Love Can Be Murder

anything to disgrace me and her father on her own."
    Roxann stopped. Cameras flashed. "Angora was arrested for murder, and you're worried about the family name? God, you're such a bitch." They'd probably bleep that part out on the local news.
    Dee's face went scarlet. "Peasant. Just like your father."
    "I take that as a compliment." She stepped up her pace and caught up with her white-faced attorney. Phyllis Troy had the most impressive ad in the Yellow Pages but was more nervous than Roxann at the prospect of a conference with the DA. Not a good sign.
    The meeting-room door stood open. Roxann held back until her aunt and uncle passed through, then closed the door behind Phyllis, who was now visibly shaking.
    "Come on in and have a seat." District Attorney Robert Mason waved them in. He was a big blond-haired man in his fifties who had the voice and demeanor of a Baptist preacher. He lorded over a dark wood conference table surrounded by padded chairs. One of the chairs was occupied by a young woman whom he introduced as an assistant DA. Angora's attorney, the round-faced Mr. Brown, occupied another. He had dressed up, sporting a new denim shirt, and his curly hair was slicked back with something shiny. Angora herself looked frail and victimized sitting in a wheelchair and wearing a paper gown. A blanket covered her legs. She refused to make eye contact, which suited Roxann just fine. Dee and Jackson moved their chairs to sit on either side of Angora and hold her hands. Sadly, it was probably the most of their undivided attention she'd ever received.
    "How was jail?" Mason asked Roxann without preliminary.
    "Unpleasant," she answered. In a single night the institutional funk of the place had permeated her skin, hair, and clothing. Thanks to a doctor's note, Angora had been spared the same treatment and confined to a guarded hospital room until her arraignment, which had taken place this morning moments before Roxann's. They both had pleaded "not guilty." Roxann tried not to let the fact that Capistrano hadn't shown up in court, or since, bother her. The episode in the hotel room was a manifestation of mixed emotions, none of them grounded. She had thought of a way to get rid of him, but first things first.
    Mason opened a file on top of the stack in front of him. "This wasn't your first time in our jail."
    "No. I was arrested twice during protest rallies when I attended the university."
    Dee made an indignant noise in her throat. "I'm not a bit surprised."
    Mason swung his gaze in her direction. "They were peaceful protests."
    "Roxann has always been a troublemaker," Dee said, her head bobbing. "She's a bad influence on Angora." From the tone of her voice one might have thought Angora to be a six-year-old.
    The DA cleared his throat loudly, indicating he wanted silence, but Dee was never good at taking a hint.
    "My daughter would do something illegal or immoral only if Roxann talked her into it."
    Angora's attorney turned his slick head. "Mrs. Ryder, would you kindly shut your pie hole?"
    Roxann blinked, and her estimation of the greenhorn rose a couple of notches. Not only was he astute enough to realize that Dee wasn't doing Angora any favors, but he didn't mind telling her. Wow.
    Her own attorney, meanwhile, leaned over and puked something brown on the beige carpet. She was hustled to the ladies' room and the goop temporarily covered with an upended trash can. When Phyllis returned, apologetic and pastel, everyone reconvened at the opposite end of the table. Roxann was getting sick to her stomach, not because of the throw-up, but because this Troy woman was probably making ten times her salary.
    "Let's get right to it," the DA said. "Ms. Beadleman, Ms. Ryder, as you can imagine, this is a high-profile case with all the trappings of a scandal, which the university could do without. So we'd like to take care of this matter as expeditiously as possible." He paused and looked back and forth between them for effect. "Basically, we think you're both involved in the murder of Dr. Seger." He let the words sink in. "But whichever one of you talks first gets to walk."
    Roxann chanced a glance at Angora, who was chewing on her lower lip. Dee was massaging her hand and whispering low, with a pleading look on her face. Panic blipped through her—Angora wouldn't lie to save her own skin, would she? Her heart thudded. Of course she would.
    Since her own attorney was useless, Roxann leaned forward and clasped her hands on the