Chapter Sixty-eight
‘Joe Simpson worries me,’ Matthew said, half to himself, ‘but I can’t put my finger on it.’
One week had passed since Angelo’s sentencing, and Matthew had joined Lena for their Friday night pizza and red wine ritual. They were in her new office on the twentieth floor of a city office tower, occupied by the large law firm that she had joined.
‘What do you mean?’ Lena said between mouthfuls of the pizza. ‘You think that someone got to him?’
‘He was a different man in court. Initially I thought that he was just overawed, had stage fright. But the more I think about it, the more he seemed hell-bent on helping the prosecution. I don’t think he’s the type to be bribed – frightened, perhaps, but not bribed. If he’s got a wife and kids, the threat could be in that direction
