“But we can’t afford to,” Jack said, as he got to his feet.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
“We’re going to my office.”
She remained seated, looking up at him. “Why are we doing that?”
“Because my computer is already programmed with what we’re going to need to do a quick review of these prospective jurors.”
“You could call me later and let me know what you’ve found.”
Yes, Jack supposed he could. But he’d already decided he wanted her sitting beside him while he discovered those answers and developed the jury questionnaire. This was his case as much as hers. He needed her help if they were both to be successful.
“If you want a set of questions by tomorrow, we have to work together,” Jack said. “Unless you’re looking for an excuse to skip apartment hunting tonight?”
“I can’t skip apartment hunting.”
“Then let’s get going. My schedule’s free. I’m prepared to stay with the task until it’s done.”
“I won’t be able to stay past five today,” she said, not looking especially happy about the fact.
“When do you and Mel have to move out of your mother’s place?”
“Soon.”
And that was obviously all she was going to say about that. “If you only have until five,” he said, “we’d better get started.”
She glanced at her watch. “I have to pick up Mel from school in about thirty minutes.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s a genius like Mel doing in summer school?”
“She’s in a special curriculum for gifted youngsters. A former NASA scientist is here this week showing some incredible shots taken by the Hubble telescope, which is why I’ve been driving her to attend his lectures.”
As Jack had suspected, her daughter was the one subject Diana didn’t hesitate to discuss. That proud parent syndrome at work. He filed the mental note away for possible future use.
“How does she normally attend class?” he asked.
“Online. The Internet is far more efficient because taking classes by e-mail allows her to progress at her own pace. She’ll be back to accessing all of her course work online next week, thus ending my chauffeuring duties.”
“So this is the only week she has a chance to interact with her peers.”
“The term peer is difficult to define with Mel. The student closest in chronological age to her in this astronomy class is fourteen.”
“Does she ever mix with other nine-year-olds?”
“I’ve put her in several classes with children her own age. She warned me if I ever tried to do it again, she’d report me for child abuse.”
Jack smiled.
“There are five other gifted children in the area,” Diana said. “Mel seems to feel most comfortable around them, despite their different talents, ages and academic advancement. The leader of the gifted children’s program has them performing in a play together in a few weeks so they can interact with one another as children for a change.”
“What kind of play?” Jack asked.
“A murder mystery Mel wrote.”
“Is Mel the heroine or villain?”
“They drew names out of a hat to decide which role they’d play. Mel got the name of the victim.”
“I doubt that’s going over well.”
Diana’s smile told Jack his comment was on target. She had a really good smile. His reaction to it must have shown on his face because he saw the resulting withdrawal on hers.
“I have to drop some books by the jail for Connie to read before driving Mel home,” she said, deftly changing the subject.
Jack glanced at his watch, doing the math. That would give him time to talk to Richard. “Then I’ll expect you in my office in ninety minutes.”
Before she could think up an excuse why she couldn’t, he was out the door.
“DIANA?” Gail’s voice called from behind her.
Diana halted on her way to the back door and turned to see her friend exiting her office. “How did your case go yesterday?” Diana asked.
“Acquitted, all counts,” Gail said, smiling.
“Great going. That’s five wins in a row. Not that I’m surprised. Your defendants had the superior counsel.”
“The prosecutor’s case was flimsy and poorly presented,” Gail said. “If I know Staker, he’ll can that incompetent soon. The dunce actually looked shocked to lose.”
Diana wasn’t fooled. Gail was being modest.
Her friend moved closer as she lowered her voice. “Speaking of surprises, I thought you were going to fill me in on the Pearce case?”
“I came by yesterday afternoon but you were in court,” Diana said. “What about over lunch in my office tomorrow? No, wait. Scratch that. I’ll be in a meeting with Staker. I might not get back in time.”
“How about now?” Gail suggested.
Diana shook her head. “I’ve got to run, and I’m tied up the rest of the day. Thursday I have to interview a witness on the Pearce case. Friday?”
“Friday?” Gail repeated, frowning. “No, I have something personal to attend to on Friday. How about we grab dinner after work today?”
“Mel and I will be out apartment hunting.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.”
“How’s lunch on Monday?”
“Guess Monday will have to do, but if you’re deliberately postponing this to increase the suspense, I think you should know it’s working.”
Diana smiled as she waved goodbye and headed for the door.
As she darted to her car through a light drizzle, she wished she did have time to talk to Gail about the questions she should be asking the prospective jurors. She consoled herself with the fact that she’d have Jack to exchange ideas with. So far everything he’d suggested they do had been both logical and intelligent.
Developing the questions for the prospective jurors together was a more efficient use of their time, which was why she hadn’t fought the suggestion. She had to have her evening free for the dreaded apartment hunting. The night before had been a bust because she and Mel had started too late. Landlords did not like being torn away from their suppers and TV programs to show their properties.
