Final Appeal by Lisa Scottoline

the scissors. “I’m listening.”
    She slides into the hard leather chair across from my desk and crosses her long legs in the drapey skirt. “You might as well say it. You know I’m on the tape.”
    “I haven’t seen it yet, so I don’t know that. Why don’t you tell me what I’m going to see?”
    She tosses her hair back. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you tell me what I saw that night in Armen’s office? On the conference table and the couch, as I recall.”
    I feel myself stop breathing. I love you . “What you saw was none of your business. You were spying.”
    “You were fucking your boss.”
    I rise to my feet involuntarily behind the desk. “What were you doing there?”
    She doesn’t bat an eye. “What’s the difference what I was doing there? You were fucking him, Grace.”
    The mouth on this child. “Stop saying that.”
    “You two were having an affair, I knew it all along. That’s why he wanted you on Hightower . When he told you he wouldn’t marry you, you threatened to blackmail him. Tell the papers, ruin his reputation. You and Ben put so much pressure on him that he killed himself the same night.”
    I look at her in astonishment. “That’s ridiculous, all of it. Where did you get that from?”
    “I figured it out.”
    Typical Yale grad; totally impractical—or smart enough to know that the best defense is a good offense. “It’s crazy.”
    “You should be ashamed of yourself,” she says. Her voice rises in anger, but I can’t tell if it’s an act or not.
    “Wait a minute, Sarah, what were you doing in chambers in the middle of the night? You were supposed to be in bed with Artie.”
    “I knew Armen would be working late. I was bringing him a sandwich.”
    “You left Artie to bring another man something to eat?”
    “Artie wouldn’t mind. He loves Armen.”
    “So you told him?”
    She looks uncertain. “Not exactly.”
    “Of course you didn’t. You didn’t care if Armen was hungry, Sarah, you knew I’d be working late with him, and you wanted to see if anything was happening that shouldn’t be. If he was cheating on Susan, your friend.”
    “Are you kidding?” She laughs abruptly. “I knew their marriage was over.”
    Part of it is true, leaving me dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”
    “I practically ran her campaign, remember? I’ll be her chief aide after this job. She tells me everything.”
    “Then why were you so worried about the tapes?”
    “Because I knew I was on them.”
    It doesn’t square. “So why is that a problem, if you have nothing to hide? A tape of you with a sandwich, so what?”
    Her blue eyes freeze like ice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you accusing me of?”
    I don’t even know, but she’s getting angrier, so I spin a plausible argument out of the meager facts I’ve been dealt, making something out of nothing, like any good lawyer. “All right, how’s this? You come to the office and see Armen and me on the couch. You’re so enraged you can’t sleep. You go to his house, and he lets you in. Even Bernice is happy to see you, so she doesn’t make a fuss.”
    “Ridiculous.”
    My hand inches over to the scissors. “You scream at him, lose control, like you did the other morning with Ben. He tells you he loves me and you go even crazier.”
    “Why would I do all that?”
    “Because you’re in love with him.”
    Sarah’s mouth drops open, and before I can stop her she’s lunging right at me. I feel the sting of a hard slap across my cheek and stagger backward, the scissors slipping from my hand. She comes at me again, her face contorted with uncontrollable rage. I know that expression, have seen it before on someone else, and for the first time in my life I realize I’ve been slapped before, with that much force. I slide down against the bookshelf, then am caught by strong arms. My father’s. Sarah’s.
    “Grace!” Sarah yells. “Oh, God, are you all right?”
    Grace, are you all