The Law of Attraction (14 page)

Alisha didn't have time to worry about that. She needed to concern herself with the case and spend her lunch hour making certain that the jury bought the whole “man-with-a-cause” posture. She had her work cut out for her, both in regard to the defense and the sudden urge to invite Daniel into the stairwell.

 

Daniel wasn't buying any of that cause crap. Unfortunately the jury looked as if they had bought it hook, line and sinker.
Hook, line and sinker.
That reminded him of fishing, and fishing reminded him of Alisha. Not that he needed any reminders. She'd planted more than a few memories that he couldn't shake, especially during her opening arguments. He wondered if anyone else had noticed how her voice had lowered when she'd talked about bodies. Maybe he'd just imagined she'd been talking to him. Hell, she'd been trying to distract him, and she'd done a damn good job of it. No coincidence that she'd worn that brown outfit or that she'd left her hair down to fall around her shoulders. It swayed every time she moved.
She'd
swayed every time she moved.

Even after making love to her several times, he hadn't even begun to get her out of his system. She was so deeply ingrained in his psyche that not more than five minutes went by when he wasn't thinking about her. Thinking about how she'd felt, how she'd tasted, how she'd kept his undivided attention when they'd talked for hours. She was driving him crazy.

But he wasn't so far gone that he didn't realize something was amiss in his information on the defendant. Tossing aside his half-eaten burger on his desk, he picked up the file and thumbed through it again. No current address of record because he'd supposedly been staying with a friend, and that so-called friend hadn't been located, according to Krauss. Massey's last place of employment was some pizza place. Too many blanks to fill in and not enough time to do it himself. He should have been more involved in the prep for this case instead of following Vera's advice and simply walking into a courtroom virtually unprepared and without the necessary information. But he did have someone who could help.

He picked up the phone and punched the number that rang Sara Utley, a fifty-something paralegal who'd come to his rescue more than once. “I need a favor, Sara.”

“Sure. Something to do with the Jamison case?”

“No. The Massey case.”

“You mean that naked hunk?”

A huge hunk of trouble, as far as Daniel was concerned. “I need you to see what you can find out about him.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Anything we can use against him.”

“I'm sure the police have already done a thorough check and come up empty, at least in terms of priors.”

“I'm thinking more along the lines of personal relationships. People who might know the real Les Massey. See if you can find something questionable he did in his past.”

Sara chuckled. “Like maybe he threw a paper route in the buff?”

That was a possibility. “Yeah. His background info is in the file. I'll leave it on my desk when I go back into court. And I'd appreciate it if you can put a rush on it. Time's running out on this one.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Fortune. I'll get back to you when I can. It might be this evening, though.”

“I'll be here.”

Depending on his witnesses this afternoon—and Alisha Hart's skills—he could very well be there all night.

 

So far, so good. The first few state's witnesses basically put Les on the scene at the alleged crimes. Alisha kept her cross-examination brief, asking the same questions about Les's dress, his behavior, his effect on the crowd. The man from the zoo offered very little other than Mr. Massey had a pretty good Tarzan yell. And the woman who'd caught Les's Davy Crockett impression had commented she would always remember the Alamo. But now the first of the two most important witnesses for the prosecution was coming up.

“The state calls Misty Ramsey.”

“Sounds like the name of a stripper,” Joe muttered.

Alisha questioned whether her clerk was right on target. The young woman had tremendously teased platinum hair and large breasts that looked as if they wanted to escape from the tight, low-cut teal sweater. She had on a micromini the color of mud and the most hideous pair of platform shoes the likes of which Alisha hadn't seen since her mother had dragged her to Saturday garage sales years ago. If the fashion police were on the premises, Misty deserved a major citation.

When Daniel approached the stand and smiled, the woman looked as if she might dissolve right into the chair. “Please state your full name and residence for the record,” he instructed.

She sat up straight, thrusting her boobs forward. “My name is Misty Rose Ramsey and I live in San Marcos.”

