Last to Die by James Grippando Page B

Cuban girl. Too bad Maria was married.
    How'd the depo go, Jack? she asked as she handed him his taza of espresso.
    Same old, same old.
    She smiled and shook her head, as if all too aware that a quip like that could mean anything from utter boredom to an all-out fistfight.
    Jack headed down the hall to his office, past the conference room that doubled as his library. He noticed Kelsey was busy at the table, doing a Westlaw search on the computer. She was wearing running shoes and black spandex exercise leggings that revealed just enough of the former ballerina to confirm that somewhere under that big, baggy aerobics T-shirt was one amazing body.
    Expecting clients today? he said as he stuck his head into the room.
    She checked her attire. Sorry. I just stopped by on my way to Body and Soul.
    He assumed she wasn't talking about some kind of new-wave religion. Have a good workout.
    Thanks.
    He started out the door, then stopped and came back into the room. Actually, I have a favor to ask of you.
    Sure. What?
    It's on the Sally Fenning matter. I met with her ex-husband for lunch.
    How'd that go?
    He took a minute to bring her up to speed, telling her all about the stalker that Miguel thought was responsible for the death of their daughter. He also told her how Sally had apparently come to think that he blamed her for the whole tragedy.
    What's your take? asked Kelsey. He the kind of guy who blames the victim?
    He says he's not. And he didn't come across that way.
    A good guy, or just talks a good game?
    Not sure. I did pull his divorce file, just to see if there might be any insights.
    And?
    It played out just the way he said. Even though this shark Gerry Colletti was his lawyer, Miguel kept him on a pretty short leash. Sally got all the assets, Miguel took the debt. Not much of a fight there.
    Which makes you wonder: Why is the divorce lawyer on her list of enemies?
    Exactly, he said. And that's exactly where you come in.
    Kelsey grabbed her pen and paper, as if eager for the assignment.
    Okay.
    Put the pen down. This isn't research.
    She smiled. You mean I'm actually going to get to do something outside the library?
    Maybe. Here's the deal. I can accept the fact that Sally structured her estate in a way that would torture her ex-husband into thinking that he might someday come into big money. I don't have children, but just from my relationship with Nate, I know that if someone blamed me for the brutal murder of my child, there would be no limit to the anger I would feel.
    Ditto.
    But like you said, that doesn't explain the divorce lawyer. In fact, absolutely nothing came out during my talk with Miguel Rios that shed any light on why Sally felt the same anger toward any of the other beneficiaries.
    You think there's something Mr. Rios is not telling you?
    Something he's not telling me, or something he just doesn't know.
    How do we plug the hole?
    I talked to Tatum right after lunch. The way he met Sally was through a referral from her bodyguard. Tatum says the bodyguard is willing to talk with me tonight. He moonlights as a bouncer at a club on South Beach and said he'd give me a few minutes on his break. He could be a real window into Sally's head.
    No doubt about it. How can I help?
    I'd like you to come with me.
    Wow. Real sleuthing. The kind of work any third-year law student would die for.
    I have to confess. I feel a little guilty about asking you.
    Why? Because you need to interview a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal, and you think he's more likely to talk to a good-looking woman than to Jack Swyteck?
    Jack took a half-step back, surprised. How did you know that?
    For one, on a certain level you're as much a Neanderthal as he is, which gives us women a distinct advantage in figuring out what you men are really up to.
    I see.
    Plus, Tatum called the office about a half hour ago. We talked. He said it would be a much more productive meeting if I went along and flashed a little cleavage.
    I didn't ask you to flash cleavage,