Well, if it isn’t Lorelei Warner. When my secretary told me you requested a meeting I almost couldn’t believe it.”
On the way up to Miles’s office, Dallas gave me a few pointers. Be nice, but not too nice, and don’t let on that we’ve seen the e-mail correspondence between Richard and him. The way Kennedy, Paige, and I came across those wasn’t exactly legal and if anyone knows the ins and outs of the law, it would be Miles Harper. He graduated at the top of our class at Harvard and I found out in my research that any day now he’s going to be appointed as a judge in Indiana. Rumor also has it that he’s being positioned for a seat on the Indiana Supreme Court and that’s why he’s on such a fast track in his career.
Obviously, someone of his caliber would have a lot to lose if word got out that he was blackmailing one of the richest men in the state. Or if he killed him.
“Miles, it’s so good to see you again.”
I plaster a smile on my face as he rounds his desk and takes both of my hands in his before leaning in to kiss my cheek. My parents adore Miles, of course, and the few times we’ve seen each other, I’ve tolerated him. He throws his social standing and wealth around every chance he gets and it’s nauseating.
“I must say, Lorelei, I like the new look,” he tells me, staring me up and down. When Dallas did it earlier in the evening, it shot a thrill through my body. When Miles does it, I want to go home and shower.
“Hi, I’m Dallas Osborne. I work with Lorelei.”
Dallas shoves his arm between me and Miles and I silently thank him for the interruption. Miles drops my hands and shakes Dallas’s outstretched one.
“I thought maybe my secretary had made a mistake. When she told me Lorelei Warner was requesting a meeting as a private investigator, I nearly died laughing. So it’s true you’ve given up your legal career for something frivolous? What is it you do exactly? Take down hardened criminals?”
Miles laughs at me mockingly and it makes my blood boil.
“Actually, yes, that’s exactly what she does. If you don’t mind, we’re investigating the death of Richard Covington. We know the two of you worked together, so we’d just like to ask you a few questions.”
Miles perches casually on the edge of his desk.
“Really? So the rumors are true. Lorelei Warner has kissed her stellar legal career good-bye to follow a lifelong dream of . . . what? Pretending she’s a hard-ass among the dregs of society?” Miles says with a laugh. “Your parents must be having a field day.”
Telling my parents off gave me such a high of satisfaction that I’m still floating on that. I would have no problem punching Miles in his smug face.
“Speaking of parents, how is your father doing? Is he going to be up for parole anytime soon?”
I know I shouldn’t stoop to his level, but I can’t help myself. Three years ago Miles’s father, then president of Indiana State Bank, was convicted of embezzlement. Miles has had a hard time clearing the family name and working his way back up the social ladder. I know my point hits home when I see the smile vanish from his face. In its place is barely concealed fury. Good. That’s exactly what I want. A man fueled by anger is more likely to slip up.
“Ask your questions. I have work to do,” Miles informs me through clenched teeth.
“How many years did you work with Richard Covington?” Dallas asks.
Miles tears his angry gaze from mine and looks over at Dallas. “I was part of his legal team for fifteen years—attorney-client privilege,” Miles tells him, folding his arms in front of him.
It seems as though Miles is forgetting our mutual industry.
“Obviously we’re not asking you to divulge any of Mr. Covington’s legal confidences. But as I’m sure you are aware, the death of a client negates any previous attorney-client privilege if such information is necessary in solving a crime.”
Miles glances over at me and sighs. “What exactly would you like to know?”
“We’re just wondering if Mr. Covington mentioned anything to you about enemies. Maybe someone in the business world who had a grudge against him, or possibly a blackmail scheme gone wrong.”
Dallas coughs into his hand and I know that’s his warning to stop. I know I shouldn’t have brought up that exact suggestion, but I couldn’t help it. I don’t like the way Miles is sitting here acting like he’s better than everyone. He’s the type of person who naturally assumes he’s smarter than the average person and can get away with anything he wants.
Miles narrows his eyes at me and I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s wondering what I know.
“Richard made a lot of enemies over the years, naturally. A man with that kind of wealth doesn’t go through life without pissing a few people off,” Miles explains.