Free Beyond Suspicion by James Grippando

faint shadow had appeared.
    A chill ran up her arm and down through her body. She’d examined it from every angle, at varying degrees of magnification. This wasn’t a cloud or a tree branch bending in the breeze. The form was definitely human.
    “Daddy, please,” she whispered. “Just leave me alone.”
    She tucked the photograph into an envelope and turned out the light.

12
    •
    Jack and Cindy went out for dinner Friday night, a neighborhood restaurant called Blú, which specialized in pizzas from wood-burning ovens. It was a bustling place with a small bar, crowded tables, and smiling waiters whose English was just bad enough to force patrons to talk with their hands like real Italians. The chefs were from Rome and Naples, and they dreamed up their own recipes, everything from basic cheese pizza like you’ve never tasted to pies with baby artichokes, arugula, and Gorgonzola cheese. It was Jack’s version of comfort food, the kind of place he went whenever he lost a trial.
    “How bad was it?” asked Cindy.
    “Jury was out all of twenty minutes.”
    “Could have been worse. Your client could have been innocent.”
    “Why do you assume he was guilty?”
    “If an innocent man were sitting in jail right now, you’d be kicking yourself all over town, not stuffing your face with pizza and prosciutto.”
    “Good point.”
    “That’s the truly great thing about your job. Even when you lose, it’s actually a win.”
    “And sometimes when I win, it’s a total loss.”
    Cindy sipped her wine. “You mean Jessie?”
    Jack nodded.
    “Let’s not talk about her, okay?”
    “Sorry.” He’d told her about the latest confrontation with Jessie, though Cindy hadn’t seemed interested in the details. The message was pretty clear: It was time to put Jessie behind them.
    “Do you think I made a mistake by leaving the U.S. attorney’s office?”
    “Where did that come from?”
    “It ties in with this whole Jessie thing.”
    “I thought we weren’t going to talk about her tonight.”
    “This is about me, not her.” He signaled the waiter for another beer, then turned back to Cindy. “I used to think I was good at reading people, whether they were jurors or clients or whoever. Ever since Jessie, I’m not so sure.”
    “Jessie didn’t just lie. She manipulated you. This latest episode proves what a total wack job she is. You said it yourself, you thought she was on drugs.”
    “Maybe. But what if these investors really are after her?”
    “She should go to the police, exactly like you told her.”
    “She won’t.”
    “Then she isn’t really scared. Stop blaming yourself for this woman’s problems. You don’t owe her anything.”
    He piled a few more diced tomatoes atop his bruschetta. “Two years ago, I would have seen right through her.”
    “Two years ago you were an assistant U.S. attorney.”
    “Exactly. You remember what my old boss said when we all went over to Tobacco Road after my last day?”
    “Yeah, he spilled half of his beer in my lap and said,
Drings are on the Thwytecks
.”
    “I’m serious. He warned me about this. Guys go into private practice, get a taste of the money, pretty soon they can’t tell who’s lying and who’s telling the truth. Like ships in dry dock. Rusty before they’re old.”
    “You done?”
    “With what?”
    “The pity party.”
    “Hmmm. Almost.”
    “Good. Now here’s some really shitty news. Just because the rust on the SS
Swyteck
is premature doesn’t mean this ship is getting any younger, bucko. Even your favorite Don Henley songs are finding their way to the all-oldies radio station.”
    “You really know how to hurt a guy.”
    “It’s what you get for marrying a younger woman.”
    “Is that all I get?”
    She bit off the tip of a breadstick. “We’ll see.”
    The loud twang and quick beat from Henley’s “Boys of Summer” clicked in his brain, triggering a nostalgic smile.
I still love you, Don, but man, it sucks the way time marches