Frat Party (Sisters In Law Book 1) Read online

  She sat forward and spread her hands. Excitement rose in her eyes. "I want him to love his job. That starts with feeling like you're making a difference. With feeling like you're actually helping people. That's the secret."

  "Like I said, there's nothing wrong with being able to pay all your bills too."

  "You'll get no argument there. My question is, will he perceive me as someone with leadership qualities, someone he'll follow? Don't forget, Billy, I was a sergeant in the Army, an NCO. This guy's discharge rank was captain. He outranks me. There will always be that, no matter what."

  "Is that a showstopper?"

  "Only if he lets it be."

  "Once he sees what you're made of, he'll jump right in and follow. There's also the matter of the Silver Star you won in Afghanistan. Does this Mitchell guy have one of those on his chest?"

  "Misnomer. The Silver Star is actually a gold star hanging on the end of a red, white, and blue ribbon. It's very impressive to anyone in the military. It might cancel out the rank thing."

  "Can you wear it to the office?"

  "No. Besides, Edward Mitchell is going to have to see other traits in me that cause him to follow. I don't want competition in the firm. I want cooperation, a team of team players."

  "You've got that as far as me and Melinda out front are concerned."

  "I know that. You guys save my life on a daily basis."

  "Look here, did you see this? Four bad checks his senior year?"

  "Saw and noted. He was a poor boy. Or else his folks had disowned him. Whatever. It was once very common for new law grads to file bankruptcy the day they graduated. That was back when you could get rid of student loans in bankruptcy. They closed that loophole. It's still common for the married ones to file divorce papers on the day they walk across the stage. Not very kind to the spouse who supported them for three years. Those are the kinds of things I would shy away from. Bad checks happen, like speeding tickets happen. They aren't about moral wrongs. More about supply and demand."

  "Agree. I know. I was in one of those places."

  "I remember. Thaddeus got you out, got you cleaned up, and gave you your first paralegal job."

  "God bless Thaddeus Murfee. Even my own mama in Alabama prays for that man."

  "He probably needs it. Lots of it. So look, let's bring the guy in. We've made him wait the mandatory ten minutes past the appointment hour."

  "I'll go get him. Be right back."

  Christine watched Billy walk back through the L-shaped office and disappear around the corner.

  He returned minutes later with a tall, dark man carrying a black notebook. He came toward Christine, extending his hand to shake, and she peered into light blue eyes with smile lines at the corners. His hair was black and long on top, short on the sides, and his extended hand was angular in the way of mannish hands, with strong fingers and carefully trimmed nails. "Ms. Susmann, hello. I'm Ed Mitchell."

  Christine took his hand in hers, shook it, and tried not to stare too long into those light blue eyes. Feeling slightly flustered, she sat back down and held up his resume.

  "I've read this," she said, as if announcing she had found a vein of gold. She wondered at her voice; it sounded as if it were floating in very cold air, threatening to break and fall to the floor. Was she being too reserved because she was attracted? She tried a warmer tone. "Very impressive resume. Very impressive."

  "Thank you," he said, and took the nearest visitors' chair when she indicated he should sit.

  Then he surprised her.

  He leaned forward in his chair and spoke in the friendliest possible way. "I know the usual M.O. for these meetings is you ask, I answer. But would you mind if I asked a few questions first?"

  Christine smiled. "That would be cool. Go for it."

  Now he sat back and crossed his right ankle over his knee. He pulled at the trouser leg and settled in.

  "Well, I've done some background on you. I know about what happened in Russia. You were arrested and jailed. My question is, were you on a CIA mission at that time? The articles I've found seem to think so. At least it's what President Irunyaev was claiming, that you were a CIA spy come to murder him."

  Christine said thoughtfully, "Well, even if it were a CIA mission, it wouldn't have been a mission to Russia. Remember, we were skyjacked. We were supposed to land in Zurich and I was making connections there."

  "So what was your destination?"

  She was pierced with a strong desire to tell him he was way out of bounds now, but she let it slide for one more answer.