“Thank you, Ms. Ramsey,” Daniel said. “Now could you tell us your whereabouts on the night of December twenty-third?”

“I was taking a walk on the river. Window-shopping, that sort of thing.”

“And on that night did you see the defendant, Lester Massey?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“What exactly was he doing?”

“He was standing in the middle of a banquet table on a river taxi. It was some sort of dinner cruise, I think.”

Daniel stuck his hands in his pockets and slowly paced. “What was he wearing?”

She grinned. “A short jacket with lots of sequins. It was very pretty. And he had this big red sash wrapped around his waist.”

“Anything else?”

“A sombrero.”

“No pants?”

“No, sir. You could see every inch of his legs. He has nice legs.”

A loud whoop echoed through the chamber, causing the judge to bang his gavel, startling Alisha. “If I hear that again, I'm clearin' this courtroom. Go ahead, Counselor.”

Daniel walked back to the table, picked up a pointer and returned to the stand. He gestured at an easel holding an enlarged aerial view of the river that he'd introduced into evidence earlier. “Now this is approximately where the taxi was that night. Where were you standing?”

She took the pointer he offered. “Right there,” she said, indicating the far side of the narrow canal next to the bridge.

“And Mr. Massey was facing you?”

“Not at first. He had his back to me. But then he was dancing around and he turned. That's when I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“His package.”

Was it in decorative paper? Alisha wanted to shout out but quelled the urge.

“Could you be more specific?” Daniel asked.

Misty didn't blush and her gaze didn't falter. “You know, his thing. His genitals.”

“Are you absolutely certain that's what you saw?”

She nodded like a bobble-head dog on the dash of a souped-up Chevy. “Oh, yes. It was real big.”

More giggles from the peanut factory and grumbles from the puritans.

Daniel glanced at Alisha, challenge in his eyes. “Your witness.”

Alisha pushed back from the table and took Daniel's place in front of the stand. “Ms. Ramsey, can you estimate exactly how far away from Mr. Massey you were that night?”

The young woman paused for a moment and pursed her peony-painted lips. “I'm not good at math.”

What a shocker. “Think about a football field. Were you that far away?”

“No. Like maybe half of that.”

“What time was it?”

“About nine at night.”

“Did you have any binoculars?”

Misty rolled her clumpy mascara-laden eyes. “Uh, no.”

“Do you have superpowers, like maybe extreme night vision?”

“Objection,” Daniel called out, rising from his seat.

Without a pause the judge said, “Sustained.”

Alisha forced a smile. “I have one more question, Ms. Ramsey. Since you say that Mr. Massey's genitals were so noticeable, did you happen to see any identifying marks such as a tattoo or birthmark?”

“Actually I do think I saw something like that. Maybe a tattoo, the kind men usually have around their upper arms. Sort of like vines.”

She glanced at Daniel to find a look of surprise in his expression over the revelation. If Alisha discovered that was accurate, she would give Les another tattoo he would never forget, using a bobby pin and a permanent marker. Of course, if it wasn't true, that could shoot holes in Misty's testimony and eyewitness account. Having him drop his drawers for
verification wouldn't be a banner idea, but she suspected she knew exactly what Misty had seen and she could introduce that during Les's testimony tomorrow. “No further questions.”

“Okay, people,” Slagle began, “we're going to take a fifteen-minute break before we continue.”

Alisha stood and faced Joe. “I'll be back in a few. If Les needs to go to the boys' room, let the guards know. And be sure to escort him, then let me know if you see any tattoos.”

Joe groaned. “Isn't that going above and beyond the call of duty?”

She gave him a wink as she backed away. “Just part of the job.” When she turned, she almost ran headlong into Daniel. When she moved, he moved, as if they were engaged in some bizarre dance. Finally he stepped to one side and said, “Sorry.”

