Free Injustice for All by J. A. Jance

pool makes me feel selfrighteous. “
    “To each his own. What are you doing tomorrow?” “Flying to Portland. Didn’t Peters tell you?” “Tell me what?”
    “We have a custody hearing in The Dalles on Tuesday. Keep your fingers crossed.”
    Peters was at war with his ex-wife. She got religion in a big way and went to live with a cult in Broken Springs, Oregon, taking their two little girls with her. Peters wanted them back. Ames took the case, joining the fray at my request and on my nickel.
    What’s the point in having money if you can’t squander it?
    “That closemouthed asshole. That’s good news.”
    “So what do you want, Beau? This is my day off. It is Saturday, you know.”
    “How about flying into Sea-Tac today instead of Portland tomorrow? I’m up on Orcas Island. There’s someone here I’d like you to meet. I told her you’d take a look at her situation.”
    “Which is?”
    “Divorce. Messy. With political ramifications. Looks like collusion between her husband and her father-in-law to toss her out without a pot to piss in.”
    “Are you giving my services away again, Beau?” “I care enough to send the very best.”
    He laughed. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. Let me call you back.” I gave him the number. As I hung up, Ginger appeared at my elbow. “Who was that?”
    “Ames, my attorney from Phoenix, remember? I told you about him. I asked him to come talk to you.”
    “Here? On Orcas?”
    “Sure.”
    “But you said he was in Phoenix.”
    “He is. He was coming up tomorrow, anyway. He’s trying to get a reservation for this afternoon. “
    “From Phoenix?”
    “If you’re going to file on Monday, you need to talk to him tonight or tomorrow.”
    “How much is it going to cost?”
    “Nothing. He’ll put it on my bill.”
    I correctly read the consternation on Ginger’s face. “How do you rate?” she asked.
    “I thought you were just a plain old, ordinary homicide detective. How come you have a high-powered attorney at your beck and call?”
    “It’s a long story,” I said. “I came into a little money.” “A little?” she echoed.
    “Some,” I conceded.
    “I see,” Ginger said.
    “You done with Cole?” I asked, changing the subject. “He’s one happy reporter.” She grinned. “That story will make Darrell’s socks roll up and down. It should hit the paper tomorrow. ” “What did you say?”
    “Enough. I named names. At least a few of them. A private detective had already checked those out. Darrell will come across as an active philanderer. Hot stuff.”
    We left the lobby and walked toward the new room where housekeepers had moved Ginger’s things. “What do you think Darrell will do?” I asked. She gave a mirthless laugh.
    “He’ll huddle with Homer and the PR man. The three of them will decide how to play it. Name familiarity is name familiarity. They may get more press if they do an active denial. They’ll take a poll and decide.”
    “That’s pretty cold-blooded. “
    “Um-hum.”
    “But how are you going to feel with your personal life splashed all over the front page?”
    We reached the building where her new room was. Ginger stepped to one side, waiting for me to open the door. The eyes she turned on me were luminously green and deep.
    “I just found out about personal,” she said softly. “None of that is going in the paper.”
    There was a tightening in my chest and a catch in my throat. Mr. Macho handles the compliment. I tripped over my own feet and stumbled into the hallway. I found her room, unlocked the door, and handed her the key. “Are you coming in?”
    The invitation was there, written on her face, but I shook my head. “Ames is supposed to call my rbom. I’d better not.”
    “Does that mean I can’t see you? Have I been a bad girl and you’re sending me to my room?” she teased.
    “No. Let me see what’s happening as far as Ames and Peters are concerned. Maybe you and I can go on a picnic.”
    “Terrific.