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scanned my emails, then just as punishment I logged into eBay just to look at the Coach purse I’d lost the night before because of my mother. It ended up selling for less than a hundred dollars. “Damn,” I sighed.
    I refilled my cup, grabbed a pen and a legal pad then headed for the fourth floor. The executive floor was quite different from all the others. It was designed like a wagon wheel with the executive secretary stationed in the center. I knew her name was Lucy but that was about it. She wasn’t exactly the friendly type.
    “I’m here to see Mr. Caprelli,” I explained.
    She buzzed his line, then said, “Go on in.”
    I thanked her and that seemed to confuse her a little.
    Unfortunately, I’d forgotten a sweater and my bare arms were cold. I reached Tony’s office. He was reading a file so I tapped gently on the door.
    He looked up and offered me a smile. He was a stunning man. Dark hair, eyes the color of imported chocolates set against olive skin. Though I was committed to figuring out the Liam and me thing, I wasn’t immune to Tony’s good looks. I had a pulse after all.
    I took a seat across from his cluttered mahogany desk and set my cup down. “Good morning.”
    “Morning,” he returned as he rifled through the files on his desk. He selected one and reached out to give it to me. “Travis Johnson.”
    “The thirteen-year-old who allegedly killed his foster father?” It was a case that would go on for months if not years.
    Tony nodded. Behind him on the credenza was a framed photograph of his daughter, Isabelle – Izzy. She was a pretty girl and I enjoyed spending time with her. I had become her unofficial fashion consultant and eBay mentor.
    “I got his school records,” Tony said. “A straight A student.”
    I looked at the report cards. “This helps, right?”
    Tony shrugged. “Maybe. Even though now he claims he’s not guilty, I can’t rule out a battered child defense. I don’t want the jury thinking that things at home couldn’t be bad if his grades were good.”
    “So what do you want me to do?” I asked.
    “Go talk to his neighbors. The cops did a cursory canvass but I’d like to know more.”
    “Wouldn’t they rather talk to you?”
    Tony shook his head. “You’re less threatening and a woman. Most people don’t slam doors in a woman’s face. Take a tape recorder with you. Just in case.”
    “When do you want me to go?”
    “Now is good. Unless you have something else you need to finish first.”
    “Now is fine.”
    “The addresses are in the file. Let me know when you get back.”
    I took the file and went back toward the executive sentry. My friend Becky Jameson was handing her something.
    “Hey,” she greeted with a smile.
    As always, Becky looked fabulous in a coral colored shift dress and nude pumps. She paired some chunky turquoise jewelry and big hoop earrings with her outfit. She was currently in a phase, dying her dark brown hair auburn. Today her hair was in a messy up do, probably because she was normally at the office before seven.
    Becky and I went to Emory together. We were both criminal justice majors with an eye toward law school. Though I’d taken my LSATS, in the end I decided three more years of education was not for me. Becky stuck it out and she was now an associate with the firm, working under the direct supervision of Estrogenless Ellen Lieberman, partner and contracts experts.
    Contracts put me in a coma.
    “Got a minute?” I asked.
    She tilted her head down one of the other spokes of the wheel.
    I followed Becky into her office. It was a little larger than mine, and completely beige. Diplomas and other accolades hung on the walls and her teak desk dominated the space. It smelled like green apples, thanks to a candle on a warmer set on top on one of three file cabinets behind the desk.
    “What’s up?” she asked as she took her seat.
    I closed the door, then told her all about the past twenty-four hours.
    She absently twirled the