The Attorney Read Online Free PDF Page A

prisoners. Phi Beta Kappas telling us they should be released, turned loose so they molest again."
    "Constitutional right. Pursuit of happiness," I tell her.
    "Don't joke about this."
    "Sorry."
    "Now the state attorney general wants to get involved," she says. "He's supposed to be representing us. Instead he wants to see documents and videotapes from my office. This is not why I got into child welfare,"
    she says.
    "You got into it to work with kids."
    "So why am I spending all my time on my knees pleading with politicians who want to grandstand? Show up at the scene of every tragedy and wring their hands."
    "That's just like working with children," I tell her.
    She laughs. "You're right. Oh, right there," she says as she wiggles her bottom and the small of her back.
    I press my fingers into the desired area and massage. "There are other jobs, you know."
    "No." Susan doesn't say another word, but turns her head on the chaise to the other side, away from me, a signal chat this line of conversation is at an end.
    I am spreading Australian Gold toward the line other bikini bottom in the narrow hollow of her back, tawny skin like brown satin.
    "Nice bathing suit," I tell her.
    "You like it?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "I had to buy a new one," she says. "Two of my spare suits got ripped off in the house thing." Susan is talking about the burglary of her home the previous February.
    "I think it was kids," she says. "Who else would take Frederick's of Hollywood lingerie and two bathing suits?"
    "Some horny male burglar who likes to cross-dress," I tell her.
    "One of your clients?" she asks.
    "I'll check around." She laughs.
    Susan is also missing a television set, a laptop computer that she used for work, some other electronics, and credit cards. We are still battling with her insurance company, filing claims though Susan has insisted on dealing with the credit cards and the credit-reporting agencies herself, a sign of her independence. I told her she was lucky.
    There are people who will clean out your house and end up stealing your identity. You can spend the rest of your days fending off bench warrants for arrests on traffic tickets they get using your name, then failing to appear in court.
    "I've wanted to talk to you for a couple of days," I tell her.
    "What about?"
    "I have a problem. Maybe you could help me with it." Deftly, without looking or moving her body off the chaise, she slides her hand along my thigh, scraping her fingernails gently on my flesh moving toward the open pant-leg of my bathing suit.
    "That's not it," I say.
    "Too bad."
    "It's work related."
    "Are you sure?" She slips just the tips other fingers, long delicate nails like talons, under the material of my suit and scratches gently on my inner thigh.
    "Yes. Though if you keep that up I'm gonna have a growing problem on another front." She removes her hand. "Killjoy."
    "I really could use your help."
    "I tried."
    "Could we get serious for a moment?"
    "I'd love to." She starts to roll over, closed eyes, moist lips, a sensual grin spreading.
    I press on her back so that she cannot complete the turn and continue the massage. She gives up.
    "I need some information in a case I'm working on. Someone you might know."
    "Fine, who is it?" She sounds frustrated.
    "Have you ever heard of a woman named Zolanda Suade?" With the mention of the name the muscles in her back tense and her head arches off the cushion of the chaise. She is now looking at me as best she can from this position, my hands pressing deep into the small of her back, spreading slick white cream. I squeeze a little more from the bottle onto my hands and warm it as she studies me in silence.
    "How in the world did you get involved with Suade?"
    "Then you do know her?"
    "Yes," says Susan. "Unfortunately, I do." Her head goes back down on the cushion.
    "I thought you might have run across her, given her activities and your job."
    "Activities?" Susan is interested, but playing it cool. "What might those be?"
    "Child