Kill All the Lawyers Read Online Free PDF Page A

based on cooperation between like-minded individuals with a common goal. So why shouldn't love be similarly logical? Why shouldn't marriage be a synergistic partnership of two people with similar interests and tastes? That calculated reasoning had led her into the arms of Bruce Bigby, real estate developer, avocado grower, Kiwanis Man of the Year. An All-American, all-around good guy. She believed their mutual interests—opera, Impressionist art, and summers on Cape Cod—represented a balanced life relatively free of stress. But once engaged to Bruce, she discovered that life was devoid of excitement and fun and . . .
    Electricity.
    Which is what she found with Steve. Perhaps too much electricity. Is that possible? She supposed it was. Electrocution, for example.
    What was it about Steve, anyway? He had dark hair a little too long and a little too messy. He tanned easily and looked great in shorts with his strong runner's legs. Then there were his eyes, a liquid brown, and his half smile, flashing with mischief.
    "You're what my mother would call Mediterranean sexy," she once told him.
    "You mean a handsome Hebe?"
    "There's just something about your whole look. Those full lips. That aquiline nose. Like a Roman emperor."
    "You sure you don't mean a kosher butcher?"
    Now, waiting for him, she wondered if moving in together was a good idea. And she was the one who had suggested it.
    She had taken a roundabout route, starting with Bobby, worried about his reaction. They had a great relationship. Still, being the girlfriend who slept over was different than being the full-time surrogate mom. A few weeks ago, she asked Bobby whether he was okay with her moving in. Bobby thought for a second, then grinned and high-fived her.
    "All of us racking together? Cool."
    Steve signed on, too, without any apparent reluctance. But she could tell he hadn't given it much thought. Maybe she should have waited for Sports Center to be over before bringing it up.
    "Good idea," he had said, during the NFL highlights. "We'll save money, cut down on driving time."
    Mr. Romance.
    Then came the housing dilemma. Steve's bungalow on Kumquat Avenue was too small. Ditto, her condo. So today, Victoria had rushed from the downtown courthouse to the high-rise canyon of Brickell Avenue to check out this three-bedroom, three-bath beauty.
    She liked it and hoped Steve would, too. Problem was, he wanted a house with a yard; she wanted an apartment with a balcony.
    He says po-tay-to, and I say po-tah-to.
    She'd been irritated with Steve at breakfast when he sidestepped her questions about Kreeger. On the drive to her hearing, she listened carefully to Dr. Bill's tirade, trying to determine if it was just a shtick or part of something deeper and more menacing. Kreeger, after all, had been charged with murder and convicted of manslaughter.
    Underneath the wisecracks, Kreeger sounded deadly serious. Aggrieved and angry. Just what was Steve hiding from her?
    So typical of him. It was, she decided, Irritating Habit Number 98. Always thinking he could shield her from unpleasantness. Protecting the little woman, as if that were his job. Not understanding that she could handle anything he could.
    I'm a trial lawyer. I can stare murderers in the eye and never blink.
    "So where's the bad boy, Tori?" Jacqueline Tuttle walked onto the apartment balcony, the curtains trailing behind her in the breeze. "If he's not here soon, you won't have time to try out the bed."
    "Or the inclination," Victoria said.
    Jackie Tuttle, real estate broker, was Victoria's best girlfriend. A tall, buxom bachelorette with a curly mane of dyed red hair and a penchant for Spicy Nude lipstick, she drove a Mercedes convertible and worked the king-of-the-jungle market, high-rise condos where she hoped to find a wealthy, single man just dying to marry a tennis-playing, water-skiing party gal. Unlike Victoria, Jackie was uninhibited, with a loud laugh and a bawdy sense of humor.
    There didn't seem to be a