But Diana also knew that aside from the fact that working together was a good idea, she was looking forward to being with Jack. Not because he’d flirted with her. But because he’d immediately stopped.
For a natural charmer like Jack, flirting was probably as ingrained and effortless as breathing. That he had caught himself and was making a conscious effort not to come on to her meant a lot to Diana.
He was treating her like a professional. As far as Diana was concerned, that was the highest compliment a man could pay her.
A good-looking man could turn her head. A smart man could earn her respect. But it was always the considerate man whose company she’d choose.
“YOU SELL YOUR HOUSE YET?” Jack asked his brother as he sat in the chair in front of Richard’s desk.
Richard studied him with the same probing stare that their father possessed. The rest of the Knight brothers had tried their hands at other jobs. Richard hadn’t needed to. He knew he was a born private investigator.
“Since when did your taste in women change?” Richard asked.
“What makes you think it has?”
“Hell would freeze over before you’d give up your perfect bachelor pad. Your buddies are kindred souls. None of the sophisticated, fast-track females you keep company with would be interested in a small home away from the night life. So who’s your new female friend?”
Richard was good all right.
“Diana Mason’s mother is getting married,” Jack explained. “New hubby’s moving in, and Diana and her daughter are looking for a house. They currently live in the country so they’re probably used to being awakened by noisy birds instead of noisy neighbors. Chances are good that they’d go for your place.”
Richard sat up straight. “Di
ana told you she was interested in buying?”
“I was thinking you might offer them a lease option for six months, maybe a year.”
Richard shook his head, his initial interest fading fast. “A clean sale, okay. But I’m not interested in becoming her landlord. She’s a valued client of this firm. Better for all concerned not to complicate matters.”
Jack wasn’t daunted. Convincing Richard of something was never easy. “How long has the house been on the market now, a year?”
“Eleven months.”
“Have you had an offer?”
Richard shifted in his chair. “The real estate agent tells me finding the right buyer takes time.”
Jack shook his head. “You could be sixty before the right buyer comes along for that place. Diana and her kid can’t find a house. You want them to end up in some dump of an apartment in town?”
“Her personal life is not our concern. Besides, not every apartment in town is a dump. Or have you forgotten I live in one?”
“The image of your place was what brought the dump description to mind,” Jack said, big grin on his face.
Jack was trying to get Richard to lighten up and see the opportunity. His brother was never going to sell his small, ridiculously decorated home in the hills. Not unless the Munchkins decided to relocate to Silver Valley.
“Have you talked to her about this?” Richard asked after a moment.
“Of course not,” Jack said as though the thought would never have entered his mind. Naturally, telling her about Richard’s place had been his first inclination. But after some consideration, he knew that this way had more chance of success.
“I wanted to check with you first to make sure you were comfortable with the idea.”
Richard rubbed the back of his neck. Jack recognized the unconscious mannerism. His brother was letting himself think about the possibilities. What he needed now was a little nudge.
“The real estate agent could handle the lease option contract, security deposit, collection of the monthly payments,” Jack said. “You wouldn’t have to be personally involved. You don’t even have to tell her you own the place.”
Richard’s neck rub became more vigorous. “Let me think it over.”
Jack got up to leave. He’d made a good case, but like any expert salesman, he was ready with his closing line.
“What’s to think over? You’d be doing Diana and her daughter a good turn and getting some money to cover your expenses on that place. No way you can lose.”
When Jack reached the door, he turned back to his brother. “Diana will be working with me in my office today should you decide to tell her about the house.”
“You invited her here?” Richard asked.
“Best place for us to work.”
“Inviting clients to work in our offices isn’t protocol, Jack. Part of keeping their cases confidential is keeping them out of here so other clients don’t see them. And vice versa.”
How like Richard to spout all the time-honored rules that the ingrained private investigator in him lived by so assiduously. Those rules might fit Richard. But they were way too tight for Jack.
“Couldn’t be helped,” Jack said. “I need to use my computer programs to generate a jury questionnaire. Be a lot easier for me to follow up on these people later if I have everything in my database.”
“Couldn’t you have accomplished the same thing by e-mail? Or taken a laptop to her office?”
“We’re under a tight time constraint. Besides, my office is a lot more comfortable than hers and affords us uninterrupted privacy. I can have food sent in and there’s even a couch to stretch out on.”
Richard squinted at his brother ever so slightly. His tone remained even, but the delivery of his warning was no less emphatic. “Please, be careful.”
Jack was pretty sure he knew what Richard meant, but he wanted to see if his brother had the balls to say it. “Careful about what?”
“Not to step over the line with Diana.”
