It Should Be a Crime (6 page)

“Hey, Casey, are you still hungover?” Erin had made the mistake yesterday of beating on Parker’s door early in the morning in an attempt to rouse her for a morning run. This morning Erin was up early again, coffee in one hand, newspaper in the other.

“Why do you want to know? Have plans to run a marathon and need a companion?”

“A few miles are all I had planned. You act like I tried to get you to do an Ironman. Jeez, you’re still pretty grouchy. Maybe you should head back to bed and skip the first day.”

“Where’s Kelsey?”

“Long gone. She’s started a forty-eight-hour shift last night. Whatcha need?”

“I want medical advice or maybe a quickie surgery. Look at these bags under my eyes. I feel okay, but I look like shit.”

“Vanity, vanity. What if I told you I had something to fix you right up?”

Parker grabbed Erin’s arm and jokingly twisted it behind her back. “I’d say give it to me now.”

Erin slapped at Parker with her free hand, playing along. “Let me go, fool, and I’ll help you out. You’ve got to cheer up, though. This is the first day of your last year. You should be happy as a clam.”

Parker pointed at her face. “Eyes, Erin. I need you to focus on fixing me up, and then I’ll be cheerful.”

Parker followed Erin to her room and lay on the bed as Erin directed. As Erin fumbled through the drawers in her bathroom, she called out, “If having your way with me is a cure, I want you to know you don’t need any accessories. Get in here and cure away.” Parker was joking. Erin was engaged to a fellow grad student and they were madly in love.

Erin emerged from the bathroom with a frosted glass jar. “You wish, Casey. Though I’m sure Bob would love it if I brought home tales of how I ravaged you while you lay helpless on my bed, I have better things to do. Now, close your eyes and lay back.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“Who’s the one with the puffy eyes and no cure?”

Parker lay still while Erin applied moist cotton discs to her eyelids. “What are those? They smell nice.”

“Cucumber eye pads. They’re great, even better if they’ve been in the fridge, but you’ll have to make do. Keep your eyes closed for fifteen minutes, and then you can get up and throw the pads away. You should look much better.”

“Thanks, Erin.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Erin sat on the edge of the bed and shook the newspaper in Parker’s direction. “Did you hear about Camille Burke?”

The name sounded familiar to Parker, but she couldn’t quite place it. “Not sure I know who you’re talking about.”

“You know—the Highland Park Burkes. Camille is Lester Burke’s daughter.” Erin waited till Parker nodded in recognition. “Camille was murdered Friday night at the Burke mansion.”

“How did she die? Was it a burglary? Right there in the house?” Parker fired off questions faster than Erin could answer.

“Slow down. I can’t read that fast.” Erin skimmed the paper. “The story’s shy on detail.”

Parker nodded. “Cops are probably holding back a lot of the facts.”

“I knew her,” Erin said quietly.

Parker sat up and pulled the pads off her eyes. “I’m sorry, Erin. Were you close?”

Erin shook her head. “No, not really. At least we haven’t been for a while. We were in a lot of the same classes as undergrads, but lost touch when we started different graduate programs.”

“What was she like?”

“Sweet girl. Quiet. Not what you’d expect coming from a filthy rich family.”

Parker curled Erin into a strong hug. “Funny, no matter how much we think we know, we still have the capacity to be surprised.”

*

Morgan’s first class of the day wasn’t until ten thirty, but she still arrived early to review her lecture notes for Criminal Procedure. In addition to Criminal Procedure, she was teaching an Advanced Evidence practicum this semester. Two classes wasn’t much, but it was what Yolanda was able to conjure up on short notice. The Advanced Evidence course was one not usually offered except when a willing professor stepped up to take it on, and she certainly qualified for the task. The practicum was a hands-on class for third-years, focusing on practical application of the legal skills they had acquired in their Evidence lecture classes. Morgan’s years in the courtroom gave her plenty of footnotes to make the class colorful and interesting.

