And Justice for Some

by Joanne Sydney Lessner

  “You’d think.” Jack took a sip of Harpoon. “Sorry, I don’t know any more than you do. But if you want to give me the check, I can try and get it to him.”

  Although that had been Isobel’s plan, she found herself hesitating. “That would be great, but I don’t have it on me.”

  “No problem. You have my email. Just shoot me a note and we can meet up.”

  “Or you could send me Andrew’s address, and I can mail it.”

  Jack shrugged. “Whatever you want. Up to you.”

  There was an awkward silence, broken finally by Lily. “You guys really have a good sound.” She smiled shyly at Jack. “Though I have to admit, tenor sax is my favorite. Do you play tenor?”

  Jack shook his head. “I mean, I can, but I pretty much only play alto. A lot of jazz players specialize in one horn. You know we call them horns.”

  “I thought it was your axe,” Lily said.

  Isobel rolled her eyes at Delphi. The only thing worse than Lily showing up with her brother was watching her flirt with someone else right in front of him. But when Isobel glanced at Percival, he seemed more amused than anything.

  “That too,” Jack said, laughing. He slapped Hugh on the back. “My man Hugh is the real deal, isn’t he? To Hugh!”

  He raised his beer, and they all clinked and drank.

  “Ow!” Isobel shook her leg, which both Delphi and Percival had kicked under the table from different angles. She gave Hugh’s arm a squeeze. “You really were wonderful. Though I’m not surprised. I think you can play anything.”

  Hugh beamed at her. Lily smirked.

  Jack set down his empty bottle. “Time for another set, eh, man?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “So are you going to tell me about this murder mystery you’re all talking about?” Lily asked after Hugh and Jack had returned to the tiny makeshift stage.

  Before Isobel could respond, Percival said pointedly, “Delphi and Isobel were hired to do a murder mystery dinner show that Jack played for. That’s all.”

  Lily cast a doubtful look around the table. “Why don’t I believe you?” She pouted and stood up. “Bathroom. Anyone want to make up the pair?”

  When neither Delphi nor Isobel responded, she retreated in a huff. Isobel wheeled on her brother.

  “Really?”

  “We’re just friends. And what the hell happened between you two? What was this meeting on the street?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s an annoying little gadfly.”

  Percival pushed his glasses up his nose, his habit when agitated. “You don’t know her. She’s had a rough time. She needs friends.”

  “She has James,” Isobel snapped. “You’re poaching his girlfriend.”

  “She’s not James’s girlfriend, as far as I know. And she’s not mine either.”

  “Will you two cut it out?” Delphi said. “Here I thought you two were the loviest, best-adjusted siblings since Full House. But whaddaya know? You’re just like the rest of us. Although this doesn’t even come close to the shit-slinging that goes on with my sisters.”

  That stung. Isobel prided herself on an exceptionally close relationship with her brother, despite their almost eight-year age difference. Percival caught her eye, and she knew he was feeling the same. Lily had driven a wedge between her and James, and Isobel wasn’t about to let that upstart ragamuffin do the same with her brother. She glanced toward the bathroom and saw Lily tapping her foot impatiently, waiting her turn. Isobel decided it was safe to change the subject.

  “Perce, remember I told you that Judge Harrison was cheating and that’s what prompted the divorce?”

  Percival nodded, grateful for the olive branch, and Isobel told him about the photo in Candy’s file.

  “So Jemma knew the judge, she knew the cue for the gunshot, and she could easily have snuck back into the Jewel Room to kill him,” she finished.

  “Definitely possible. Motive?” Percival asked.

  “Aye, there’s the rub,” Delphi said.

  Isobel sighed. “To be determined. Same goes for Andrew. But maybe I can get something out of Jack.”

  “There’s still the weirdness of Peter covering for Andrew, not to mention Peter himself,” Delphi said. “And don’t forget Tony.”

