Devil's Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

best she could, ignoring the knowing grins of her classmates. Professor Walensky was in one of his “cannibals roasting the missionary” moods, and she knew she had just jumped into the pot. Everyone else in the room wore a better-you-than-me look, and a dead silence fell as she drew to a conclusion.
    “So, Miss Patria,” Professor Walensky said, “what, in your opinion, was the main problem with this will?”
    “The lawyer who drew it up violated the rule against perpetuities, and so the man’s wife inherited everything, even though he had tried to leave his estate to his son and his niece.”
    Walensky nodded slowly, and then went on to tear apart everything she’d said, line by line, questioning each conclusion she’d drawn from the facts. Angela waited; this was typical. She knew that she was right, but Walensky had a way of making everything you’d said sound so outrageous that he convinced you the most reasonably thought out premise was a bunch of garbage by the time he finished.
    “And so,” Walensky concluded, “don’t you think, Miss Patria, that the client in this case should have made a different will?”
    “No.”
    Walensky’s eyebrows shot up into his white hair. “No?”
    “I think he should have hired a different lawyer. The attorney screwed it up; there was nothing wrong with the testator’s idea.”
    “And how do you propose to avoid making such a mistake yourself when you are in practice?” Walensky baited her.
    Angela’s patience snapped. This old curmudgeon had had her on the rack for ten minutes now, Devlin was listening to every word, and her classmates were breathing prayers of thanksgiving that this godawful case had not fallen to them.
    “By doing nothing but divorces,” Angela fired back, and waited for the bomb to fall.
    Walensky’s face went blank with surprise, and the group held its collective breath. Then he started to laugh, and, relieved, the class joined in with him.
    “Touché, Miss Patria, touché,” Walensky said. “I suppose I have tormented you long enough today. If you will give your attention to the blackboard, ladies and gentlemen, I will demonstrate how to avoid the pitfalls of the rule in a case such as this.”
    Angela waited until Walensky was writing and then risked a glance at Devlin.
    He was smiling. Slowly, carefully, he formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger, and then went back to his book.
    * * * *
    Angela and Devlin returned to the brownstone in late afternoon to find Josie making dinner in the kitchen. Angela felt that the day had not been a triumph; she had introduced Devlin to her friends as a visiting “cousin,” a ploy that had met with a conspicuous lack of success. He looked like nobody’s cousin, and nobody believed it. Angela told the truth to only one person, her friend Holly, who knew all about the threats on Angela’s life and the plan to hire a bodyguard. Holly had eyed Devlin warily, her gaze traveling to the strap of the shoulder holster just visible beneath his jacket and then back to Angela’s face.
    “Aren’t you afraid of him?” Holly had whispered when Devlin was out of earshot, walking a few paces behind them.
    “Why? Do you think I should be?”
    “I don’t know. He looks . . . mean.”
    Angela sighed. “Holly, I don’t care if he looks like Vlad the Impaler as long as he keeps me from getting killed.”
    Holly, who was very happily married, glanced over her shoulder. “He’s kind of attractive though, isn’t he, if you like the type.”
    “What type?”
    “Rough and ready, you know what I’m getting at. Great body, too.”
    Angela had to laugh. “I thought you just said I should be afraid of him.”
    “Exactly,” Holly replied with satisfaction, shooting her a triumphant glance.
    Angela let it pass, understanding perfectly.
    The conversation had done nothing to improve her spirits, and now she was tired from a long day as well.
    Josie greeted Angela with a hug, and then surveyed her