Satisfied her notes were in order, Morgan wandered from her office in search of the snack bar. The small eating venue hadn’t changed much since she’d been enrolled as a student, with the exception of the addition of a few new vending machines. Steaming cup of coffee in hand, she wandered out into the common area, finding a place to take in the sights. The first-year students all invariably had a look of awe on their faces, as if they couldn’t quite believe they had been welcomed into this elite society yet. Morgan knew it wouldn’t take long before lines of stress would replace the surprised looks, and she didn’t envy them. It was her first day too, but she’d commanded both courtrooms and classrooms before, and her fear was limited to the fact this was her alma mater and she wanted to do it justice.

*

At the far end of the common area, Parker glanced at her watch. She spent the last thirty minutes patiently answering last-minute questions from her mentees, Henry and Nicole, but now it was time for her to head to class. She asked the two if they had anything else they needed.

Henry spoke first. “Nope. By the way, you missed quite a party at the dean’s house Saturday night. The new criminal law professor, Morgan Bradley, was there. Damn, she has some great stories to tell.”

Nicole chimed in. “You’ve probably seen her on Court TV, she does a lot of commentary. She’s one of those perfect people, beautiful, smart, and articulate.” Nicole’s sigh conveyed her own wish to be one of “those” people.

Parker replied, “Bradley? Of course I’ve heard of her, but I’m a third-year, do you think I have time to watch TV? Frankly, your TV watching days are over as well.” Parker stood. “I have to go. Good luck with the rest of your day. Feel free to call me if you need anything.”

Parker strolled across the common area. She needed to make a quick stop at the registrar’s office before heading to her next class.

*

Morgan burned her tongue as the overly large gulp of coffee sizzled its way down her throat. She thought to herself, surely the woman crossing the room wasn’t Parker? The tall, beautiful brunette strolled out of sight before Morgan could be sure, but something about the gait and carriage of the woman caught her eye and held her captive. Morgan noted that she walked with great confidence, as if she owned the place. Surely it wasn’t the bartender from two weeks ago. Though cocky in her own element, she couldn’t have looked similarly comfortable in this institute of higher learning. Shrugging, Morgan rose and walked back to her office to retrieve her lecture notes.

*

Parker reviewed the syllabus from her Advanced Legal Research class in between bites of a grilled cheese sandwich. Most of the semester’s projects called for teamwork, so she’d have to figure out who in the class she wanted to work with. She knew she was often sought after by many of the other students, primarily because of her high class standing. She was on track to graduate magna cum laude, and while she could always be counted on to help her fellow students, she didn’t want to do anything to put her own scores at risk. This research class involved a series of complex research assignments and would be hard enough without the added task of managing group dynamics.

“Hey, Parker, aren’t you signed up for the Evidence practicum?”

Parker looked up at the tall, burly redhead standing over her. Dex Gallagher, another third-year, was one of Parker’s best law school buddies. Dex, like Parker, was singularly focused on criminal law as a future career, but unlike Parker, he planned to start out working as a prosecutor. To further his goal, he had completed internships at both the local county district attorney’s office and the United States Attorney for the Northern District of Texas. Though their end goals were different, their path was the same and the two had become fast friends while enrolled in all the same classes.

“Hey, Dex, I sure am.” Glancing at her watch, Parker realized class would start in a few minutes. “Carry my books to class?”

“Still trying to get me to be your boyfriend after all these years?” Dex winked. “When are you going to realize I only want to be friends?”

The joke was old. The first year in school, Dex had asked Parker out on numerous occasions. Reluctant to share personal details about herself, Parker begged off with her standard excuse. She didn’t want to get involved with anyone at school, too messy, too complicated. When Dex came up with a thousand reasons why it wasn’t, Parker finally told Dex her sexual orientation. Dex had recovered from his unrequited attraction and channeled his passion into a devout friendship. The two had been inseparable study buddies ever since.

They made their way to class and staked claim to adjoining seats near the jury box. The classroom was one of two moot courtrooms at the school. This one was far superior, having been outfitted with cutting-edge courtroom technology. Used primarily by moot court and mock trial teams for practice, it also doubled as a classroom for practical application classes such as the Advanced Evidence class.

Dex leaned over to Parker. “Did you hear who they finally signed to teach this class?”