  The band launched into “A Night in Tunisia.” Isobel shouted over the music. “What do we have on Tony?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me,” Delphi hollered back. “But considering we’ve got something on every other member of our merry band, don’t you think there must be something on him, too?”

  SEVENTEEN

  It wasn’t exactly the freshman fifteen, more like the sophomore five, but James was unhappy with the weight he’d put on. He wasn’t eating more, but he was eating more on the fly, which meant junkier food. And if he was being really honest with himself, he could date his weight gain to almost a year ago when he’d broken up with his girlfriend, Jayla. She wasn’t the greatest cook, but at least she’d tried to prepare healthy meals.

  Or, James mused, as he pulled hard on his weights, maybe that’s why her food tasted so nasty. Regardless, he ate less when Jayla was cooking.

  He also wasn’t going to the gym nearly as often as he wanted to, which was why he’d decided to get up early and get in a workout before class. Jayla’s wedding was tomorrow, and he was damned if he was going to show up looking anything less than his best. He grunted as he extended the pulley down in front of himself again and turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of his arms in the mirror. His bi- and triceps were pretty well molded. He needed to cut himself a little slack as he adjusted to student life again. Perfection was a siren call he was still learning to ignore.

  “Admiring the view?”

  He had been so focused on his upper arms that he hadn’t noticed Lily’s appearance in the mirror behind him. As he registered her, he released his weights. They hit the metal joist at the top of the pulley with a clang that was only slightly more jarring than the sight of the shadow he thought he’d successfully shaken.

  “Just checking my form,” he said, wiping his brow with the crimson towel draped around his neck.

  “I don’t mean to bother you,” Lily began.

  “That’s a refreshing change,” he retorted.

  “Could you stop being a dick for two minutes? I have to tell you something.”

  “Yeah?” He crossed the room to the barbells. She followed like a dutiful puppy, as he knew she would.

  “I saw Isobel and Hugh last night. They were together. Like together together.”

  “So what?”

  James threw his towel on a bench and examined the weights, but he couldn’t focus on their numbers long enough to choose his starting load.

  “Don’t you want to know how I happened to be with them?” she asked.

  “What do you mean ‘be with them’? I thought you saw them.”

  She moved in front of him, blocking the barbells. “That’s why it pays to listen. So I’m friends with this freshman named Percival—”

  “Isobel’s brother?”

  “Yeah. Not too many people around named Percival, I guess. Anyway, he invited me to go hear some jazz with his sister, and Hugh was playing with the band.”

  “I don’t see what this has to do with me,” James said, grabbing a pair of twenty-pound barbells, far lighter than what he normally used. “Unless you want to warn me off because you’re dating Percival.”

  “I told you, we’re friends,” she said, giving him an odd look.

  “Because I can kind of see you two together. Scrawny, brainy—”

  “James! I have a reason for telling you this.”

  He set the weights on the bench and folded his arms. “Then get to the point.”

  Lily sighed. “Isobel was flirting with this other guy, Jack. She seemed more interested in him than Hugh, and Hugh was kind of resigned to it.”

  “So…what? Are you telling me I should be glad I’m rid of her?”

  L
ily had the decency to blush. “Something like that. And also, she seemed really annoyed to see me.”

  “She and I have a lot in common.”

  Lily ignored him. “I think it was because I was with Percival. You know how she thought there was something going on between us? I think she was being kind of protective and didn’t want me cheating on you with her brother.”

  James threw his head back in frustration. “You said you and Percival are just friends. And you and I are just—”

  “Friends?” Lily’s face lit up.

  “Talking! No, stopping talking, because I’m going back to my workout, and you’re going back to yours.”

  He bent down and grabbed the weights with more force than necessary, and he lost his balance, stumbling backward into the bench.

  “Whatever. Over and out.” Lily saluted with her fingers in a peace sign and stalked off toward the stationary bikes.

