“They are planning a girls’ afternoon out, with shopping and lunch and, according to Patty, more shopping.”
“That sounds like fun. I haven’t gone on a shopping spree in a long time. I guess I never lost the frugal tactics of college days.”
“Don’t get started now,” he said. “I don’t want them spoiling you.”
Christie smiled. She liked the inference in his remark. “It’s not in my nature to splurge. Too much, that is.”
“It’s all right to splurge once in a while, but I can just see my mother and sister turning you into a shopaholic.”
“I think I’m going to enjoy girls’ afternoon out, especially if it makes you uncomfortable.” She laughed. “Don’t look so serious.”
“Not another word about shopping. Mother doesn’t cook much anymore, so over her protests, I’m taking everyone out to dinner. My sister said she’d get a babysitter.”
“The children aren’t going with us? That seems unfair.”
“They go to bed early. Besides, they’ll enjoy watching videos and throwing popcorn at each other while we’re gone. You’ll get to spend time with them. Don’t forget you’re going to live with them for two days. You may be begging for peace and quiet before the weekend is over.”
“Really?”
“Nah. They’re good kids. I guarantee they’ll win your heart. And I know you will win theirs.” He leaned forward. “Just like you’ve won mine,” he said softly.
Christie was thrown off stride momentarily, and hesitated before replying. “You know what? I like you a little more each day.”
“Is like the strongest word you can think of?” He took her hand.
Much as she wanted to, she could not say the word he hinted at. Not here in a room full of people. Although the view was spectacular, the ambience awesome, it wasn’t private. When she told him that she loved him, it would be just the two of them, at just the right moment.
“Christie? Aren’t you going to answer my question?”
“You know how I feel about you.”
He smiled, evidently satisfied with her answer. Or was he?
They finished lunch and took the elevator to the upper floor. Christie took one last look at the breathtaking scene below. Maybe it would have been a proper place to admit her feelings to Cash after all. Perhaps she’d missed her chance to hear him reply that he loved her, too.
The days wore on. Cash worked long hours to fit Bobby Moreno’s case into his already-busy schedule. Christie hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. When they spoke on the phone, he would mention the progress or setbacks on Bobby’s case, and she shared her day’s accomplishments or frustrations. He always remembered to ask about Tosha. Not because he was fond of the cat, she knew, but because Tosha meant so much to her.
Monday evening, Christie and Kathleen had an early dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf. When Kathleen asked about her relationship with Cash, Christie spilled out her feelings for him. Kathleen encouraged her to be open with Cash. Maybe she was right, Christie thought.
Tuesday started as an ordinary day. Christie gave Tosha her usual morning treat, picked up the Chronicle from her doorstep, and opened it to the local section on the way to the kitchen. She poured a cup of tea and sat down with a cranberry muffin she had picked up at Noah’s the day before. By habit, she scanned the local section first, then checked her horoscope for a lighthearted moment before concentrating on the often-depressing front page.
A brief article at the bottom of the second page that most readers would have skipped caught her attention. It was an update on Cash’s arson case. Bobby Moreno had refused to take a lie-detector test and a second suspect had been apprehended. The new suspect’s previous convictions read like a crime novel.
Cash might think that Bobby Moreno was unjustly accused, due to the skeletons in his closet, but it would be difficult convincing a jury that this new suspect was squeaky clean. Christie finished breakfast and dressed. Tosha jumped onto the bed and sat, watching her. She picked the cat up and gave her a kiss. “I’m so happy you are all better, sweet Tosha.” She put the cat down and headed out the door. It would be the first time in a week that she planned on working a full day. An attorney she had often consulted with had referred a new client to her, and they had an appointment at ten.
The client owned an upscale spa in Napa and one of her employees had swindled her out of a large sum of money. She wanted Christie to verify that the signatures on certain sales orders were fraudulent. The meeting lasted until close to noon. Afterward, Christie drove to Cash’s office. They were going to have lunch together, but she knew that his idea of a workday lunch date might consist of a prepackaged sandwich from a fast-food shop. With a perfunctory hello to the receptionist, Christie walked into Cash’s office. He looked up from some notes.
“I’m going to have to cancel lunch,” he said. “I’ve got a new client, a young kid from Bobby’s old neighborhood.” He came around the desk and gave her a quick kiss.
“I read an article in the Chronicle about the case this morning. He sounds like a monster in training.”
“He does have a spotty record, but don’t believe everything you read in the paper. I had the kid outline his activities on the day of the arson.” He nodded toward a notebook. “He gave me the names of people who can verify his whereabouts. I’m deposing one of the witnesses in half an hour. If the DA can’t place him at the scene, he doesn’t have a case.”
Christie picked up the notebook and examined the irregular scrawl that filled the page. She sat down, unable to take her eyes from the writing.
“This kid isn’t in the same league with Bobby,” she warned. “He’s very disturbed, capable of outrageous, possibly violent behavior.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t know anything about him except what was fed to the press.”
“I see it right here.” She tapped the notebook.
“What do you mean?”
“His handwriting. It’s a dead giveaway. Don’t trust him, Cash. He’s trouble.”
“Give me a break, Christie.”
“I’m serious. Look at this handwriting! Here”—she pointed—“this indicates a vengeful streak. And this suggests that he’s walking a thin line between rational and irrational behavior. What’s more, the amount of pressure exerted on the pen and the heavy set of the letters indicates that your client is probably being deceitful. I’ll bet you’ll have a difficult time confirming his alibi.”
“Be real, Christie. Not too long ago you told me that your knowledge of character analysis through handwriting is limited, maybe nil. Now you’re trying to pass yourself off as an expert?”
His remark stung. She wasn’t an expert, but she knew the fundamentals. Moreno’s pal was trouble with a capital T, and it infuriated her that Cash refused to listen to her warning. “I told you that there are certain elements that I can recognize. I’m not making this up.” She waved the notebook at him, but he turned away.
“I don’t want to hear it. This kid has enough problems without anyone inventing more. You’re letting the newspaper article influence you. Stick to determining the authenticity of documents and leave psychoanalysis to psychiatrists.”
Anger and frustration heated her face. He was putting her down and discarding her advice. Was he turning a deaf ear because he was intent on winning the case no matter what? Was that what he called justice? Her hands balled into fists. She struggled to remain calm, knowing that it would work against her if she blew up.