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behalf. If he wants me to check this out then he'll have to hire me. I'm sorry.''
    Josie swung her legs out from under the table. She was ready to go but Grace McCreary took her hand. She took it like a little girl and looked up at Josie with those worldly eyes of hers. Those eyes were bright with an almost frantic neediness that Josie had seen in Hannah's not all that long ago.
    ''Please, don't go. Help me. I really love Matthew. I thought you still did, too.''
    Josie was transfixed by the other woman's voice, her jewels, the quickness of mind that seemed to be in perpetual motion, the constant changing of her tactics. Grace dropped Josie's hand as if she suddenly realized the other woman's aversion to such a liberty. They looked at one another a second longer. It was Grace who broke the spell. She picked up her cigarettes. Josie wasn't sure if this was a diversion to hide the embarrassment of begging and being passed by or calculated strategy but it was amazing to see.
    ''I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. And you're right. This is business.'' She had a cigarette between the fingers of one hand; her lighter was in the other. She offered a solution. ''I would like to hire you on behalf of the Committee to Elect Matthew McCreary to the United States Senate. This is a committee which I head. The committee would like you to determine if there is some pending police action that might harm our ability to function on my brother's behalf.''
    With that, Grace McCreary dipped her head toward the lighter's flame and, as she did so, it illuminated her face. In the glow, her lashes slashed deep, spidery shadows over her cheeks, her nose seemed to narrow and lengthen, her cheeks hollowed. When Grace raised her head again she held the cigarette away, snapped the lighter shut and looked up at the ceiling. The smoke curled upwards as she spoke.
    ''Besides, you're interested. If you weren't, you would have left long ago.'' Grace lowered her chin, looked at Josie and said: ''Admit it. You were never really going to walk away, were you?''

CHAPTER 5

    Josie stood on the sidewalk beside an old woman. The old woman wore a flowered dress, sensible shoes and held a polka dot umbrella to protect her against a blazing fall sun. Together they watched the body of a woman hurtle through the air from the top floor of the fancy apartment building. The old lady let out a little squeal when the body hit. She jerked around as if she expected Josie to gather her into her arms, realized what she was doing and recoiled with another little squeak before they made contact. Josie smiled. Disconcerted, the old lady hurried on as fast as her legs could take her.
    Sliding off her Ray Bans, Josie went the opposite direction, chuckling all the way into the building. The display had been damn impressive – just about as impressive as the lobby of this building overlooking Long Beach's pristine shoreline. The entrance was chiseled out of white marble and warm woods then iced over with cool metal. The elevator was roomy and quick. At the top floor the doors slid back to reveal a private entrance hall that led to the open door of Matthew McCreary's penthouse home.
    Josie was no stranger to the trappings of wealth. Money had been her constant companion before she walked away from the kind of clients that made lawyers rich. After defending Kristin Davis – a woman who killed her husband with an impressive casualness and her children just after Josie successfully defended her for the first murder – Josie Bates knew she was not a champion who could be bought merely for money. Still, she had a great appreciation for the things it could buy and the things Matthew McCreary's money bought were exquisite: a spacious penthouse with canary colored walls, white moldings, floral sofas, Louis the XIV chairs covered in plaid silk washed with the colors of a summer sea. Oriental rugs. Real art. Big bucks. So different from the way he and Josie had lived.
    When Josie lived with Matthew