Lou Mason Mystery - 02 - The Last Witness by Joel Goldman Page A

year. That thing with Sullivan & Christenson,” she began. “We didn’t teach you that in law school.”
    “We’ve both been in the papers. All things considered, I prefer the comics.”
    “Amen to that.”
    A faint patchwork of crow’s-feet and laugh lines had crept onto her face since he was her student, changes she wore well. She was five years older than him, a gap that mattered then but was now a distinction without a difference.
    “Was it difficult?” she asked him.
    “Was what difficult?”
    “Killing that man. The article in the newspaper said that he would have killed you if you hadn’t. I suppose that made it easier, but it still had to be a hard thing to do.”
    Mason had come to understand the reluctance of men who’d gone to war to discuss their battles. Heroes were for bystanders. Soldiers killed so that they could live. That’s what he’d done, and he’d found no glory in it.
    “That’s all old news. I left you a message yesterday. You could have just called back. I would have come to your office.”
    “I was out of town. When I got home this evening, I read the paper and saw you and the mayor on the news. I decided a house call would be more private. I live at the Alameda Towers and the press has practically camped out in the parking lot.”
    “How did you get past them?”
    “Our building is connected to the Intercontinental Hotel. I parked in the hotel garage and walked through the hotel. The press can’t get past my doorman and they haven’t figured out my secret entrance.”
    “Gee, that’s a better setup than having Alfred and the Batcave.”
    Beth laughed. “You were always good at that in law school. I used to watch you with your friends. You were always the one who made everyone laugh.”
    Mason grinned. “If you were watching me, you know I was watching you. If only I’d have known.”
    Beth shrugged. “I was your teacher, but I wasn’t dead.”
    “Is it too late for extra credit?”
    “It’s too late for that, but I hope it’s not too late for you to help me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
     
    Mason drained his beer and carried it to the sink. He leaned back against the counter and studied her.
    She had drawn him in with a mix of vulnerability and flirtation that he found engaging, flattering, and, under other circumstances, irresistible.
    “The governor appointed you because you were an expert on ethics, on right and wrong. You know who my client is and why I called you. When this case is over, I could represent you. But not now.”
    “I’m not asking you to be my lawyer. I know better than that.”
    “Then what do you want?”
    “Protection.”
    “From who?”
    She crossed the room to him, stopping within arm’s reach, trembling, begging to be held without saying a word. Mason clamped his hands on the counter’s edge.
    “Protect you from what?” he repeated.
    She dipped her head, looked away, and then turned her back to him.
    “You’re right. I shouldn’t have come here. My office would have been better.”
    “Maybe not. If you tell me who or what you’re afraid of, I may be able to help you. But you realize the position we’re both in here.”
    She stiffened and took a deep breath and went back to her chair. “Let’s stick to your business. I’ll take care of mine. Why did you call?”
    Mason didn’t press. He wasn’t looking for more complications.
    “Good enough. Tell me about last Friday night. Why were you out with Jack Cullan?”
    Beth straightened, her posture saying she was ready to get down to business. “He asked me out. We’re both single. He was a very interesting man, well read and charming when he wanted to be.”
    Mason heard the words but didn’t believe them. “You’re telling me that in the middle of a scandal over whether Cullan had you in his back pocket, he asked you out on a date and you said yes? Are you nuts?”
    Beth clasped her hands, setting them on the kitchen table. “I’m forty-three years old. I’ve been married