Deadly Charade - By Virna Depaul Page 0,3
and Tony was hoping one of those things was the identity of Guapo’s Rapture supplier.
He snapped the phone to his ear. “What is it, Justine?”
“Tony!”
He frowned at the note of hysteria in her voice.
“Guapo won his appeal. He’ll be out on the streets in the next twenty-four hours and he’s going to find out what you’ve been doing. What we’ve been doing. He probably already knows.”
Guapo was getting out of prison? What the hell? Tony’s shaking hands went cold. “Does Nicco know?”
“He’s the one who told me. He’s scared out of his mind. And you know what that means. He’s going to give you up. He’s going to give both of us up.”
“Calm down, Justine. Did you try to get the name of the supplier from Nicco again?”
Justine took an audible breath, then said, “He still says he doesn’t know. That Guapo’s going to take the name to his grave.”
How ironic that the tables had turned. At one time Guapo had been desperate to find out the name of the confidential informant who’d sold him out. Now that same informant was just as desperate to get the name of the man only Guapo seemed to know. Sacramento’s main supplier of Rapture to kids and soccer moms. The man responsible for killing Rory Maverick, Justine’s little brother.
Tony shot another glance at Linda. She was still smiling. The guy beside her reached up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Swiftly Tony looked away.
It didn’t matter. He could still see them together.
He pictured them dancing the way he and Linda had danced. Making love the way he and Linda had made love. Spending their lives together and having a family and building a future together...the way he and Linda never would.
He had no place in her life. Not anymore. Hadn’t he just been telling himself that?
Gritting his teeth, he just managed to hang on to his control.
I can’t lose it. Not now. I have too much to do.
“Tell Nicco to trust me,” Tony told Justine. “And remind him that I’ve been a much more generous boss than Guapo ever was. I’ll be there in five.”
Chapter 2
Two weeks later...
Anyone who had ever witnessed a felony arraignment calendar knew it just didn’t live up to the grandiose images portrayed on TV. Anyone who’d ever worked in criminal law knew it was a crap assignment. But it was a crap assignment everyone did and, judicial campaign or not, Linda Delaney was no exception. To avoid the arraignment calendar in her office, you had to have risen to the rank of senior assistant, at least.
Loaded down with her files, Linda strode toward Courtroom Five, weaving around the throngs of people waiting for court to begin. Most of them were dressed well in hopes of making a good impression on the judge and gaining leniency for themselves or another. Others just looked pissed or hopeless. There were several kids crying or running around, too. She knew most of them, like the fancier clothes people wore, had been brought along in hopes of eliciting sympathy, as well.
And don’t you just sound optimistic about life? one part of her asked.
The other part of her shrugged. The truth was the truth, no matter how unsavory. Didn’t mean she was completely jaded. In fact, her ability to see things for what they were without letting it affect how she treated others would serve her well as a judge. If the citizens of Sacramento County elected her, of course. Although her boss, District Attorney Norman Peterson, believed she was a shoo-in and had finally convinced her to join the judicial race, Linda’s past might be more of a sticking point than he believed.
People often asked Linda how she could do her job, day in and day out, and still maintain some level of optimism about the state of humanity. It wasn’t easy. Felony arraignment calendar was a morning-long runway show of the most desperate, dangerous and sometimes stupidest human beings possible. It was a constant reminder of the frailty of life and how it could be changed forever by a crackhead in need of a fix or a husband enraged by his wife’s relationship with a coworker.
Beatings. Shootings. Robberies. Rapes. Thefts. Gang crimes. Committed every day by everyday people with jobs, friends, families and pets. You learned that the age, gender and the socioeconomic class of victims ran the gamut. No one was safe when it came down to it.
Not Linda’s father. And not even Tony, the sweet-faced man she’d