  James closed his eyes, and counted to ten. When he could breathe more easily again, he fastened his weights to the bar, lay down, and hefted it over his chest. He was glad he’d taken a lighter load than usual. He didn’t want to count; he didn’t want to think. He just wanted to look busy so Lily wouldn’t know she’d gotten to him.

  Isobel had moved on. That wasn’t really news. But he was surprised to hear that she was flirting with someone else in front of Hugh.

  I’ve moved on, too, thought James, thrusting the barbell in the air again.

  Except that he hadn’t, really. After he broke up with Jayla, he convinced himself that he didn’t want to date anybody, that he needed to be alone for a while to figure out who James Cooke was sober. But then he’d kissed Isobel. It had been pure impulse—his body leading him before his brain could object—and then he found out about Hugh. He’d opened the door the tiniest crack, only to have it slam shut with full force right in his face.

  He realized his arms were aching. He must have done thirty presses. He rested the barbell on his chest and gazed at the ceiling. A thought was forming in his mind. An absolutely ridiculous thought, but one that would serve his purposes nicely—and serve all the irritating women in his life right.

  He pulled himself off the bench, set down the weights, and surveyed the room. Lily was on an upright stationary bike, her earbuds in, bopping to a private beat.

  Well, he thought, turnabout is fair play.

  He crossed the room and stood in front of her, his hands on her handlebars. She looked up, surprised, then shook her head, refusing to be interrupted. He was ready for that and plucked out one of her earbuds.

  “Hey!”

  “Sucks to have your workout interrupted, doesn’t it?” he said, but he was grinning.

  He could tell he’d thrown her, but she kept the pedals whirring. It irked him that she was able to continue exercising while he distracted her.

  “Here’s the deal. I’ve got this wedding to go to tomorrow night, and…” He paused, not wanting to sound too pathetic. “My date is sick. You wanna come with me?”

  That stopped her. She stood up in the seat, balancing herself in the stirrups as the wheels rolled to a stop. “You’re messing with me, right?”

  “No, I’m serious.”

  She shook her head in astonishment. “A minute ago, we weren’t even friends. We were only stopping talking. Now you’re asking me on a date?”

  “It’s not a date any more than going to hear jazz with Percival.”

  She stared at him. “It’s a wedding. Everyone knows that whoever you bring to a wedding is significant.”

  Of course, she was right. He’d responded “and guest” automatically, although he’d done nothing about acquiring one. But he really didn’t want to show up alone. He had caught Jayla sharing a close encounter on the kitchen counter with his best friend, Michael, and now they were getting married. But James knew Jayla would throw over two hundred guests and Michael in a heartbeat if she thought she could have him back. Bringing a date would ensure no dramatic weirdness at the altar. And if he brought Lily, she would tell Percival, and it would get back to Isobel. Then Isobel would think he’d moved on—and with Lily, whom he knew she couldn’t stand.

  “Significance is in the eye of the beholder,” he said. “Sorry I was being a dick before. We are friends.” It was important that Lily understand the ground rules. “I just think we’d have a good time. So, what do you think?”

  She hesitated. “Is it black tie?”

  James knew Lily came from a poor family and was attending Barnard on scholarship. The other women were likely to be dressed to the nines. He hedged.

  “Festive dress. I’m sure you can throw something together.”

  She regarded him shrewdly. “Does this have anything to do with what I told you about Isobel?”

  “Kind of,” he admitted. “I realize now that I’m totally done with her. So it’s time to make some new female friends.”

  “You’re totally done with her?” Lily asked.

  James nodded. “Totally.”

  Lily smiled. “Then I’ll totally go with you.”

  EIGHTEEN

  As soon as Isobel got to the office the next morning, she checked her email drafts folder. Sure enough, the note she’d started to Jack was still sitting there. She opened it, revised it to reflect their conversation from the night before, and hit send before she could get distracted and forget again. Then she sat back, glowered at the screen, and reminded herself that she was displeased with almost every single person in her life.

