Genuine Lies

black Columbian coffee ran like a river over the glossy white tiles.
    Julia.” Her name whispered through his lips as he groped for a chair.
    She sat alone, curled into a corner of the couch. The notepad she’d tried to write on was held limply in her hands. She’d told herself to make a list, her priorities. What had to be done.
    She needed a lawyer, of course. The best she could possibly afford. It might mean taking out a second mortgage on her home. Even selling it. Eve’s money—had she wanted to consider it—couldn’t apply. As long as she was suspected of causing Eve’s death, she wouldn’t be allowed to benefit from it.
    Death benefits. She’d always found that an awkward term. No more so than now.
    She had to arrange for Brandon to be taken care of. During the trial. And after, if … It wasn’t time to think of
if.
She had no family. There were friends, many of whom had tried to reach her already. But to whom could she possibly give her child?
    It was there her list had stopped, because at that point she could go no further.
    Every few minutes the phone would ring. She would hear the machine click on, and Paul’s voice would inform the caller that no one was available. Interspersed with the reporters were the concerned. CeeCee, Nina, Victor. God, Victor. When she heard his voice, she shut her eyes. Did he know? Did he suspect? What could they possibly say to each other now that wouldn’t cause more pain?
    She wished Paul would get back. She wished he would take longer so that she could just be alone. He had told her only that he’d had things to do. He hadn’t told her what they were, and she hadn’t asked.
    He’d driven Brandon to school himself.
    Brandon. She had to make arrangements for Brandon.
    When the phone rang again, she continued to ignore it. But it was the urgency in the voice that had her listening, then recognizing, then staring.
    “Julia, please, call me as soon as possible. I’ve canceled my appointments for the day and arranged to stay home. I just heard, on the news, this morning. Please get back to me. I can’t tell you how … Just call. The number here is …”
    Slowly, hardly aware she had risen and crossed the room, she lifted the receiver. “Lincoln. It’s Julia.”
    “Oh, thank God. I wasn’t even sure they’d given me the right number. I pulled all the strings I could manage at L.A.P.D.”
    “Why are you calling me at all?”
    It wasn’t bitterness he heard, but puzzlement. It made the shame almost unbearable. “Because you’re about to face a murder trial. I can’t believe it, Julia. Can’t believe they have enough evidence for trial.”
    His voice was the same, she realized. Neat and precise. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she wondered if he still had his underwear pressed. “They seem to think they do. I was there. My fingerprints are on the weapon. I’d threatened her.”
    “Jesus Christ.” He ran a hand through his smooth blond hair. “Who’s representing you?”
    “Greenburg. He was Eve’s lawyer. Actually he’s looking for someone else. He doesn’t practice criminal law.”
    “Listen to me, Julia. Don’t speak to anyone. Do you hear me? Don’t speak to anyone.”
    She nearly smiled. “Shall I hang up, then?”
    He’d never understood her humor and plunged straight on. “I’m going to get the first plane out I can. I’m a member of the California Bar, so there’s no problem. Now, give me the address where you’re staying.”
    “Why? Why would you come here, Lincoln?”
    He was already formulating his reasons and excuses to his wife, to his colleagues, to the press. “I owe you,” he said tightly.
    “No. You don’t owe me anything.” She was holding the phone with both hands now. “Do you realize, does it evenoccur to you that you haven’t asked about him? You haven’t even asked about him.”
    In the silence that followed, she heard the door close. Turning, she saw Paul watching her.
    “Julia.” Lincoln’s voice was quiet, utterly reasonable. “I want to help you. Whatever you think of me, you know I’m the best. Let me do this for you. And for the boy.”
    The boy, she thought. He couldn’t even say Brandon’s name. She rested her head in her hand a moment, struggling to get beyond emotion. Lincoln had said one thing that was perfectly true. He was the best. She couldn’t afford to let pride stand in the way of freedom.
    “I’m in Malibu,” she said, and gave him the address. “Good-bye, Lincoln.