Scales of Justice Read online

  I could hear his sigh on the other end of the phone line. “I was warned that this might happen. Before I decided to build in Misty, I consulted with other people regarding potential locations and the best way to establish the spa. It’s pretty common to encounter people in a community who don’t want any new businesses to come in. At least not ones that are owned by ‘outsiders.’”

  I was pleased to realize that it was a lot easier to talk to the handsome Dr. D on the phone than in person. This way I wasn’t as distracted by his charm and could carry on my end of the conversation. Suddenly I remembered that Bryce was still sitting in my living room.

  “Listen, I have company right now. Could I—”

  “Oh, of course. Pardon me. I should have asked. I’ll let you go.”

  I was surprised to realize that I didn’t want to let him go. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, your business looks perfectly legitimate. I might even come looking for a massage myself at some point, considering how conveniently close to my home it is...”

  Just as I said this, I realized that it sounded a little more suggestive than I had meant it to. Of course, Dr. D wouldn’t be giving any massages himself. And I was pretty certain he wouldn’t be living at the spa. So the whole idea of going next door to get a massage from Angelo was ridiculous, but my subconscious didn’t seem to know that.

  “Anytime!” he said, sounding enthusiastic. “And in the meantime, if you have any thoughts on how I might best respond to the folks who put the poster up, in terms of reassuring them, I would really appreciate your counsel. In fact....” He hesitated for a moment. “It might make sense for me to ask you to represent me. It could be wise to have a local attorney on the scene. Of course, I have counsel here in New York regarding the spa plans. But you’re on the ground to respond there in Misty, and I presume you’re a member of the Connecticut bar?”

  “Yes, I’m admitted in Connecticut.” My heart beat a little faster, conflicted though it was at the thought that he was asking me to do work for him. That meant some money in my pocket. But it would also mean that exploring any kind of a closer friendship with Angelo would be off the table. I couldn’t be dating my client.

  I heard a noise to my right and turned to see Bryce standing in the kitchen door. He was smiling again, and I could have sworn that he could read my thoughts. I had no doubt I was blushing again. Darn this red hair and fair skin.

  “I should be back to Misty later in the week,” Angelo said. “I’d appreciate hearing your perspective on how to handle the opposition to the spa as well as whatever you might be able to glean about Winthrop’s death. Unfortunately, I’m no doubt going to be a prime suspect.”

  “I’m certainly happy to help you if I can, Angelo.”

  “Excellent. We’ll formalize the arrangement when I’m in town. You’ll prepare a representation agreement? I’m happy to give you a retainer, of course.”

  “Perfect.”

  I was feeling quite proud of myself for putting this on a professional footing and getting a significant new client. I said goodbye and hung up the phone. As I turned to look at Bryce, I could see that his smile had spread.

  “So, Pepper. It sounds like you and the angel of love might be getting in bed together. Businesswise I mean, of course.”

  “Angel of love?”

  “Angelo D’Amore? Angel of love.” He laughed. “You’d better brush up on your Italian, cara mia.”

  “He goes by the name Dr. D, Bryce.”

  “Indeed?” Bryce looked even more amused. “That sounds like good medicine.”

  I walked over to him and batted him on the arm. “You just keep your dirty thoughts to yourself. This is a professional relationship. He wants me to represent him.”

  “Well, good for you, Pepper. You can make money, get some more street cred as an attorney here in Misty, get to know the guy... And then when you’ve stopped being his lawyer, you can slip into something more comfortable in terms of a relationship. Sounds perfect.” He was smiling widely now, and I was blushing again.

  “Bryce! Don’t encourage me. He’s nearly irresistible as it is. Super gorgeous, smart, charming, and rich... and I do not want to develop a potential crush on my client. Besides, I’m already confused enough between ditching Jared last week and being interested in Logan, who may or may not be separated from his wife—”

  “Honey, the trick is to get all those guys interested in you, and then play hard to get. They’ll be all over you! Believe me, I know men.”