  How could Percival even be friends with Lily? She was so pushy and needy and in your face. When Isobel had filled Delphi in about the night they’d first met, Delphi had made the intolerable suggestion that the reason Isobel found Lily so irritating was that they shared some of the same qualities. And Hugh…Hugh should have been annoyed with her for ignoring him and interrogating Jack on their break. But as soon as she’d complimented Hugh on his playing, he became just as lovey-dovey as ever, which, in her black mood, she’d found cloying.

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax. There was no getting around it: if her current discomfort with others had a common thread, she was it. She was being unreasonable, she was the problem, and she needed to get over herself. Strangely, this made her suddenly miss James, who could always be depended on for a bracing dose of reality. But she knew if James were around, she’d be just as peeved at him, if not more so, precisely because he never hesitated to call attention to her failings.

  The other thing bothering her, she realized with a flash of insight, was that she hadn’t been to an audition since that disastrous City of Angels call. If it was true that you were only as good as your last performance, then she was dreadful. If she were focusing on her career like she should be, these silly little personal things wouldn’t be gnawing at her. That was what she needed: a chance to redeem herself from that awful audition and remind herself what was important. Maybe she’d be less impatient with everyone else if she were feeling better about herself.

  She pulled up a list of casting notices on the computer and scanned the possibilities. Several auditions looked promising, including one for a musical based on the life of John Philip Sousa that was scheduling appointments rather than holding an open call. She thought back to Hugh’s promise that he would accompany any audition she could schedule in advance, and she forwarded her materials to the casting director with a friendly (but not too friendly) note.

  When she finally came up for air after exhausting every ad for non-union musicals, plays, and even student films, she realized it was almost eleven and there was still no sign of Sarah. She opened the link to Sarah’s calendar on her computer to see whether she was in court, but there was nothing listed. She did have a phone call scheduled for two o’clock with Candy Harrison, presumably to discuss the will. Isobel rose, stretched her legs, and wandered into the kitchen for some ice water. She chatted for a bit with one of the other assistants, but when she returned, Sarah still had not appeared. Isobel set down her water and dialed S
arah’s cell phone, which went to voice mail after four rings.

  “Hey, it’s Isobel. Just wondering where you are. You have a call with Candy at two today, in case you forgot. Okay, just checking in.”

  She frowned at the receiver. Probably Sarah had some last-minute appointment and had forgotten to note it on her calendar. But as one o’clock approached, Isobel began to feel distinctly uneasy. Shortly before two, Isobel tried Sarah’s cell phone again. Still no answer.

  “It’s Isobel again. Just reminding you about your two o’clock call and wondering whether you’re coming in or handling remotely. Okay, you know where I am. Call me.” She left her cubicle, pausing outside the office of a lawyer named David, who occasionally covered for Sarah and vice versa. She rapped lightly on the door.

  “Come in.”

  “Oh, hi. I’m Isobel. I work with Sarah,” she said.

  “Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”

  Isobel cleared her throat. “I’m probably being a nervous Nellie, but Sarah hasn’t been in all day, and there’s nothing on her calendar except a call that’s coming up in a few minutes. I haven’t been able to raise her on her cell, and it’s not like her to not check in.”

  David’s brow furrowed. “No, it isn’t.”

  “Did she mention anything to you about where she was going today?”

  “She didn’t. I agree with you. It is a little strange.”

  “That’s what I thought,” said Isobel, feeling simultaneously relieved to have her paranoia validated and afraid that something was seriously amiss.

  “If you do hear from her, could you let me know?” she asked.

  “Of course. And will you do the same?”

  On the way back to her desk, she heard Sarah’s line ringing. She dashed back and snatched it up, hoping it was Sarah.

  “Sarah Hollister’s office. This is Isobel.”

  “It’s Candy Harrison for Sarah. Is she there, please?”

  Isobel glanced at her computer clock. Candy was two minutes early.