Yep, he did. Jack almost laughed. Here he was thirty-three and his big brother still thought he had the right to warn him off inappropriate women. That was really funny, considering Richard’s mistakes with women.
But what the hell. Jack was easygoing enough not to take offense.
“Relax, Richard. I don’t date women with kids even if they’re interested, and Diana is definitely not interested.”
The suspicion in Richard’s tone rose a notch. “How did you learn she wasn’t?”
Some guys might have been tempted to aim for a brother’s chin after being challenged like this. But Jack had learned long ago that humor packed more punch than a fist ever could.
“A woman lets a man know when she’s interested,” Jack said. “Don’t tell me you’ve been out of the game so long that you’ve forgotten how it’s played?”
Richard shook his head in good-natured defeat.
“The lady’s in distress,” Jack said, keeping his tone light. “You going to ride in on your white steed carrying a six-month lease and save the day like a real knight or leave her and her innocent child to the nefarious rent hikes of a landlord with larceny in his heart?”
Richard chortled. “Damn good thing they insisted you only read the lines and not write them.”
“Everybody’s a critic. Come on, Richard, be a hero. Beats being a villain any day.”
Jack flashed his brother a brilliant smile before leaving his office.
CHAPTER FIVE
AS OFTEN AS DIANA HAD employed White Knight Investigations, she had never been inside their offices. The sign outside the building read, When You Need Help, Call On A White Knight.
She took the elevator to the top floor and followed an arrow that led to reception. The furniture was a tasteful light-oak, the carpet a soft gold, the paintings peaceful landscapes. The view outside the panoramic windows of the busy wet city below was positively energizing.
When she approached the desk, the receptionist stood as though at attention.
“Good morning, I’m Harry Gorman. How may I help you?”
Harry’s clipped speech and crisp movements put Diana in mind of a drill sergeant ready to whip some new military recruit into shape. She had spoken to him on the phone many times. Now she had an image to go along with the voice.
“I’m Diana Mason, Harry. Good to finally meet you in person.”
Harry executed a quick head bow in her direction. “Likewise, ma’am. Mr. Jack Knight is expecting you.”
Harry depressed an intercom key, told Jack that she had arrived and proceeded to lead her down the hall to his office. Harry knocked once, opened the door for her, stepped aside so she could enter and then closed the door behind her.
The office was spacious, full of deep blues lightened by touches of silver. The pictures on the wall were modern art splashes in the same hues. The couch in the corner had clean lines and was man-size, the desk an enormous expanse of stainless steel with a large, flat-screen computer monitor in the center.
Jack’s suit coat was off and his sleeves were rolled up. He was in the process of moving a cushioned guest chair next to his. “You’ll be able to see the computer monitor better from here. Sit down and I’ll show you what I have so far.”
Radiating an infectious energy, he retook his seat and started to punch keys. Diana set down her briefcase and bag before slipping onto the comfortable cushioned seat.
As she leaned toward the screen, the first thing she noticed was that Jack smelled good, a combination of clean male skin mixed with sandalwood. With more effort than should have been necessary, she switched her focus to the blinking cursor.
“These are the hundred and fifty prospective jurors’ names, listed alphabetically,” Jack said as he scrolled down.
“You’ve already entered all of those names into your computer,” she said with a note of surprise in her voice. He had left her office ninety minutes before.
“Harry and I worked on them together,” Jack explained. “We
’ve also entered in the other information from their questionnaires. The addresses were helpful in giving me a general idea about them.”
“How do you mean?”
Jack faced her. “Market research groups learned long ago that people who share the same socioeconomic background and similar lifestyles tend to live near one another. A kind of birds-of-a-feather-syndrome. Market research groups have classified neighborhoods based on this principle.”
“I’d be interested in seeing an example.”
“Coming up,” he said as he looked at the monitor once more. “Let’s take Ross Abbott, prospective juror number one. His address tells me he lives in a neighborhood that has been labeled by market research as Silver Power.”
Jack explained that people in this neighborhood had been identified as affluent retirees over the age of fifty-five. They were most likely to be married, have a safe deposit box, take a cruise vacation, own two late-model cars, be a member of AARP, disapprove of graphic violence in any medium, be disappointed in the current education system and vote in favor of any proposition that promised to lower property taxes.
“Where did the market research groups get all that information?” she asked.
“Census data, real estate data, insurance underwriters, credit reports, consumer surveys. Advertisers know more about us than the FBI ever will. Every time you buy something, someone’s database records the sale. Every time you use the Internet, the Web sites you’re accessing are tracked.”
“Big Brother is watching,” Diana said. “Only George Orwell got it wrong. Big Brother isn’t the intrusive bureaucratized state. He’s an advertiser.”
“They’ve studied the makeup of most neighborhoods in the U.S. in order to know who to target their products to.”
“Do another one,” she suggested.
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