“My fault.” She hurried off, the familiar scent of his cologne following her all the way to the rest room. When she found a line of women streaming into the hall, she decided she could hold it, a talent she'd honed during childhood when her dad was inclined to drive nonstop on vacations. She'd been blessed with a boulder-sized bladder, her mother had said, and right now she was grateful. She was also a bit hungry since she'd only had a few peanut butter crackers for lunch.

On that thought Alisha sought out the small break room that housed vending machines and coffee. Although coffee sounded good, she certainly didn't need the caffeine. Just being close to Daniel, even if only momentarily, had her sufficiently wired. She nixed the soda machine, too, and opted for the snacks. Too many choices, she decided as she dug through her jacket pocket for spare change. Whatever she chose, it would have to be something that didn't make her thirsty.

After staring at the machine for several moments, she sensed someone coming up behind her and realized she needed to decide. Gum would work. Fruity gum. Of course, she would have to remember to chuck it before the trial resumed since she had a nasty habit of popping it. Bad molars,
her mother had said. What a nice addition to her résumé should she decide to join an Internet singles' site.

She likes classical music and luxury cars, and she's been blessed with bad molars and a bladder the size of a blimp….

She was definitely losing it, Alisha decided as she slid the appropriate amount of coins into the slot. Before she could pull the black handle, her hand froze when she heard, “Are you as hungry as I am?”

Oh, God, this was all she needed. A former lover with a fixation on himself and an overblown opinion of his finesse.

She yanked the handle, releasing her frustration and the pack of gum. She didn't want to see Troy Moreau, but she had no choice but to face the sorry music.

“What are you doing here, Troy?”

He forked a hand through his golden hair and favored her with a sleazy smile. “Well, I'm an attorney and this is a courthouse, so I thought I'd stay over and watch a little of the afternoon's proceedings. You did a fairly good job this morning.”

That was a high compliment coming from him. “You were there?”

“Yeah, standing at the back.”

Alisha thanked her lousy stars she hadn't seen him. He'd always delighted in critiquing her, and she wouldn't be surprised if he tried it now. “I have to get back now.”

“Let me give you some advice first.”

How well she could read him, and she didn't like the subtext one bit. She tore open the package and popped a piece of gum into her mouth. “I don't want or need your advice.”

“It's just a small thing. Watch your hands. You tend to wring them. Makes you look nervous.”

Alisha wanted to take his tie into her hands and wring it around his neck. “I truly don't care what you think anymore.”

She pushed past him, but before she could reach the door he said, “About the White case…”

Reluctantly she faced him again. “What about it?”

“I'm going to be handling it.”

A few moments passed before she recovered her voice. “Why are you handling it when it doesn't involve criminal charges against your well-heeled cronies?”

He took a few steps toward her. “I requested the case after I heard you were handling it. Just thought I'd take a shot at something new, like a civil trial. You can never have too much experience.”

No, she thought, but he did have way too much arrogance. “How did you know I was representing Mrs. White?”

“We called and made her an offer, and she said she'd hired you.”

“Yes, she has.”

“It's a good offer. We're willing to go fifty grand.”

Alisha couldn't believe his gall. “Fifty grand? That won't even cover medical expenses already incurred.”

“That's the best I can do.”

“And you can stick that offer—” Alisha stopped, refusing to stoop to his level. “We'll talk about it later. Call and make an appointment.”

He dropped down into a chair and assumed his usual insolent posture. “You know, we could have dinner one night. Talk about business. Or pleasure. Whatever you prefer.”

She preferred the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “No thanks.”

When she started to leave again, he said, “You're way out of your league with this one, Alisha. You can't handle Fortune.”

If he only knew she'd already handled him. Straightening her shoulders, Alisha turned and walked to the table, braced her hands on the edge and leaned toward him. “And you're out of your mind if you think for one minute I want to go anywhere near you again.” She lifted her gaze to his scalp and frowned. “Troy, I believe you're getting a little thin on top. Maybe you should try one of those new hair-growing products.”