“No, actually, I went to see the registrar about it this morning, but I didn’t get in due to a long line of first-years stalking her. I was going to tell her I didn’t want to commit when they weren’t even sure they had a permanent instructor. Last I heard, Professor Wilson unexpectedly quit. I don’t need the hours to graduate and I can think of better things to do than take six hours from a fill-in prof.”

“Quit bragging about all your extra hours. Some of us need this class. Besides, you’re going to love the prof they got. Hell, she’s famous.”

Parker raised her eyebrows, waiting for the name.

“Oh, here she is. Better sit up straight and stop talking so you can impress the pretty new teacher.”

Parker turned in her seat, looking in the direction Dex had been focused. Pretty was not an accurate description. Morgan was a knockout. Her wavy auburn hair trailed to her shoulders and her emerald green eyes swept the room in crystal focus. Her height was accentuated by stylish pumps with three-inch heels, and the hemline of her skirt showed off well-toned calves. Her suit was designer with lines both soft and sharp, blending femininity and power in its russet silk threads.

A shove to her side shook Parker from her reverie. Dex leaned close and whispered, “Close your mouth, Casey. You’re starting to drool.”

Parker recovered enough to whisper with jagged breath, “She’s the professor?”

“Yep. Morgan Bradley,” Dex responded, adding, “She’s one of those hotshot attorneys who’s always on Court TV, commenting on cases like Michael Jackson and Enron.”

Dex was still talking, but Parker heard only “Morgan Bradley.” She had certainly heard of Morgan Bradley and her high-profile cases, but she rarely watched television and wasn’t sure she could have picked her out in a crowd. She had no doubt, though—the commanding presence standing a few feet away was the beautiful woman from the alley who had shared her bed for one night and lurked in her thoughts ever since. Confused and feeling strangely vulnerable herself, Parker waved off Dex’s whispered fascination with the new professor and lowered her head. Flipping through pages of her notebook, she studiously avoided looking at the woman holding court at the front of the room. Willing herself to another place, she registered little of the words spoken.

“Since this is a very hands-on class, I want us all to get to know each other. We’ll be working in various combinations of groups throughout the semester. If you haven’t already, you’ll learn what it’s like to work in teams when the stakes are the highest. And I’m not talking about your grades. I’m talking about the life and liberty of the person you’ve been chosen to defend or the right of the individual wronged to see the defendant brought to justice. This class will focus on evidence in criminal cases. If you want to focus on civil litigation or you want an evidence course for your transcript so you can look well-rounded to prospective employers, this is not the course for you. We’ll be doing simulations of real case problems, all of them using real criminal cases as the basis for our studies. If you want a drop slip, see me after class. Now, let’s go around the room and introduce ourselves.”

Dex poked Parker in the side. “Wake up, darling, you’re about to have to state your name, rank, and serial number.”

Parker stole a sidelong glance at Dex, then at the front of the room. Morgan was faced slightly away from her, focusing on the student at the other end of their row to start the introductions. Furtive looks around the room revealed all escape possibilities were blocked by the presence of other students. In mere moments, she’d have to face the woman she’d never expected to see again. The prospect was at once titillating and formidable.

*

Years on the courtroom stage gave Morgan the skill it took to cloak her surprise behind knowing smiles. It happened to every experienced attorney. Days of preparation were rendered useless the moment a witness took the stand and began to spin tales that were made up as they went along. In court, Morgan would have a split second to decide whether to show or hide her surprise at being caught off guard. If she had evidence in reserve she could use to impeach the witness’s credibility, a show of surprise was a great effect: “Really, Mister So-and-So? Are you saying the defendant told you he killed the maid?” She would exaggerate the question, reeling the witness in, getting them to totally commit to their answer all the while waiting to whip out a series of written statements they’d provided to law enforcement stating conclusively the defendant had never confessed. On the other hand, sometimes the witness would pop off with a response she didn’t expect and had no way of disproving. On those occasions she found it was best to hold her surprise in check, never letting the jury know her composure had been seriously knocked down a notch. Glancing down the aisle past the student giving the class his name, Morgan realized she was about to face a situation requiring more composure than she had ever been called upon to use in the courtroom.