Sheer Gall by Michael A. Kahn

still with Abraham Grozny. She must have impressed Sally, because when Sally left Grozny to start her own firm four years ago, she asked Amy to come with her full-time. Amy declined at first, unwilling to give up on her acting career, but accepted a year later. During her first year with Sally, she tried to do some moonlighting in modeling and acting, but the markets remained tight. Eventually, she threw in the towel.
    â€œMaybe you can try again now,” I said.
    She shrugged. “It’d be even harder now. I’m just about over the hill.”
    â€œYou’re kidding.”
    â€œI wish I was. I’m twenty-nine.” She sighed. “Believe it or not, that’s middle-aged in the fashion world. As for acting—real acting, I mean—well, that’s a tough road.”
    â€œNot if it’s what you love.”
    â€œI know.” She gave me a self-conscious look. “I might actually give it another try once we get Sally’s cases farmed out.”
    â€œReally?”
    She nodded. “This killing freaked me out. I mean, there was Sally, zooming along in her career, things getting better every month, big plans for the future, and then, boom, curtain time, strike the set, sayonara, baby.” She paused, and shook her head, staring down at the empty pizza box. “It really made me rethink my own priorities.” She looked up with a sheepish grin. “I signed up for an acting class yesterday. The first class is tonight. I called my old dance teacher this morning to see if she has room for me. She does.”
    â€œGood for you, Amy,” I said, reaching across the table to pat her hand. “I say go for it.”
    She smiled. “We’ll see what happens.” She paused, her eyes watering. “This really shook me up.”
    â€œI’m sure it did.”
    â€œAnd then that horrible thing the other day with that floater. My God, that was dreadful.”
    I shuddered. “I know.”
    Two days ago, a family of four from Iowa had been having a pleasant lunch on the floating McDonald’s restaurant that was moored to the Mississippi River levee downtown when Junior spotted something bobbing against the side of the boat. It turned out to be the dead, gas-bloated body of a twenty-four-year-old waitress who had lived and worked on the outskirts of Belleville, Illinois. According to preliminary autopsy reports, she appeared to have been shot in the head and dumped in the river somewhere north of St. Louis.
    â€œI used to know her,” Amy said, shaking her head sadly. “She was another one.”
    â€œAnother what?” I asked gently.
    â€œAnother struggling actress.” Amy looked at me and sighed. “First Sally, then Jenny. It’s totally freaking me out. Yesterday I bought myself a gun and a big German shepherd. I bought him from a breeder who trains attack dogs.” She shook her head ruefully. “I used to be a bleeding-heart liberal.”
    â€œHey,” I said with a smile, “I just started taking a self-defense class for women.”
    Amy smiled. “All those assholes out there better watch out for us, eh?”
    After we cleaned up the kitchen we went into Sally’s office. It was plain and functional, with framed diplomas, bar admission certificates, and a few commendations hung on the wall above her credenza. Amy sat on the couch and I pulled up a chair to face her. I took out my notes and started asking questions.
    I was surprised to learn that Amy hadn’t found out about Sally Wade’s lawsuit against Neville McBride until she read about it in the newspaper after Sally was dead.
    â€œI had assumed you typed the draft petition,” I said.
    â€œNo.” She gestured toward the personal computer on the credenza. “Sally prepared many of her court documents in here. Let’s see if that petition is there.”
    She went over to the computer and turned it on. As we waited for it boot up,