Page 134 of A Dead End Wedding

She put the bottle on the table between us. "As I said on the phone, in the spirit of helping your client, I'd be delighted to help with your client's case. Mr. Seaver, was it? We'll let you do many of the secondary depositions in the case and we'll be content with a seventy-five percent split."

That made more sense than her first offer. "So Mr.Deaveris my client, but you'll help with all the heavy lifting, and I'll take twenty-five percent of the fee?"

She shook her head. "No, no. You'll take seventy-five, since you'll be doing the deps. Seriously, December, we're not trying to steal your client. We just want to help you out."

My suspicious nature zoomed into overdrive. "Sarah, I love that everybody in this town is trying to 'help me out' so much. It warms the cockles of my heart, whatever the heck cockles are. But it also makes my naturally cynical little self wonder why."

She rubbed her temples, as if I were giving her a big headache with my questions. Gee, I hoped so.

"Here's the deal. We both know you have no idea what you're doing. I don't want my insulin cases screwed up because some pissant little newbie sets bad precedent. I have every other reported case signed as clients, and we're going to move to consolidate in state court. Can't you put your own stupid pride and arrogance aside long enough to see what's best for your client?"

I hate to admit it, but I was nearly speechless. "You – I – wow. You are amazing. Despite that gracious and heartwarming speech, I think I'll keep my client. Let's go back to the marina now, please."

She leaned forward. "I heard you were even harassing my ad production company over some clerical error on an invoice. Consider this a friendly warning. Stay out of things that are none of your business."

I stood up. "I get that a lot lately. You haven't been making any threatening phone calls, have you? And, by the way, a man from your ad company died yesterday. He was murdered. That sounds like somebody else is doing some harassing."

She jumped out of her chair and stomped across the deck, only stopping when she was right up in my face. "Right. I heard about your drug cartel problems. And, trust me, if I threaten you, you'll know it. For example, we're pretty far out here. Did you notice?"

I glanced out at the water, almost involuntarily.

She lowered her voice. "If a person fell overboard this far out at sea, the body would probably never be found, don't you think?"

I shoved past her and tried not to let on that she was creeping me out with her lame B-movie threats. "Hilarious. Now take me back to the dock."

Before she could say anything else, Emily and the captain arrived and effectively ended the conversation. Sarah transformed again into a smiley, nice person and asked Karl to take us in, then she and Emily chatted on the return trip. I spent the time staring at the water, clutching the railing so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Not that I believed for an instant that Sarah would push me overboard.

It's just that I didn't exactly know how to swim.

31

On the drive home, I felt like I'd been dropped down into the rabbit hole. There was no way that a successful, powerful lawyer like Sarah Greenberg had really threatened me like a cheap goon. Maybe my paranoia was driving me nuts.

"Although, who wouldn't be paranoid considering the week I've had?" I muttered.

Emily twisted in her seat and folded her arms. "You think you're imagining things?"

I tried to shake off the self-doubt. "No, I don't, really. There are things going on underneath the surface. It was unfair of me to expect you to pick up on?—"

Emily cut me off. "The yacht is a Hatteras. It sleeps six in three staterooms. The master is aft with queen-size bed and private head and shower. The master stateroom also has a built-in TV and VCR. There are two guest staterooms. One is aft, with upper and lower bunks, the lower being oversize, plus it has a closet. The private head and shower are across the companionway. The second stateroom is forward with two bunks, closet, private head and shower, washer and dryer."

She stopped to suck in a breath. "As you saw, the interior also features eggshell stain-resistant Berber carpet throughout, with in-shore protection runners. The main salon has a full-size couch, two chairs, and a helm seat. It's running her six grand a month for the boat payment. Another five for Karl's salary. That doesn't include routine maintenance and upkeep, which is fairly steep, or salaries for the crew she needs whenever she goes more than an hour out from the marina. Don't even ask about how much it costs to fill that gas tank. Plus, things are not all that stable for her, financially, across the board."

"What—"

"I'm not done. She and Karl had a hot and heavy thing going, but she dumped him recently for some twenty-something boy toy. Captain Karl isn't happy about it; he was way more than casual about her." She shuddered. "Although I can't imagine why. That woman gives me the creeps. She looks like she'd stab you in the heart just as easily as she would shake your hand."

I stopped at a red light and turned to stare at her. "You got all that from a quick tour of the boat with Captain Steroid? Do you have a photographic memory or what?"

She laughed and gave me a very smug look. "Didn't think I had it in me, did you? Oh, and whatever you and she were talking about, I'd be very wary of trusting. She had massive tells for deceit, bluffing, and outright lying all over her."

"Now the question is whether she bluffed about the cases or about throwing me overboard to sing with the fishes."

"I think that'sswimwith the fishes."

"Whatever."

We dissected Sarah's actions and comments all the way back home, but other than a general WARNING, DANGER, DANGER feeling, we didn't know what she was up to. I couldn't find any motive for her wanting Charlie's case so badly that she wouldgive up seventy-five percent of the fee. The usual motive – money – didn't work if I were getting the lion's share of it.

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