Intimate Relations, Rebecca Forster [best ereader for manga .txt] 📗

no way to keep you out of the mix. They will continue to have questions, and you need to be as honest as you can."

"But not about this. Not about our business," Emi said.

"No," he said. "You are legally bound by the nondisclosure unless..."

"Unless what?" Emi asked.

"Remember, while I am not a criminal attorney I am still bound by the attorney client privilege. I will protect you to the best of my ability. But if your business dealings had anything to do with the death of this young woman, it could be argued that you have an ethical obligation to tell what you know." Mr. Thompson, crossed his arms on the desk and looked at each of them in turn. "Do you know if any of the parties involved in the nondisclosure had any reason to wish this girl harm? Did any of the parties have an opportunity to injure her?"

"No," Enver said. "There was no reason to wish her harm."

"And you did not injure her?" he asked.

"No."

"And you did not know her."

"I never spoke to her," Enver said.

He turned his eyes on Emi. She looked back at him. There was a faraway look in his wife's eyes. When she realized he was waiting for her to say something, she shook her head.

"The woman? No, I had no reason to hurt this woman," Emi said, and the lawyer kept his eyes on her a second longer than was necessary. She did not waver beneath his gaze.

"Then I believe you are fine. Call me if anything else comes up." He picked up the phone on his desk and spoke to his secretary. "Marilee, will you get Mr. and Mrs. Cuca the number for Beth Bartholomew?"

He smiled as the Cucas rose.

"Marilee will give you Ms. Bartholomew's contact information. She's an excellent criminal defense attorney. It would be good to have her on your side now. If the police want to question you further, make sure Beth is with you. I'll fill her in on your residency status and the NDA, so we're all on the same page."

The Cucas left the office and drove back to The Brewery. Mitzie saw them and she waved. Pedal saw them and called out. But Emi and Enver didn't notice or didn't want to. They went into their home, closed their door, and locked it. They had lunch, and then began to work again. When work was over, before dinner, Enver left Emi and stayed apart from her. She went to bed alone. She didn't hear him come to bed because she had been asleep for a long while. But when he stirred in his sleep, she woke. Rolling over she reached for him but changed her mind. She knew where he'd been and he wouldn't want her any more than she wanted him.

Cori and Finn stood in the living room of the house on the hill. Sam was long gone. The car on the side of the garage had been his. They had taken a quick look through the mess of papers, discarded cups, and food wrappers. Finn and Cori checked out the trunk, and had seen nothing remotely interesting. The detectives sent him on his way. They had everything they wanted from Sam: the address where he was supposed to deliver the computer, the name and email contact of the company that hired him, and his home address. If they had asked for his first born, Sam would have wrapped it up and given it over. Finn gave him a warning: he was only to tell his employer that he could not find the computer. There was to be no mention of the police or the fact that they were now in possession of the key to the house.

They had bagged the key, although Cori and Finn had no illusions that they would find anyone's prints on it but Sam's. A virtual assistant who had no curiosity about who paid him or what he was doing for a client was either really smart or a total idiot. Cori and Finn had a very short discussion about entering the premises. They believed that, when finding a man running from the property, they were justified in entering the house.  They could argue that they feared someone inside might be hurt. Cori and Finn left the door open behind them, calling out even though they knew no one else was inside. The house seemed to know that no one would be ever again.

"You know, guys like Sam kind of make you wonder how that generation is going to rule the world."

"I'm thinking they might not be able to push my wheelchair in my old age unless they can maneuver it with a joy stick."

"Track pads are the thing now," Cori said.  She wandered the living room, two small steps at a time, careful not to touch anything.

"By then all they'll have to do is think the word 'go' and that chair of mine will be off and running." Finn stopped in front of the painting that had made Sam so uncomfortable.

"If they can do that, then they can think us dead and be done with it," Cori mused. "Nice furniture. This girl had good taste."

"She was a beauty," Finn said. Cori turned to look at the painting he was admiring.

"I'm with Sam. It's freakishly realistic. Three dimensional," Cori said.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that painting talked," Finn said. He took a step closer. "Enver Cuca. Signed bottom right as it should be."

"Well, well," Cori said.

"He is good, I'll give him that."

"Does it not strike you strange, Cori?" Finn mused. "Is it not odd, that Enver Cuca painted this portrait of a woman who died in his home. Yet he says he doesn't know who she is or even that she was in his house?"

"This is Los Angeles. The whole place is frickin' weird," Cori said.

"Mr. Cuca must have spent some time with her to paint something like this. All he had to do was look at her