prepared. This isn't a shoplifting case. If we make one mistake, the State is going to kill you. And you can be damn sure that the DA will find out every little secret you decide to keep from me.
I' m sorry.
Sorry doesn't cut it. Anything you tell me is confidential. Remember me saying that? I don't care how bad it is, you tell me. No one else gets to know, but I've got to know if I' m going to save your life. Okay?
Justine didn't answer. She just stared past Amanda, who let her collect herself.
How did they find out? Justine finally asked.
The same way Herb Cross did when my father was representing Vincent.
Justine's head snapped up. Your father had me investigated?
Dr. Cardoni told my father that you killed the victims in Milton County. We followed up on the accusation.
How can you represent me if you think I framed Vincent? Justine asked angrily.
I don't think that, and neither does my father. He never believed Cardoni. He was just doing his job.
Can the DA bring up Gil's and David's deaths?
He'll sure as hell try.
Will it be in the papers?
Of course. Even if we keep the evidence from the jury, the legal arguments will be in open court.
Justine squirmed in her chair and her shoulders hunched.
This is no good, she said, more to herself than Amanda. Then she looked across at her attorney. You can't let them do this, she pleaded. No one knows about my past here.
The DA does. He knows that you insured Gil Manning for a hundred thousand dollars less than a year before you shot him.
That was for the baby, Justine said desperately. When we got married, Gil was working construction. He wasn't making enough for us to have our own place. I had to think about how I' d take care of our baby if something happened to him.
You didn't cancel the policy after your miscarriage, Amanda said softly.
Justine looked stunned.
After my baby ... After he ... I ... I wasn't thinking very clearly for some time after that happened.
Alex DeVore interviewed Gil's parents. They believe you murdered Gil.
Anger restored color to Justine's cheeks. She glared at Amanda.
Do you know why Gil thought it was okay to use me as his private punching bag? He watched his father use his mother that way. Living in that house was like living in hell. Gil and his father were both abusive drunks, and the drinking got worse when high school ended. All of a sudden Gil wasn't a god, and neither one of them could take that. Then I lost my figure when I got pregnant, and Gil wasn't married to the most desirable girl in Carrington anymore. I became an inconvenience, except when Gil needed someone to blame for his problems.
Why didn't you leave when he started to beat you?
Where could I go? My parents wouldn't look at me after Gil knocked me up. I had no money.
Gil's parents say you drove him to drink and tormented him until he lost his self-control.
Of course they say that.
There's an interview with David Barkley's parents in which they accuse you of setting him up.
That's not true. I loved David.
They say they warned David that you were after his money. They also say that David didn't drink.
His parents didn't know the first thing about him. The autopsy showed that David's blood alcohol was point- two-oh. He hated them, and he drank because of the pressure they put on him. I loved David, but he was an alcoholic. I thought I could change him, but I couldn't and he died.
The neighbors say you and David quarreled the night he died.
Justine looked down at the tabletop.
He was drinking too much, she said softly. We had words, and he stormed out and drove away. I couldn't stop him.
You inherited David's trust fund and the proceeds of another life insurance policy when he was killed.
Justine looked directly into Amanda's eyes when she said, Yes, I did.
And there was another policy on Dr. Cardoni.
Which the insurance company refuses to pay.
Nevertheless, you see how this looks.
No, Amanda, I see how the district attorney wants to make it look. I' m counting on you to make a jury see the way it really is.
Chapter 48
Amanda broke into a smile when the receptionist announced that a Dr. Fiori was calling on line two.
Hi, Tony said. I had a great time Friday.
That makes two of us.
I got home late from the hospital. That's why I didn't return your message sooner. I was afraid I' d wake you.
Actually, I was probably up. I've been working on Justine's case into the wee hours. Any luck at the hospital?
Hey, I' m a regular Dick Tracy. Not only did I come up with a list, but I've already eliminated a few suspects.
How?
I followed them.
Don't do that!
I thought I' d save you some trouble. Tony sounded hurt.
I' m serious, Amanda insisted. It's dangerous. Fax me the list and let my investigator do the rest.
Don't panic. I' m being very careful.
Damn it, Tony. Promise me you'll stop.
Okay, okay, I promise. Tony paused. Seeing as you're pissed, is this a bad time to ask you out for this Saturday?
Amanda laughed in spite of herself.
You're on, she said, but only if you behave yourself.
Listen, I've got to run. Think of something nice for Saturday and get back to me.
Hey, brother, you get back to me.
Anyone as aggressive as you are can take care of dinner reservations. That'll teach you to bust my balls. And it better be a nice place.
What ever happened to take-charge guys?
They both laughed and said goodbye. Amanda was still beaming when Frank rapped on her doorjamb.
There's a Cheshire cat grin, he said. Good news, I take it?
Amanda blushed. It could be worse.
Well, I've got good news of my own. Art Prochaska is willing to meet with us.
When?
Now. Grab your coat.
The night that Berkeley won the PAC-10 swimming championships Amanda went carousing with her teammates. One of the bars they hit was a male strip joint. Amanda had cheered and hooted with her friends, but secretly she' d been embarrassed. She felt even more uncomfortable when she entered the Jungle Club with Frank. Onstage, a woman with unnaturally large breasts danced unenthusiastically to a blaring ZZ Top tune. Amanda averted her eyes and followed Frank past the bar to a short hall at the end of which was an office. A man with a bull neck and massive shoulders stood outside the door.
We're here to see Mr. Prochaska, Frank told him.
He's expecting you.
Art Prochaska was squeezed behind a desk at one end of the narrow room. He had put on weight since the motion to suppress, but he was no less intimidating. Prochaska's tailored suit gave him an air of quasi- respectability. He and Frank shook hands across the desk.
