Mistletoe and Murder in Las Vegas Read Free Page A

in its chain-of-command.”
    “You’re showboating, Joanne. I’m not a jury.” He sat on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms.
    She gave her best I’m-humbled-by-the-truth nod. “Then let’s skip the icing and go right to the cake. I know this case better than anyone. I have spent at least sixty hours conducting interviews, plus reading that pile of...discovery at least twice, some parts more. Since taking this case, I have not gotten lost once while driving, had difficulty telling the time or confused my left hand with my right. Last, I promise to abide by Judge Fields’s ruling because I want to work within the system to effect justice for Sebastian.”
    “No.”
    His short, snappy response took her aback. “No discussion?”
    “No.”
    The urge to argue was almost overwhelming but she forced herself to stay quiet for a few seconds, determined to hold onto some shred of dignity.
    “You’ve already replaced me,” she said tightly.
    “I’ve assigned Eddie to do your closing. It’s for the best...you’ve probably lost all credibility with that jury.”
    “Eddie can’t litigate his way out of a sandwich wrapper. He pleads out cases and negotiates lousy deals.”
    “It’s out of your hands, Joanne.”
    “Just…just stop already with the Joannes , okay? This conversation is crappy enough without acting as if Amanda died.”
    They sat without speaking, the only sounds the murmur of conversations and occasional laughter from other offices. Roger brushed something off his pants, crossed his arms again and met her eyes. That look chilled her to the bone. After all the years she’d known him, it was like staring into the eyes of a stranger.
    Dyslexia got a bad rap, but it had some benefits, too. Like being able to read people, which many dyslexics did quite well after years of relying on visual cues to compensate for words. Roger knew this, of course, which was why he held himself stiffly, a bland look on his face.
    She still read him loud and clear. The stronger scent of his cologne told her he was sweating from nervousness, and his crossed arms were a defensive shield to hide something or block some kind of perceived attack…she guessed the latter as his hands were fisted, as though steeling himself for an argument.
    She couldn’t ignore her own body signals, either. Her heart was racing as if trying to outrun even more bad news...which caught up with her anyway. It was the only logical conclusion to this stupid, painful episode.
    “You’re firing me.”
    He began talking fast, gesturing. “Paul wants your resignation, effective immediately…”
    Paul wants…Paul says…
    She scanned the legal documents, calendar, coffee cup on his desk, pausing on a Pelikan fountain pen she’d given him for his birthday two years ago, before moving on to his smartphone that lay screen down. She wondered who had texted him.
    Next to the phone was an almond.
    Roger was allergic to nuts. She once rushed him to ER after he accidentally ate a dish at a Chinese restaurant that contained crushed Brazil nuts.
    She recalled seeing a jar of almonds on someone’s desk this last week…right, that new public defender, Tiffany something. Blonde, slim, with a dazzlingly smile that screamed porcelain caps. She’d started at the PD’s office a few months ago…liked to sprinkle her conversations with French words…
    Joanne felt sick to her stomach.
    Oh, God. Roger was having an affair…right under her nose.
    How dumb could she be to miss the signs? No, correct that. She had seen the evidence, but some part of her refused to believe his late nights at work, or leaving the room to answer his phone or dressing differently meant he was…
    Screwing Tiffany.
    She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Tears stung her eyes, but no way in hell would she let the bastard see her cry. Let him see how much she had loved and believed in him…in their relationship…in their future...
    Despite her legs feeling as if they’d vaporized