  "Can't say. Truth be told, I don't even know. I wasn't to find out until Zurich. Which, like I said, we never reached."

  "Next question. Is there a future for me here? Or am I filling some sort of long-term need that might peter out?"

  "There is a huge future for the lawyer I hire. The sky's the limit when it comes to salary. I'm already thinking two hundred thousand to start, plus a piece of any jury awards."

  She could almost hear the air go out of him. He blinked once, twice, and was truly speechless. Slowly, he recovered.

  "Excuse me? Did you just say you're paying your new hire two hundred K plus a percent of recoveries?"

  "You heard right. Listen, Mr. Mitchell, I never intended for my law practice to turn a profit. Truth be told, I don't need it to turn a profit. As you also read about me, I'm literally fixed for life after suing the Russian president and hacking off four hundred and fifty million of his U.S. assets. But then a funny thing happened. The practice has been self-supporting and has turned a profit from the sixth month and thereafter. Go figure."

  "And what's the thrust of the practice?"

  "Right now it's public policy work. But in fact I've just been appointed special prosecutor on a case out of the Cook County DA's office. If it looks fun and interesting, I'm in."

  "Would I have a say in what cases we accept if I come here?"

  "No, except yes to those you bring in. I have to retain my own autonomy when it comes to clients."

  "Of course. Hell, it's your law practice. No argument there."

  "What about you? Are you looking for long term?"

  "I'm looking for a career position. Right now I have an offer pending from the DA. It's fair and looks promising. You're my last interview before I tell them my decision."

  "Well, what's your decision?"

  "Well, tell me about my autonomy."

  "Totally autonomous, one hundred percent. I need you to step in and take over probably fifty heavy-duty cases and run with them. This thing with the DA's office is going to eat into my day big time. Can you do that?"

  "Sure. So long as you're around for questions when I need you."

  "Of course. Also, there's a firm car in it for you."

  A smile spread across his face. "Did you just make that up?"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  She returned the smile. "Because I want you onboard. Biggest reason? You're ex-Army and so am I."

  "I know you are. Silver Star. I bow down to that."

  "Really? How about the fact that you're a captain in the reserves and my rank was sergeant?"

  "It's like a combat mission. We answer to whoever the CO says. In this case, you're the CO. We have no issue there."

  "Good. I had to ask."

  He played with the cuff of his pants for a moment, then uncrossed his legs and learned forward again.

  "What kind of car?" he asked almost sheepishly.

  "Your choice. Up to a hundred grand."

  "When would I start?"

  "You just started. What do you say?"

  He extended his hand and leaned forward. His pale blue eyes fastened on her own and held her gaze.

  "I say yes. I just enlisted."

  They shook on it.

  "Welcome aboard. We'll get you provisioned and set up tomorrow morning. Does eight to five work for you?"

  "Christine, after my insane hours in the Army, eight to five is a blessing."

  "Al
l right."

  Now she stood.

  "Welcome, Ed Mitchell. I'm glad we have a deal."

  7

  Jamie Susmann was thirteen, the son of Christine and Sonny Susmann, and was often surrounded by a family room full of friends. He had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy at three months and hadn't learned to walk until he was four years old. Now he walked with the aid of forearm crutches and ingested anticonvulsants to control his seizures. Still, Jamie was a happy guy. "My kid with the sunny disposition," Christine called him. "Look at this kid. His smile would light up a tomb."

  When Christine arrived home the night of the DA's selection of her as special prosecutor, Jamie was in his bedroom, working on a programming problem in the C# programming language.

  "What does all that stuff mean?" she asked, trying to rest her hand on the young man's neck as she came up behind him at his desk. He moved away from her hand--as all thirteen-year-old boys do--and pointed at the screen.

  "I'm building software that will recognize facial and body expressions in video and indicate whether the person is lying."

  "You what?"

  "Sure. There are telltale facial twitches and expressions that are dead giveaways. My software analyzes faces and tells me in what percentile of truth-telling the face falls. It's pretty cool, Mom. Watch. See this feed along the bottom of the screen? It's analyzing videos of my face frame by frame and reporting back truth percentages."