  I sighed. “I’ll worry about romance later. Right now I need to make sure one of them doesn’t suspect me of murder. And that my client is cleared too!”

  “Well, then you’ll just have to figure out who did it.”

  “Exactly.” I sat down at the kitchen table, and Bryce joined me. I squeezed his arm. “That’s my top priority.”

  He gave me a wry look. “And after you solve the murder, you can take your pick of boyfriends.”

  Mr. Woogles came over to the table and barked at me. I could swear he was smiling too.

  “There’s just one thing, sweetheart,” Bryce said, all at once sounding serious. “And I almost hate to mention this and burst your bubble.”

  He looked down at the floor and then back at me. “I know this man is hot and rich and a doctor, all very compelling qualities, but what if he’s the guy who actually wanted Winthrop dead? I mean, it’s not as though we know anything about him.”

  I felt a powerful instinct to defend Angelo. But before I lashed out at Bryce, I took a breath. “I don’t think he is. And that’s just one more reason to get to the bottom of this mystery.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I sat behind my desk, trying my best to look both authoritative and interested. I was having some difficulty. Trixie Dingle and her husband, Buddy, had come back to talk about the porta-potty case.

  “As I explained earlier, Trixie, I’ve done some research regarding your case. I can’t in good conscience encourage you to proceed with an attempt at legal action.” I closed the file in front of me, hoping that Trixie would take no for an answer.

  “Are you saying that you refuse to represent us?” Trixie turned to Buddy, and her back stiffened as she sat up straighter. “Buddy, I told you! I told you that the little guy can’t fight the system!”

  I tried not to smile. “Trixie, it’s not a matter of refusing. I can’t take your money for a case for which there’s no reasonable legal justification. It would be unethical. Lawyers aren’t supposed to file suit in cases that have no chance of success. I’m sure you’ve heard of judges throwing out lawsuits because they’re considered ‘frivolous.’”

  I tried to keep my voice soothing. “I did look at pertinent case law, as you requested. I’d be willing to represent you in this if I thought there was a reasonable chance of succeeding. There’s just no precedent for suing because a toilet was used for its appropriate purpose, no matter how pristine it was supposed to be.”

  “But the DNA!”

  I repressed another smile. “What DNA?”

  “The... the poop! Surely they can test it for DNA and find out...” Trixie wrinkled her pert little nose. “Whose it was.”

  “But...” I hesitated. “Surely the waste was flushed away? Isn’t that the whole idea of a fancy toilet trailer with a flushable toilet?”

  Trixie leaned in toward me, her long manicured nails sliding along the mahogany desk and making screeching noises. “Have you contacted the Krystal Kleen company? I bet it was one of them.” Her voice became lower, sounding both paranoid and devious. “Do you think they’re legal? The Krystal Kleen workers? Daddy suggested... I mean, maybe we can get the illegal immigrant agents to deport them?”

  I stood up. “I think we’re done here. I’m sorry I can’t help you further.” I walked around the desk and opened the door to my office. “Feel free to contact me again. I’d be happy to represent you in another matter.”

  I crossed my fingers behind my back in the old schoolgirl gesture I us
ed to make when I fibbed. Happy is the last thing I’d be to represent Trixie Dingle in connection with anything. But since it was unlikely that any of the Johnson-Dingle clan would darken my doorstep again, it was easy enough to make the offer. Misty was a very small town, and it wouldn’t be good to provoke the ire of one of its most influential families.

  As Trixie and Buddy left, I heard the new bride muttering to her husband. “Daddy has a real hardass lawyer in New York. I bet he can get somewhere with this.”

  Once they were safely out of the house, I headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to make lunch, Mr. W. I need... something... after spending time talking to those two.” He trotted after me, looking happy to have seen the last of them.

  “She’s thoroughly unpleasant, isn’t she? I can’t imagine what life is like for him. Or why he’d want to spend forever with her.” Woogs gave me no response, but he looked thoughtful. “Well, maybe it’s all that family money. The Johnsons have lots of bucks.”

