"Kate Wilhelm - Sleight Of Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilhelm Kate)

Synopsis
When a seemingly simple case quickly turns complicated, respected attorney
Barbara Holloway must rethink her game plan. The route to justice is paved with
nothing but lies, and Barbara must make a judgment call that leaves her with no
option.
Gregarious Vegas entertainer Wally Lederer hasn't always enjoyed the attention of
center stage — something he learned about himself over thirty years ago when he
was in the slammer serving time for picking pockets. He claims he's turned his life
around, and his lucrative and legitimate showbiz career seems to support this. But
will the police believe he's a changed man now that Jay Wilkins, a childhood friend,
is accusing him of stealing a valuable artifact? More important, does Barbara believe
him when he pleads his case to her?
Wally swears he's innocent. There's no way he would jeopardize years of hard work
for the fleeting thrill of minor deception. But when Jay is found murdered, Barbara
knows Wally is in serious trouble — the police have named him as their prime
suspect.
Barbara begins to "dig up the dirt" and is shocked to learn that Jay's wife is now
missing — and that Jay himself was far from being the upstanding businessman he
claimed to be. Before long, new evidence points toward an unlikely killer, and
Barbara must decide is protecting her client by revealing the truth will destroy
another life she means to save.




Sleight of Hand
By
Kate Wilhelm
A book in the Barbara Holloway series
Copyright © 2006 by Kate Wilhelm
 Chapter 1
Frank Holloway liked the extensive library in the offices, and he liked being left alone
in it. Now and then one of the junior partners of the law firm started to enter, saw
him at the long table with stacks of books and discreetly withdrew. Once, one of
them had been at the table already when Frank entered and claimed his preferred
chair, dead center, where he had room to spread books on both sides. The younger
man had wrapped up his own research quickly and fled. As well he should have,
Frank had thought with satisfaction. He had been stocking the library when that
fellow was still a suckling; he had certain privileges.
That morning he had already put aside a few volumes with yellow notes sticking out
indicating page numbers. After he left, around noon, Patsy, his secretary, would
photocopy the cases he had marked, add her own note about volume and page, and
have the copies on his desk the following morning. Like clockwork, a well-oiled
machine working efficiently, he also thought with satisfaction.
Thus it was that he looked up in annoyance when Patsy entered the library at ten
minutes past eleven. Pointedly, he glanced at the wall clock above the door, then at
his own watch, and scowled at her. She frowned back. She had certain privileges,
too. She had been with him for forty years and was determined not to retire a day
before he did, but now that he was a published author, and on his way to writing a
second book, she was no longer hinting broadly at every opportunity for him to