  Christine folded her arms and looked at the screenful of code.

  "Can you demo it live for me? I'd like to see it work."

  "Not yet. Right now I'm working up the recognition algorithms. I'm a few hours away from a demo. But I'll get there before bedtime."

  "Yes, you always do. Tell you what, come down and help me fix dinner."

  "Do I have to?" His voice went up a notch. Not whiny, but playing around the edges of whiny.

  "No, you don't have to. But I'd like you to."

  "Not right now, okay?"

  "Okay. I'll have to make my plans to go interview some college guys without you. Too bad, because their veracity is very important to my case. I was thinking maybe I'd try your new software on them. The first guy lives in Alaska. That's where I'm headed tonight."

  Jamie spun in his chair, inserted his arms in his crutches, and pulled himself upright.

  "No way! You're not going without me!"

  "That's what I thought. But you're so busy here, I thought maybe you didn't want to be disturbed."

  "I'm not that busy, Mom. Come on, already."

  By the time they got downstairs, Sonny was walking in the back door.

  "Hey, everyone," he said. "Dad's home."

  He swept up Christine and kissed her hard on the mouth. "How's my favorite barrister?"

  She squirmed away. "I'm fine. I'll be even better when you shower then try that again."

  "Please," said Jamie. "Get a room, you two."

  "Hey," said Sonny to Jamie. "I've never been able to restrain myself when it comes to your mother."

  "Sure. I'll bet."

  Sonny and Christine took seats at the long table in the kitchen/family room. Jamie pulled out a chair and sat down at the head of the table. The room was large but made cozy by bright patterns in the furniture and pastel landscapes hung on the walls. The furniture was high-end collectibles mixed with Eames lounge and wireframe chairs.

  "So, Mom's going to interview a guy in Alaska and needs me to help out," said Jamie. "Is that okay with you, Dad, if I go to Alaska?"

  Sonny was a fit, athletic thirty-five-year-old who ran his own construction company. His days were spent moving men and materials to assignments. Nights were spent moving numbers around on spreadsheets. Sonny and Christine had married when she was in her early twenties and back from a tour with the Army in Afghanistan. He had been twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, and driving dump trucks for a living. Shortly thereafter they had adopted Jamie, who was beset with overwhelming medical problems. She had reluctantly returned to the Army in order to take advantage of the medical benefits her family would receive if she were serving. She had returned to active duty after a year in the reserves and spent a year with the military police in Kabul. During her final year in the service she had trained and worked as a paralegal for a team of JAG officers in Germany. Following that, she had come home and taken over with Jamie as a working mom. Naturally, as a reservist, she still received Tricare medical and dental for her family.

  "She needs my help, Dad. Can I go?" asked Jamie again.

  Sonny broke into an embracing smile. "Of course you can go. Mom says she needs you, you go."

  "Thanks, Dad. Mom, what time are we leaving?"

  "In one hour."

  "What?"

  Christine rested her hand on Jamie's shoulder. This time he didn't pull away.

  "We'll be leaving in one hour for O'Hare."

  "Can I fly shotgun?"

  "You know the rules. FAA says two pilots in a jet. Don't bother asking."

  "I know, but I'm working on my private pilot's license and could use the time."

  Christine laughed. "You, getting logbook time in a jet, when you're flying little Cessnas for your license? Somehow that doesn't compute with me."

  Jamie looked away. "Doesn't hurt to ask."

  She squeezed her son's shoulder. "Always ask. You never know. It's like trolling out of a boat. You never know what you might hook."

  His face lit up. "Hey, what should I bring?"

  "Levi's, sweater, jacket. Weather is volatile in our forty-ninth state. And how about your laptop and video camera? We'll take it out for a spin."

  "I'll work on my software on the way up. You need it tomorrow. I'm on it."

  "All right, Jamie, now go. I want to talk to your dad."

  "Cool."

  Once Jamie had headed upstairs, Christine reached across the table and took Sonny's hand. "Busy day?"