  I plopped back into my desk chair, trying to get Trixie and her case out of my mind while I focused on how I could help Angelo. There was definitely somebody behind the movement to stop his spa.

  Nibbling at my sandwich while I went into intense Google mode, I found a number of articles about a company called Oceanside Bliss that was building a chain of spas up and down the East Coast. Obviously there was a lucrative and growing market for those services.

  A local glossy magazine had a piece reporting that this group had come to check out Misty last year. It made sense. Our town had a lot of the attributes they seemed to want—it was close enough to a metropolitan center to be accessible to a lot of potential customers, and it was on the water. Up and coming but not yet so expensive that land was unaffordable.

  That led me to an article about the sale of a big parcel of land. It was the site of an old Misty factory that had been boarded up since I was a teen. I knew the place—the building was abandoned but still looked reasonably intact. The property included some green space and a big parking lot. I noted the name—Old Guard Investments, Inc.

  With only a few more clicks, I was able to look up who was behind that company by finding the online database at the Connecticut Secretary of State’s office. The name of the incorporator turned out to be none other than Big Daddy Johnson himself. I sat back in my chair, shaking my head.

  “Would you look at that, Woogie? It’s Trixie’s father. Well, isn’t this interesting?” My pup was sleeping on my feet by now, happily satisfied after his lunch, but he raised his head long enough to look interested, thumping his tail in a gesture of general approval.

  I gently removed my toes from under his silky head. “I think it’s time for the beach, buddy. I have to do some deep thinking, and that calls for a walk.”

  Woogs jumped up, his tail wagging. I grabbed my hat and sunglasses and headed out of the house, pulling the door closed behind me. Between Trixie Dingle, her unsavory case, and the discovery that her father seemed to be investing in some kind of new enterprise, now seemed a good moment to get some fresh air.

  We crossed the street to the grassy bluff, then headed down the concrete steps to the beach level. All the small bushes and natural grasses were bright green, with wild roses and small white flowers sprinkled along beside the pathway. What were those flowers called? I’d have to ask Bryce. Or Liz Cantwell. Liz would know. I reached down to pick up a heart-shaped rock and slipped it into my pocket to add to my collection.

  The heart-rock collection had started back in high school, when Logan spotted one on this very beach and handed it to me. I wondered whether I still had the original rock.

  My doggy buddy and I meandered along the beach for most of an hour. I loved watching the gentle waves break on the sand and the diamond pattern the sunlight made on the Sound. I let my mind drift. Swirling around in my head as I walked were thoughts about Logan, Angelo, seaside spas, and balconies collapsing. How did it all tie together?

  I called to Mr. W as he frisked on the edge of the water. “Woogie! Time to go home.” He ran back to me and got me as wet as usual by waiting until he was by my side for the big shake.

  “Thanks, pal. I appreciate that.”

  He did a little dance around me, and I clipped his leash back onto his collar. As we headed back down the beach, I spotted my house and Angelo’s next to it. His still had yellow police tape all around it, and I noticed that the balcony railing was mostly gone. All the parts that were hanging off had been removed, and it looked like the doorway from the house onto the balcony was boarded up.

  Just what happened up there before Winthrop fell?

  Chapter Fourteen

  I headed for Madame Sofia’s house near the center of town, only a few blocks from the beautiful grounds of Misty’s art deco concert venue, Crystal Hall. As I drove by the ornate entrance, my mind drifted to the thought of someday putting on my own show there.

  Back in high school, I’d sung on that stage twice as a member of the school choir. After that, part of what had fueled my passion for singing was the dream of being a solo artist starring in a concert for all my friends back in Misty-on-the-Sound. By the time I’d graduated and decided on singing as a career, I was sure I would someday be the headliner.

  But that grand dream seemed to be getting less likely every year. That’s what I got for wavering between the sensible and the creative life. Was I a lawyer, or was I a singer?

  Why couldn’t I be both?

