Genuine Lies

into a chair. “You haven’t changed. You know, Lincoln, I wasn’t sure what I would feel, seeing you again. But the one thing I didn’t expect was nothing.” She let out a little sigh. “So, let’s shovel away the gratitude, and do what has to be done. My father had the greatest respect for you as a lawyer, and since his opinion weighs heavily with me,you’ll have all my cooperation, and for the time it takes to put things right, my complete trust.”
    He merely nodded. Lincoln appreciated good, solid sense. “Did you kill Eve Benedict?”
    Her eyes flashed. He was surprised to see such deep and volatile anger spark so quickly. “No. Did you expect me to admit if I had?”
    “As the daughter of two of the best attorneys I’ve ever worked with, you already know it would be foolish to lie if you want me to represent you. Now then…” He took out a blank legal pad and a black Mont Blanc pen. “I want you to tell me everything you did, everyone you spoke with, everything you saw on the day Eve Benedict was murdered.”
    She went through it once, then again. Then, led by his questions, a third time. He made few comments, only nodded from time to time as he jotted down notes in his neat, precise hand. Julia got up only once to refill his glass, and to pour one of her own.
    “I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to acquaint myself with the evidence against you. Naturally, I notified the D.A., and the investigating officer that I would be your attorney of record. I was able to secure a copy of certain reports from the prosecutor before I came here, but only glanced at them in the cab.”
    He paused, folding his hands in his lap. She remembered he had always had that same quiet, tidy manner. It, plus the sadness in his eyes, had first attracted a romantic, impressionable teenager to him. Now, though the gestures were the same, the sadness had been replaced by shrewdness.
    “Julia, are you certain you unlocked the door to enter the house that afternoon?”
    “Yes, I had to stop and look for my keys. Ever since the break-in I’d been much more careful about locking up.”
    His eyes remained level, his voice even. “Are you quite sure?”
    She started to respond, then stopped and sat back. “Do you want me to lie, Lincoln?”
    “I want you to think very carefully. Unlocking a door isa habit, an automatic sort of motion that one might assume one did. Particularly after a shock. The fact that you told the police you unlocked the front door, and all of the other doors were locked from the inside when they arrived on the scene, is very damning. There were no keys on the body, no extra keys found around the house. Therefore, either the door was unlocked to begin with or someone, someone with a key, let Eve in.”
    “Or someone took Eve’s key after they killed her,” Paul said from the stairs.
    Lincoln glanced up. Only the faintest tightening around his mouth revealed any irritation at the interruption. “That is, of course, one angle we can try to pursue. Since the evidence points in the direction of a crime of passion and impulse, it may be difficult to convince a judge that someone was in the house with Eve, killed her, then had the presence of mind to take the key and lock up.”
    “Then again, that’s your job, isn’t it?” Paul walked over to the bar. His fingers moved to the bourbon, backtracked, and settled on club soda. The temper he was holding back didn’t need the kick of liquor.
    “It’s my job to give Julia the best possible defense.”
    “Then I’m sorry to make it more difficult for you, Lincoln, but I unlocked the door, with my key.”
    He pursed his lips and reviewed his notes. “You don’t mention touching the murder weapon, the fireplace poker.”
    “Because I don’t know if I did or not.” Suddenly weary, she dragged a hand through her hair. “Obviously I did or my fingerprints wouldn’t have been on it.”
    “They might if you’d built a fire within the last week or two.”
    “I hadn’t. The nights have been pleasant.”
    “The weapon was found several feet from the body.” He took a file out of his briefcase. “Are you up to looking at some pictures?”
    She knew what he meant, and wasn’t sure of the answer. Bracing herself, she reached out. There was Eve, crumpled on the rug, her face still so breathtakingly beautiful. And the blood.
    “From this angle,” Lincoln was saying, “you see the poker is lying over here.” He leaned forward to touch a finger