Free Evidence of Guilt by Jonnie Jacobs

level it was good news. If the prosecution had a slam-dunk case against Wes Harding, who could blame us for losing?
    "You won't hate me for trouncing you in court, will you?" Curt asked with a self-satisfied smile.
    While Curt's certainty about the case made me uneasy, it also made me more determined than ever to fight back. I gave his hand a gentle pat. "You're not going to be the one doing the trouncing, sweetheart."
    It surprised me to discover I meant it. I don't like to lose, but more than that, I found myself feeling oddly supportive of Wes.
    Curt's smile broadened. Lack of confidence was not one of his shortcomings.
    He signaled the waitress and ordered us each a second drink. By unspoken accord, we left further discussion of the Wes Harding issue for another day and venue. Instead, we swapped lawyer jokes and told war stories about cases and clients from hell. I declined his invitation for dinner
    largely because I felt we'd about run out of things to say to one another.
    Not that it wasn't pleasant while it lasted. Despite his smug and sometimes pompous posturing, Curt Willis was an easy companion. There'd been a time, once, when I'd been angry with Tom and full of enough wine that I'd actually considered the possibility of romantic involvement. Luckily, Curt had had as much to drink as I had, and he'd passed out on the living room sofa before I had a chance to consider further.
    We parted ways at the door to Ollie's. I stopped back by the office, picked up my messages and the file of clippings Myra had set out for me, then headed home by way of Taco Bell. My take-out meal was cold by the time I got back, but at least I didn't have to cook. Or clean up afterwards.
    What with Curt's announcement about the blood-type results and the two margaritas I'd put away at Ollie's, I wasn't in much of a mood for work. Nonetheless, in the interests of keeping my clients happy, and thus in a mood to pay their bills, I made myself a cup of coffee and set about returning the most urgent messages.
    This was the downside of small-town practice. While I'd been at Goldman & Latham, I'd often worked late nights and weekends, but rarely had I been called upon to deal with flesh-and-blood clients other than during regular office hours. Since a round or two of telephone tag was more or less expected, few people sat around awaiting your call. Small-town clients, on the other hand, expected more personalized service.
    There were only five messages, and I took care of the first three quickly. The remaining two were from Ms. Sheri Pearl, daughter and conservator of the more affable Mrs.
    Irma Pearl. On the bottom of the second message Myra had penciled in her own communication-- -Would you PLEASE call this woman before she has a blowout in her bloomers!
    I placed the call, giving a silent prayer of thanks when the answering machine clicked on. I would leave a quick message and be off the hook, at least temporarily. But no sooner had I started to leave my name than the phone picked up.
    "Goodness, Kali, I've been trying to reach you for days."
    Sheri was apparently home after all. "I've been swamped," I told her.
    "I made an appointment for next week, but I wanted to talk to you first so you'd have a chance to think things through before our meeting."
    And therefore bill her for a short conference rather than a lengthy one. Clients seem to think they ought to get your thinking time for free.
    "I've been going over Mother's finances--and between the money she poured into sweepstakes and the bogus investments she got herself involved in--well, there's not a lot left. Certainly nothing liquid. I need to raise some cash and I thought I'd start by selling the house. There's no sense keeping it."
    "Except that your mother gets such pleasure from visiting for the afternoon."
    "She's never going to be able to actually move back. You know that as well as I do. And the place is an effort to keep up."
    "I thought your cousin was staying there."
    "She is,