CHAPTER TWELVE
Kurt Billings was celebrating. He had, once again, nailed some lowlife and put her in jail.
It had been ridiculously easy. Marylin Smith turned out to be a total pushover.
Billings raised his martini glass to toast himself as he sat in the loud, laughing circle of other lawyers at the Executive Lounge, the most expensive piano bar in Phoenix. He took a long sip, settled into the comfortable leather chair, and smiled as he thought of how he had brought his case to a guilty verdict.
“You should have seen her,” Billings said to the man next to him, a criminal lawyer and the most junior member of the group. “As soon as she got on the stand I knew I had her. Nervous as hell. The case against her husband was open and shut. The cops busted into his motel room and found him in t
