CUTTING ROOM -THE- by Jilliane Hoffman Page B

used to melt her fucking feet off, or the rope he used to tie her wrists together, there will be nothing I can do about it since it will be too late. Pardon
my
English. So let’s get past the blame game, shall we? And let’s build a case that will send his sorry ass to death row.’ She moved past him and on to the escalator.
    Neither said anything until they were halfway down to the lobby. ‘This is not the best way to start off a relationship,’ he finally remarked.
    â€˜Nope. And neither was you showing up an hour late to my Arthur Hearing and giving me a fucking heart attack.’
    â€˜You gotta get over that.’
    â€˜Oh, and by the way, since we are being honest, you’re going to need a new tie if we do go to trial or have a motion or even walk down the street together — preferably one that does not have miniature Miami Dolphin helmets on it. And you are definitely gonna need a new suit.’
    Manny peered down at his jacket, his brow furrowed. ‘What the fuck? Now I’m hurt.’
    â€˜You shouldn’t be. You should be grateful for my candor. I sent a habitual offender away for twenty years who strong-armed the manager of a Men’s Wearhouse on Biscayne. He said he gives discounts to law enforcement. Go see him. And the next prosecutor you get will thank me. I’ll also warn her or him way in advance of your problem minding the clock. I will not sugar-coat it, as was done to me.’
    Manny shook his head. ‘Let me be honest now: Are you always this much of a bitch?’
    She didn’t blink. ‘Yes. Particularly when I’ve almost been stood up and, unlike you, I haven’t had my afternoon coffee. I didn’t even have my morning coffee, since I was here at
seven
, busting my ass to help my new C get the morning calendar ready.’
    â€˜I’m gonna buy you a cup. We need to get you some caffeine and get past this — you know, discuss a game plan, focus our anger on the bad guy, because I need to like you again. I really do.’ He looked down at her legs and bit his knuckle. ‘Okay, it’s coming back to me now.’
    â€˜Very funny. Don’t be a pig. That sort of flattery will get you nowhere.’
    He sighed loudly. ‘Because I’m trying to make amends here, I’ll make sure Raul makes you a fresh pot, ’cause he won’t after three, but he will for me. That’s how much I’m trying. I’m pulling out connections. I’ll even throw in a
pastelito
.’ He rubbed his stomach. ‘Yum.’
    â€˜Don’t ask for favors on my behalf.’ She finally smiled a little. ‘It is the least you could do.’
    He rolled his eyes. ‘As long as you pull your fangs in.’
    They stepped on to the main floor and headed to the courthouse cafeteria. Across the all-but deserted lobby, a well-dressed woman stood by herself at the bank of elevators. When she spotted Manny and Daria she began to walk toward them. She looked to be in her forties, with ash-blonde hair that was coiffed into a long, edgy, layered cut that could only have been professionally styled that morning. Daria’s eyes fell on the Hermès Birkin bag and then on the baubles — as in plural — that rested comfortably on several digits of her slim, tan hands. Tennis hands, no doubt. Miami had its share of wealthy inhabitants, but there was a noticeable difference between flashy South Florida spenders and their understated sisters to the north. Another Palm Beacher had crossed the county line.
    â€˜Uh-oh. This is gonna get interesting,’ Manny remarked.
    Before Daria could ask why, the woman was upon them.
    â€˜Excuse me, Ms DeBianchi,’ she said, extending her hand only to Daria. She nodded coolly at Manny. ‘Detective Alvarez.’
    Manny nodded back.
    â€˜Ms DeBianchi, my name is Abby Lunders. I was watching you in court this afternoon, listening to what you were saying, and I need