"A mechanical engineer. I know nothing about . . . those. Whatever I've said, whatever I've hinted, it's bullshit. It's . . ." He waved. "Grandstanding. Promotion for the cause."
Jack leaned back. "Yeah? Well, you're not going to have a cause if you go to jail."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm just saying--"
"If I'm arrested, I have an alibi. For the night that judge died and the night someone shot at the lawyer chick. I was at a club. A private club. With lots of people who can tell you, beyond any doubt, that I was there, and I was . . . busy. Very busy."
"Name?"
"I can't give you names of people--"
"The club."
Stanton hesitated. Then he gave it, saying, "You're not going to find it in the Yellow Pages. But if you search online, you'll see it's real. It's very, very exclusive. And that's where I was. If the police arrest me, I have an alibi."
Chapter Eleven
Nadia
Sheila Walling was abrasive, assertive, arrogant and angry. Add up those a's, and people started using a word that started with the next letter of the alphabet.
Yes, as I listened to her thr
ough that wall, she sounded like a world-class bitch, but in an honest way, one that was tough and forthright, and I saw nothing wrong with that.
Sheila Walling wanted a divorce. She just wanted the damn thing done and over with. Forget alimony, forget child support, forget the fact that she'd brought their family home into the marriage. She'd happily agree to an equal division of assets. The only thing she wanted? Joint custody of their two kids.
Two doctors had confirmed she'd kicked the prescription drug habit. She'd been clean for months. So I didn't see what the issue was.
That was when they mentioned Cherise Hale.
When the Wallings left the office, I followed, as if I'd just happened to be departing at the same time. Sheila got onto the elevator. Victor and his lawyer busied themselves in conversation, as if they were too busy talking to notice that the elevator had arrived. I got on with Sheila, and the doors closed behind me.
"Bodyguard, huh?" she said as the elevator began its descent.
I looked over at her.
"I have ears," she said. "If you're here to threaten me, go ahead and get it out of your system. I need to get back to work."
"Should I threaten you?" I asked.
She gave a harsh laugh and then shook her head. "No, I'm not the bitch you're looking for."
The doors opened, and we stepped off. I walked alongside Sheila as she kept talking.
"I'm no threat to Angela Kamaka," she said. "I'd never poison a dog. That's just wrong."
She rounded the corner. "I probably wouldn't kill a person, either. Not unless I had to, and certainly not over a divorce. I'll get joint custody. I'm clean, and there's no other reason to deny me."
I said nothing, just kept walking alongside her heading for the parking lot.
"I didn't kill Cherise," she said. "I know that's the real reason for the custody concern, and the only reason I'm a suspect in the rest. But I was never charged, and by point of law, they can't use 'suspicion' against me."
"True."
"Do you know why they investigated me? Because I'm a chemist, so I know how to make explosions. That's it. Oh, and because clearly if a man's young new girlfriend dies, it was the nasty old wife who did it."