Lethal Justice. Fern Michaels

far ahead of him, he could never catch up. Ted had a certain amount of ethics; Maggie hadn’t. I should talk, Jack reminded himself, aware that his own ethics left a lot to be desired.

      The spring breeze whipped him from behind, literally pushing him along as he walked the five long blocks to the Rusty Nail.

      The moment Jack opened the door to the restaurant, he got an immediate headache from the noise and the crowd. He looked around for Maggie. He spotted her in the back in a booth. Her lips were moving but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He fought his way to the booth, stopping here and there to clap one or two of his friends or colleagues on the back. He felt like he’d just done forty yards on the football field when he slid into the booth. “How’s it going, Maggie? What’s up?”

      “I took the liberty of ordering for you as I didn’t know how much time you’d have even though court is dark today. Tuna melt and a salad, and iced tea. It should be here any second now. How are you, Jack?”

      “I asked you first.”

      “Fine. Guess you’re fine because you look fine. I know I look fine, too. Guess we should cut to the chase here. I want you to introduce me to those ladies out there at Pinewood. I want to join up.”

      Whatever he was expecting, this sure as hell wasn’t it. All Jack could do was stare at the reporter. “Are you crazy?”

      “Yeah, crazy like a fox. Listen, I know it was you at the cemetery that night those women went after Rosemary Hershey. I know you let them get away. I know you were the one who shot Ted and me with the Taser. Ask me how I know all this, Jack.”

      “What the hell are you talking about, Maggie?”

      Maggie wiggled her eyebrows and then rolled her eyes as their food arrived. She watched as Jack picked up half of the sandwich and took a bite.

      “Well, I guess I can’t say I blame you for not answering. It was your cologne. I have a keen sense of smell. You’re the only one I know who wears Gray Flannel cologne. Keep eating, Jack. I can do two things at one time.” To prove her point, Maggie dug around in a large leather bag and pulled out a small recorder. She pressed the play button before she picked up her own sandwich.

      Jack continued to chew, his heart racing as he heard a voice—his voice—ordering the women to leave. The rain interfered with the true sound but if anyone wanted to pay for a voice analysis there would be no doubt it was his voice. Then he heard himself say, “Charles sent me.” How the hell was he going to get out of this with his skin intact? “Interesting. The voice isn’t clear. Is that rain or what? What makes you think that’s my voice on there? Sure as hell doesn’t sound like me to me.” Jack guffawed at his wit.

      Maggie bit down on a pickle sphere. “I guess you can see I’m not laughing here.”

      “Everyone knows you don’t have a sense of humor, Maggie. By the way, where did you get that thing?” Jack tried to work up a proper amount of outrage for his next comment. “You’re trying to set me up, aren’t you, Maggie? Jesus, is there nothing you reporters won’t do to get a story?”

      Maggie crunched on the pickle, her gaze boring into Jack. “Your outrage is duly noted. I always travel with backup. Ted had one of these, too, that night,” she said pointing to the mini recorder. “Something happened to his, though. Either he forgot to put a tape in it or he lost it. In this business you need to stay on your toes. As you know, I am always on my toes.”

      Jack gulped at his iced tea. The damn tuna sandwich was sticking in his throat. It was his turn to speak. “I wasn’t near the cemetery that night. I have an alibi, Maggie. I sure as hell hope you aren’t letting yourself and your paper open for a libel suit. You might want to rethink all of this. Listen, nice as it is talking with you, I have to get back to the office. I have two tons of paperwork to get done since court is dark today. You did say you were buying, right?”

      Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s hear your alibi.”

      Jack turned and laughed. “Pursue it and you’ll find out so quick your head will spin. First rule of law, Maggie, never ask a question you don’t already know the answer to. See you. Tell Ted to call me.”

      “Screw you, Mister District Attorney. You aren’t dealing with Ted now, you’re dealing with me.” When Maggie realized Jack was already gone and couldn’t hear her, she swore under her breath.

      On the off chance Jack was telling her the truth, which she doubted, she was back at square one. If Ted didn’t trust Jack, then she sure as hell wasn’t going to trust him either.

      Maggie sat quietly even though there were other people waiting for her booth. She didn’t leave until she’d finished all the chips on Jack’s plate plus her own. She debated a second before she reached for the last half of Jack’s pickle. She finished her tea, wiped her lips, left exactly a ten percent tip and left the Rusty Nail.

      Jack headed for the underground garage where his car was parked. He whipped out his cell phone and called Nikki. He smiled when he heard her voice. “Hi. Miss you. Great day for a picnic,” he said lightly. “Listen, that’s not why I called. Just listen to me, okay? I got an email from Maggie Spritzer inviting me to lunch at the Rusty Nail. I went and you aren’t going to believe what she wanted. She said she wants to join up with you ladies at Pinewood. I did my best to play stupid but she has me on tape out at the cemetery. She damn well played the tape while she ate a tuna fish sandwich. I tried to slough it off but she wasn’t buying. There’s static and rain but a voice analysis will prove it’s my voice on that tape. I gave her the alibi bit, but … Maggie has that female streak in her that won’t allow her to give up. She said Ted had a recorder, too, but somewhere along the way he either lost the tape or it fell out. Probably with a little help from her. Like she said, she always carries backup. We have to get that tape back. I can’t do it, Nikki.

      “I don’t think Maggie is sharing with Ted. She’s working on her own. Like Ted, though, she carries everything in a backpack. She’s never without it. I hate to dump this on you but there’s nothing I can do.”

      “How’s this for off the top of my head,” Nikki said. “I call her and tell her you said she wanted to meet up with someone from Pinewood. We meet for a drink. I’ll have one of the girls waylay her and snatch the backpack and take it to my office. However, if she’s as sharp as you say she is, she might have made copies. Do you think we should do a little breaking and entering?”

      “She wouldn’t keep something like that at home. If she had a spare, I’m thinking she’d keep it at the paper. At least that’s what I would do if I were her. It’s your call, Nik. Look, I’m in the underground garage and reception isn’t the greatest down here. Call me this evening and we can beat this to death. I’m thinking Ridley’s dinner will be over by nine. I should be home by ten. Love you.”

      “Love you, too, Jack.”