Quiet as the Grave

“Did you retain counsel?”

Mike shook his head. He had trusted that innocence was everything. He had believed in the system. He still believed in it, at heart, but…

“I didn’t think I needed one. I thought it would look bad if I got a lawyer.”

Parker sighed. “So many people make that mistake. But everyone needs representation. Even innocent people need help handling the system.”

He reached into his pocket. “Here—this is Harry Rouge’s card. I brought it today because I had a feeling you might need it. I knew Harry in D.C. He’s good, and he’s got some experience with murder trials.”

Mike felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Surely you don’t think this is going to get that far? To a murder trial?”

“Of course it will, with any kind of luck. She was murdered—there’s no getting around that.” Parker smiled grimly. “But Harry will make sure it doesn’t go to trial with you as the defendant.”

Mike took the card. It all felt like a bad dream. Even the card felt unreal. Or maybe it was just that his fingers were numb.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Now you do me a favor, okay?” Parker pointed to the back of the courtyard. “See my poor beautiful wife over there being bored to death by Bourke Waitely?”

Mike looked. Sure enough, Sarah was sitting next to Bourke, a polite smile plastered to her face like a bumper sticker. She looked desperate.

“Yes,” Mike said. “I do.”

“Well, go save her, would you? Ask her to dance. I’m going to see if I can pry the amazing Miss Strickland from your grandfather’s clutches.”

Mike stood, then held out a hand to help Parker to his feet, too. He looked over at Suzie, but he’d barely begun to formulate his idea even in his own mind before Parker began shaking his head.

“Bad idea,” Parker said softly. “The last thing in the world you need right now is to appear interested in another woman.”

Mike frowned. “For God’s sake, Parker, I’m not—I mean Suzie’s not ‘another woman.’ I’ve known her forever. She’s just a friend. She’s just…Suzie.”

“Wrong,” Parker said flatly. “She used to be just Suzie. Things are different now. Look at her, Mike. Now she’s a motive.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“OKAY, NOW…MAKE SURE you’re balanced, and that your legs are touching the wall, right?” Suzie, who was standing on her head, took a quick look over at Gavin, who had just arranged himself, also upside down, next to her along the wall of Summer House’s back porch. “You comfortable enough?”

Gavin wobbled, but steadied himself. “I guess so. This marble is pretty hard on my head.”

“Yeah, it helps if you have grass, or a pillow or something. But we’ll just have to make do. Now, the whole point is to stare at something interesting.”

She used one hand to fold up the loose part of her shirt, which was dangling down over her face, and tuck it under her chin. Good thing she’d worn jeans to this party instead of that skirt she’d been considering.

“How about the stairs that lead to the grotto?” She pointed. “Right over there, with the statues on each side.”

Gavin moved his hands for better purchase. “Yeah, the statues look goofy upside down. And look—there’s Cordelia, way out there. Hey, weird. I didn’t know she looks like her mom, but when you see her like this, upside down, you can tell. And she’s really got crazy hair.”

Suzie smiled, which was actually easier while you stood on your head. Gravity worked with you for a change.

She hoped it was making Gavin smile, too, or at least distracting him a little. When she’d run into him a few minutes ago, here in this secluded corner of the back patio where she’d come to hide from Granville, he had seemed upset. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it. He’d been willing to say only that one of the boys at the party had been a jerk.

But he had appeared on the edge of tears, so she’d pulled this old game out of her hat. It was the kind of crazy thing sensible people rarely did, so she hoped it would shock him out of his distress.

Her gaze caught on something nearer, something red and pointy. It was her fancy shoes, which she’d taken off before she’d stood on her head.

“Hey, look at my shoes. Man. I had no idea they were so plug-ugly.”

“Yeah!” Apparently Gavin was too young to know he was supposed to disagree. He laughed, which made his legs wobble again. “Those spiky heels look like knives, like weapons or something.”

Well, he was right. They did.

“I need new shoes, that’s for sure.” She brushed them aside. “But that’s the point, see? Sometimes, when things start to get you down, you need to step back and view the world from a new perspective.”

“Hey! There’s Dad! It’s like one of those movie tricks, where he seems to be walking upside down.”

Suzie watched Mike coming toward them, climbing the stairs with the physical grace that marked everything he did. Viewed this way, it was even more apparent. His body seemed to belong to him in a way hers had never belonged to her. She was always tripping on her own feet and flinging her elbows into things. He was a thoroughbred racehorse, and she was a just-hatched duck-billed platypus.

He was squinting, as though he couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing, and she saw his smile dawn as he finally comprehended. She briefly considered scrambling to her feet, but realized that would just look even dumber.

Better to brazen it out, even though she could tell that his gaze was locked on her bare stomach. Damn it, the blood had been flowing to her head for five minutes now, but he’d probably think she was blushing because of him.

“Hi, Dad,” Gavin said. “We’re getting a new perspective.”

“It’s a game we used to play in art school,” Suzie put in, trying to sound rational in spite of her bare feet and her hair pooled all over the marble. Also, with her lungs pressing into her throat like this, she sounded like Daffy Duck.

“Yeah?” Mike was still smiling.

“Yes. It helps you to start seeing what’s really there,” she explained, “instead of what you’re expecting to see.”

“Okay. So, what do you think, Gavin? Does the world look better from that angle?”

That was all it took. Gavin, who obviously had remembered his earlier distress, did a kind of backward somersault—just as gracefully as his father might have—and leaped to his feet.

“Dad, where’ve you been? I was looking for you. I want to go home.”

Oh, well. It had been worth a try. Suzie dropped her feet and stood up, too, though it involved a lot more undignified wriggling. She tugged at her shirt, trying to make it settle around her hips again, but one of the ribbons was stuck inside her bra. She had to drag it out like a long strand of red linguini.

“Can we, Dad? Can we go home right now?”

“We really ought to stay for the cake.” Mike hesitated. “Why would you want to go so soon?”

“It’s Spencer’s friend Joe. I don’t like him. He said—”

The boy cast a quick glance at Suzie. But then he decided that either she could be trusted, or his frustration was too intense to leave room for discretion.

“He said some really bad things about you, Dad. There’s a cop out at the edge of the driveway, and Joe said that’s because you’re here. He said the cop is following you to make sure you don’t—”

Mike’s face was suddenly dark, his jaw clenched. “Make sure I don’t what?”