Tara Sivec - Shame on Him

“I thought maybe my secretary had made a mistake. When she told me Lorelei Warner was requesting a meeting as a private investigator, I nearly died laughing. So it’s true you’ve given up your legal career for something frivolous? What is it you do exactly? Take down hardened criminals?”

Miles laughs at me mockingly and it makes my blood boil.

“Actually, yes, that’s exactly what she does. If you don’t mind, we’re investigating the death of Richard Covington. We know the two of you worked together, so we’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

Miles perches casually on the edge of his desk.

“Really? So the rumors are true. Lorelei Warner has kissed her stellar legal career good-bye to follow a lifelong dream of . . . what? Pretending she’s a hard-ass among the dregs of society?” Miles says with a laugh. “Your parents must be having a field day.”

Telling my parents off gave me such a high of satisfaction that I’m still floating on that. I would have no problem punching Miles in his smug face.

“Speaking of parents, how is your father doing? Is he going to be up for parole anytime soon?”

I know I shouldn’t stoop to his level, but I can’t help myself. Three years ago Miles’s father, then president of Indiana State Bank, was convicted of embezzlement. Miles has had a hard time clearing the family name and working his way back up the social ladder. I know my point hits home when I see the smile vanish from his face. In its place is barely concealed fury. Good. That’s exactly what I want. A man fueled by anger is more likely to slip up.

“Ask your questions. I have work to do,” Miles informs me through clenched teeth.

“How many years did you work with Richard Covington?” Dallas asks.

Miles tears his angry gaze from mine and looks over at Dallas. “I was part of his legal team for fifteen years—attorney-client privilege,” Miles tells him, folding his arms in front of him.

It seems as though Miles is forgetting our mutual industry.

“Obviously we’re not asking you to divulge any of Mr. Covington’s legal confidences. But as I’m sure you are aware, the death of a client negates any previous attorney-client privilege if such information is necessary in solving a crime.”

Miles glances over at me and sighs. “What exactly would you like to know?”

“We’re just wondering if Mr. Covington mentioned anything to you about enemies. Maybe someone in the business world who had a grudge against him, or possibly a blackmail scheme gone wrong.”

Dallas coughs into his hand and I know that’s his warning to stop. I know I shouldn’t have brought up that exact suggestion, but I couldn’t help it. I don’t like the way Miles is sitting here acting like he’s better than everyone. He’s the type of person who naturally assumes he’s smarter than the average person and can get away with anything he wants.

Miles narrows his eyes at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s wondering what I know.

“Richard made a lot of enemies over the years, naturally. A man with that kind of wealth doesn’t go through life without pissing a few people off,” Miles explains.

“Is there anyone that stands out to you, someone who threatened him or maybe made him uncomfortable?” Dallas asks.

Miles laughs and shakes his head. “Everyone made Richard uncomfortable. Over the years, he became suspicious of a lot of people. Everyone was out to get his money, everyone was jealous of him, everyone wanted to do him harm. It was a never-ending cycle with Richard.”

“Did you have any problems with him?” I question.

Miles glares at me again. “I worked for him for fifteen years. Of course we had our problems. But I’m a professional. I make sure to keep any personal feelings I have separate from business.”

Right. Until you decide you aren’t making enough money and try to blackmail your largest client.

“Yes, well, sometimes it’s hard to separate the two. Especially if you feel like you’re underappreciated. From what I hear, Mr. Covington was very stingy with his money. Did you ever feel like you weren’t being compensated enough for your troubles?”

Miles stands up from his desk and advances on me. “What exactly are you trying to suggest, Lorelei?”

He’s standing a few inches from me and I watch as his nostrils flare. Instead of arguing his innocence, he immediately took offense to my line of questioning.

“She’s not suggesting anything. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of things,” Dallas says calmly.

Miles continues to stare at me and doesn’t move away.

He’s trying to intimidate me by standing so close, but it won’t work. I’m not backing down. “It must be really hard to work for someone with that kind of money. Someone who throws it away on charities and a new wife when you’ve stuck by him and gotten him out of some pretty precarious situations for so many years. It’s almost like a slap in the face. I’m sure you feel like you deserve more for all of your trouble.”

