Suspicion of Deceit Read Online Free PDF Page B

breakdown, she married Arthur, who was much too old. And then Lloyd Dixon came along. He made a pile of money with his cargo company, and Rebecca could have anything she wanted—except children. She was never able to conceive. Lloyd's not very nice to her. He must be difficult to live with. I don't think she has a happy life."
    Rebecca's story—with so much left out. Which parts had really happened? Could the truth ever be fixed, or only guessed at?
    At the meeting at the Dixons' apartment Gail had seen Seth Greer, half-hidden behind the open top of the baby grand, watching Lloyd Dixon's wife. But did that mean love? They had lived together when they were young, and had loved each other then, Gail supposed.
    Chunky, gray-haired Seth Greer, wisecracking and stumbling over melodies on the piano. A world away from representing the indigent. And Rebecca had never become what she wanted, either. What turn had their story taken? What tragedy? But he still loved her. Gail wanted that to be the ending.
    She jumped slightly when her mother grabbed her arm and pointed toward the stream of passengers emerging from the concourse—some speaking Spanish, others with tourist tans, some wearing T-shirts from Puerto Rico.
    They moved forward. With her height, Gail could see better than Irene, who stood on her toes. The people streamed past. Gail looked, and looked. "What if she missed the flight?"
    "She couldn't have."
    "I should have called Dave."
    "No, he'd have called you if she wasn't on it."
    "Well, where is she?"
    There, walking alongside one of the flight attendants. Karen. She seemed taller and browner, a gawky girl in shorts and big sneakers, ten years old, her sun-streaked hair hanging down from a baseball cap. Bright blue eyes swept over the crowd.
    "Karen! Sweetie, over here!"
    The bill of the baseball cap turned quickly. "Mom! Gramma!" Karen ran across the lobby, dropped her bag, and launched herself into Gail's arms.

CHAPTER FOUR

    It was almost ten in the morning when Gail pulled into her space in the parking garage. The upside of having your own business, she told herself, was being able to take your kid out to breakfast on a Monday morning. Drive her to school instead of sending her off on the bus. Then linger at the curb to watch her run to catch up with her friends. Still be there when she turned around to wave goodbye. And after that, make a bank deposit, drop off some dry cleaning, and go by the computer store. At Hartwell Black & Robineau, Gail would have been at her desk for two hours already.
    There was a downside, of course. Hartwell Black had been in business since the twenties. Gail A. Connor, Attorney at Law, P.A., had opened for business only three weeks ago. Gail had time to run errands today only because there were no trials, no depositions, and nothing that she couldn't put off until Tuesday. Except for speaking to Thomas Nolan. She would do that after lunch.
    Sometimes Gail would imagine the clicking of pulleys and gears, and the laughter of crowds down on the midway, and seeing only sky with her back pressed against the seat like that, and her sweaty hands on the bar, hoping to God that the old leather belt they'd strapped her in with would hold. At Hartwell Black she had specialized in complex commercial litigation, and still had some leftover cases to finish, but they would soon be over. She did pro bono work for charities to make a good name for herself, and friends sent things her way. Even so, it would be some time before she would turn a profit. Anthony had said that if she ever needed help—No, no, I'll be fine.
    When she came in, her secretary, Miriam Ruiz, was kneeling on the floor putting files into the bottom drawer of a cabinet. She scrambled up to take the bags out of Gail's hands. "Hi. What's this? Oh, good, you got the accounting software. How is Karen? Is she glad to be home?"
    "Very glad. She brought you something—from Dominica, I believe." Gail found it in her purse, a