Classified As Murder

I could think of several names I’d like to call the woman, to her face, but I kept them to myself. “Was that when you decided to quit?”

Sean had learned a hard lesson, and he would feel the scars for a long time.

“No, I was mad as a hornet. At her, at myself. I couldn’t let go of it, though. I guess I was so tired—I was still putting in long hours every week—I wasn’t really thinking clearly about what I was doing.” He laughed bitterly. “Then I decided to get even with her.”

“What did you do?” Sean was mischievous growing up. His pranks were never malicious, but I thought he had outgrown them.

“The firm had a party for Lorelei’s birthday three weeks ago, and I wrapped up a special present for her. No name on it, of course, and I was there, along with a lot of other people, to watch her open it.” He grinned. “It was full of self-help books for people addicted to sex. You should have seen her face when she pulled the first one out. She couldn’t stuff it back in the box fast enough.”

I had to laugh. It did sound like poetic justice of a sort. “Did she know who it was from?”

“Probably. Of course, there were several candidates in the room, not just me.” Sean’s wry tone didn’t quite mask the hurt he obviously still felt.

“Were there any repercussions from your little gift?”

“A couple of sternly worded memos from the managing partner’s office, distributed to everyone. And a few surreptitious pats on the back from members of the club.” Sean smiled briefly. “Of course I said it wasn’t me, but I realized that the identities of Lorelei’s string of patsies were pretty well known. I was the last to know, stupid me.

“That’s when I decided to quit. I was sick of the long hours, sick of the whole firm, and basically sick of myself. I resigned, and that was it.”

He glanced at me with one eyebrow raised. “By the way, if anybody asks, you’re going senile.”

“I see. So your poor doddering old father was your reason for quitting. You had to come home and take care of me.” I tried not to laugh.

“Something like that,” Sean murmured. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” Sean said, looking away. “Screwing up my life like that, doing something so stupid.”

“I’m not disappointed in you, Sean.” I paused a moment. “You made a bad decision when you let yourself get involved with your boss. But she’s as much to blame as you are. She abused her position, even if you were a willing participant.”

“Yes, sir,” Sean said. “That’s one mistake I won’t make again.”

Dante scratched on the screen door, and Sean let him back in. The poodle danced around Sean’s feet for a moment; then he spotted Diesel, still on the sofa. He jumped up beside the cat and lay down next to him, his head on his front paws. Diesel lifted his head for a moment, eyed the dog, then put his head back down and closed his eyes.

“They’re best pals now.” Sean resumed his seat.

“Diesel is very easygoing, thank goodness.” I leaned back in my chair. “I’m glad you finally told me what happened.”

“Me, too,” Sean said. He hesitated a moment. “I still want to be a lawyer, only not a corporate one. I don’t want to go back to that.”

“You don’t have to,” I said. “Would you like to practice in Mississippi? You could take the state bar exam.”

“Yes, I’d like to do that. If you can put up with me and Dante that long. I think I’m stuck with him now.” He glanced away for a moment, and I had a sudden feeling I knew who Dante had belonged to.

“He was Lorelei’s dog, wasn’t he?”

Sean nodded. “I gave him to her for Christmas, but when she found out I got him from a shelter, she wouldn’t keep him. So I took him.”

“Another reason to dislike her.” I had no use for people who treated animals that way. Dante was far better off with Sean—and me and Diesel, of course.

Sean wore a pained look. “Lorelei called tonight to tell me I could have my job back if I wanted it.” He snorted in disgust. “What she meant was, if I groveled enough in front of her. She loves her power trips, and she knew I’d really be beholden to her if I went back. There’s no telling what I’d have been in for.”

“Then you’re definitely better off here.” I laughed. “You can look after your senile father, for one thing.”

Sean laughed too, a beautiful sound. We stayed there, the four of us, for a while longer in companionable silence. Diesel and Dante slept, while my son and I gazed out into the night.

THIRTY

When my alarm sounded the next morning at seven, I woke with a lighter heart but a heavy head. I wasn’t used to staying up past ten o’clock, and I hadn’t made it into bed until almost one. Even then I had trouble getting to sleep because my mind bounced back and forth between the talk with Sean and the news of Eloise Morris’s death.

The fact that Sean finally confided in me relieved me of one burden. Our relationship was stronger than it had been in several years. Now that I understood the effects of my own behavior upon my son, I could work to repair the damage.