  I rang the bell and heard Madame Sofia’s familiar tones sing out “Coming!” She hadn’t lost the resonant voice that served her well in Europe as a young coloratura soprano.

  When she opened the door, Madame gave me her usual hug, grasping me by the shoulders with her strong hands and looking straight into my eyes. “Have you been practicing, Pepper?”

  I swallowed, feeling a little bit guilty for not having spent more time on the songs. As usual, I had waited until the day before to really focus on her assignment for this lesson.

  “I have,” I said, trying to keep my eyes on hers. “Of course, I didn’t perhaps spend quite as much time—”

  She laughed. “Never mind, my dear. I know you very well by this time. How long have you been studying with me?”

  I followed her into the living room and plunked my bag of music down on a chair. “I started as a sophomore, so I was sixteen. And I took a few lessons while I was still living in New York, whenever I got out here to Misty to visit Mom. Plus, I’ve been taking them since I’ve been in my new house, so two months or so. How much does that add up to?”

  “Quite a lot, I should say. And it has taken you some time to be serious about your singing.” She looked at me with her usual stern gaze. “Are you ready to do so, finally?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  She seemed pleased, if a bit skeptical. “Now, let us begin with some breathing.” She stood me in front of the full-length mirror so I could observe my form. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant bun, her russet-brown skin contrasting with my pale freckled cheeks. She squared my shoulders and gently lifted my chin just a bit. “Don’t tuck down into your neck, Pepper. Just be relaxed. You know how to support your voice.”

  After a few minutes of breathing exercises, followed by scales, we finally got to the singing part. “Did you work on the Italian piece?” she asked.

  I nodded, happy that I’d spent time on it yesterday. I pulled out my book of Italian arias and opened it to “Caro mio ben.”

  Madame Sofia turned to me with a sharp look. “You’ve memorized it, of course?”

  “I did,” I said hastily, hoping that I would remember the Italian text.

  “In front of the mirror, please,” she said.

  I turned myself to face the mirror as she began to play the opening notes on the piano. I assumed the proper position and inhaled deeply and slowly through my nose to prepare for the opening phrase. After we went through the song, Madame smiled.

  “Very good work, Pepper. I’m proud of you. This is a piece you
can definitely put in your repertoire after we have spent a little bit more time with it. You’ll have to continue to working on it on your own. You need to get the notes deep inside your body.” She nodded to me and turned back to the piano. “This time, let’s take the piece a little more freely. And relax on the top notes. They are absolutely within your range, and you need to let go of the notion that you can’t reach them.”

  I sang through the piece again, and it was definitely a better rendition than the first time. When I finished, she took her hands off the keys. “So when do you plan to get back to performing, Pepper? You used to be so eager to get on stage.”

  I grabbed my water, taking a generous swallow. “I’d love to perform more. And of course, you know that I sang last weekend at the big Trixie Johnson, Buddy Dingle wedding on the bluff.”

  “Yes, of course. How did that go?”

  “I was terrifically nervous, but I did fine in the end. My rendition was cut short by a little drama, though.”

  “What happened?”

  “The bride discovered that her specially rented porta-potty had been... soiled... by someone else before she got there. So she was very upset, and her screams interrupted the proceedings for a bit.” I took another swig of water. “But that was nothing compared to what happened later, when she came to me to see about suing the porta-potty company. There was a tragic death next door.”

  “Oh, yes! I heard about the man who fell from the balcony. That’s all everyone is talking about. I hadn’t focused on the fact that you live right there across from the beach.”

  “I live right next to the property where it happened. In fact, I’m a suspect.”

  “My goodness! You mean... they think it was intentional? No one could possibly think it was you, dear. What motive would you have?”

  “The guy who fell was an attorney, Roger Winthrop. He and I were not exactly buddies. In fact, just before he fell, the newly married couple, Trixie Johnson Dingle and her husband Buddy, were in my office and heard me shouting to my secretary that Winthrop was a crook who had stolen money from me.”