  He leaned back. "Let me grab a beer. Want anything?"

  "I'm good."

  "I need alcohol. It was one of those days."

  "Tell me."

  He bent and studied the interior of the refrigerator. "Coors--ah, here we are." He popped the top and took his place back at the table. There he took a long drink, swallowed, then gave a satisfied belch. "Plumbing's all bent to hell at the apartments. Everything's bass-ackwards."

  "So you had another day of undoing LeMarch Plumbing's screw-ups?"

  "Pretty much. It adds probably two days to the contract. Maybe just one. Depending on how many guys they send to re-do it. Now, what are you up to? Why Alaska?"

  "It seems the DA's office wants me to take on one of their cases. First potential witness is in Alaska. College kid."

  "Alaska? Where's the school?"

  "Right here, Chicago U. He dropped out this semester and I want to find out why."

  "Is he in trouble?"

  "Might be. Date rape case."

  "This kid raped his date? How's that work?"

  "I didn't say that. I'm saying I need to talk to him. I want to let Jamie try out his new software, too. See whether it works."

  Sonny took another swallow and narrowed his eyes at his wife.

  "Still, why would you be willing to fly all the way to Alaska on a rape case? Isn't there enough work in Chicago?"

  She poured a cup of coffee. "This has the potential to be bigger than just a criminal case. This could involve a civil case as well."

  "I don't follow."

  "Well, if the girl was raped--and we have no reason to doubt her story and the medical workups--maybe the national fraternity should be sued along with the boys. Throw the school in too and the pot sweetens considerably."

  "Okay, now I'm getting it. I'm slow tonight."

  "No, you're not slow. You're just not a lawyer. You and I think differently."

  "Understatement of the century."

  "Well..."

  "Billy going with?"

  "Of course. I can't exist without Billy."

  "Good. You need some muscl
e, he's your man."

  "Agreed, but I won't be needing muscle. This sounds like a case with whodunnit overtones. That's all it is."

  He nodded and took a guzzle of beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  "So tell me about the incident. Was it a fraternity party?"

  "I don't know, Sonny. There's lots more. I don't know it all. But I'm a very willing student." She laughed. "You've got to give me that."

  "Done. You got that. I can't think of anyone more willing to learn than you. One of the things that makes me wild about you."

  She sat back from the table and blinked hard. "That's always nice to hear."

  "But you'd like to hear it more from me."

  "Hold on. I didn't say that."

  "But you've said it before. And you're right. I don't tell you enough how impressed I am with you. Go to Russia, survive a Russian prison, sue the president of Russian, win millions of dollars, pay your way through law school. Lady, I'm duly impressed."

  She smiled and looked away. "Don't embarrass me. Anyone would take advantage of the opportunities I've been handed. That's all it is."

  "Yes, maybe they would. But you actually did it and I'm proud of you."

  She held up her right hand, missing her forefinger and ring finger. "All it cost me was these."

  He shook his head. A sad expression came into his eyes. "That's right. That and--"

  "And it cost me a hysterectomy. Other than all that, I came out smelling like a rose."

  "Hey, you were hurt bad. I'll be the last one to ever forget. Or forgive them. So you go ahead and do what you need to do up in Alaska. I'll stay here and take care of our youngest and do my spreadsheets."

  "What do you have planned with Janny?"

  "Chuck E. Cheese is all she cares about."

  "That's a winner. Okay, we've got her weekend figured out."

  "I'll take her someplace neat. Maybe the Shedd Aquarium. Maybe the zoo."

  "You're a great dad."

  "Deal. Now, do we have time to race upstairs and address my sex-o-rama before you fly off?"

  "Not with Jamie lurking around. Don't even go there."

  She was being funny, but still she felt a thrill in her body that was very receptive to his suggestion. She loved her guy, loved his arms and back, loved touching them while he was atop her and making his own special kind of love. And she would miss that. Well, she thought, there's always Sunday night. Note to self: be home early enough on Sunday to spend an hour alone with Sonny.