Silence fills the room for a few minutes, and then Miles composes himself with a step back. “I think we’re done here.”

He walks around his desk and begins shuffling papers. “Lorelei, the South Bend police department must be thrilled that you’re working with them to solve this case. I’ll be sure to tell Chief Goodson what an asset you are to their team when I meet with him this weekend for drinks. And Mr. Osborne, how wonderful of you to agree to work together with Lorelei in solving this case. Your superiors really should be made aware of the good work you’re doing.”

Dallas wraps his hand around my arm and begins pulling me back out of the office as Miles sits down at his desk and picks up his phone.

“If you think of anything that might be pertinent to this case, please give me a call,” Dallas tells him as we head out the door.

“I’ll be sure to,” Miles says with a sickeningly sweet smile as he begins dialing his phone.

Dallas and I get on the elevator and ride down to the first floor in silence. We walk quickly to our cars parked side by side in the parking garage.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have pushed him so far. I made a mistake and now he’s going to talk to the chief and we’re both going to be screwed,” I complain.

Dallas takes the keys from my hand and presses the unlock button before opening my door for me. “You didn’t screw anything up. He was egging you on and you retaliated. I would have done the same thing.”

I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t. You would have never slipped up like that in the first place by bringing up those stupid e-mails. I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“I was two seconds away from punching that cocky bastard in the face. Believe me when I tell you I would have done the same thing. He realizes we know something and we’re suspicious of him. That’s why he pulled out the police card. He assumes he scared us and we’re going to walk away.”

Leaning against the doorframe of my car, I stare up at him. “Is it wrong that I really hope he killed Richard and Andrew so he can spend life in prison?”

Dallas laughs. “I’m right there with you. There’s just something about him that I don’t like. He’s too sure of himself. It’s like he didn’t even feel the need to justify that he didn’t do it because anyone would be a fool to accuse him.”

He rests his hands on the hood of the car, caging me in. “Can I just say, watching you hand him his ass on a plate was so fucking hot.”

I stare up at him, my heart beating so fast I’m sure he can hear it. This morning I hated him and couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways I wanted him dead. Now that I’ve kissed him, all I can think about are his lips.

He starts to lean toward me and I feel butterflies in my stomach, my excitement at getting to kiss him again at an all-time high.

The sound of a car door slamming from another part of the garage cuts through the silence. Dallas shakes his head and moves away from me, the moment gone. “I better go. It’s getting late and I need to make some notes on Miles.”

Trying to hide my disappointment, I quickly look away from him. “I have to go too. I have an early court case in the morning.”

Why do things feel awkward now? Maybe we’re better off hating each other.

“I’ll swing by your office later in the afternoon and we can go over our notes,” Dallas tells me as I toss my purse inside the car.

“Are you sure you still want to work with me? If Miles goes through with his threat, you could get fired.”

Dallas shakes his head in disagreement. “He’s not going to do anything. He’s guilty of something and he knows it. Even if he didn’t kill Richard, he still tried to blackmail him. We both know he’d be disbarred if that ever got out. I’ll meet you tomorrow and we’ll go over everything and see what we missed. You’re not getting out of working with me that easily.”

He closes my door once I’m inside and I watch him walk over to his own vehicle. I still don’t trust that Miles won’t go right to the police and tell them what Dallas and I are doing, but for now, I’m going to trust Dallas and just hope I didn’t mess up both of our careers.

True to his word, Dallas showed up at the office the following evening. I had almost given up hope after not hearing from him all day and was calling myself all kinds of a fool for borrowing another one of Paige’s outfits. The short black-and-white plaid skirt and long-sleeved black sweater that hangs off of one shoulder reminds me a little bit of a Catholic-school uniform. According to Paige, that’s the point. She seemed to think Dallas wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but kissing me when he saw me wearing this. Obviously she was wrong. We’ve been sitting here for two hours poring over our notes and he’s barely looked at me.