Deadly Deals by Fern Michaels

Clinique, had relayed Maggie’s words verbatim, and Newsom had sent her secretary on an errand.
    Adel Newsom was probably in her early fifties but looked sixty. Some sloppy surgeon had sliced and diced, chopped and grated, buffed and puffed her until she looked like a really bad version of Joan Rivers.
    Adel Newsom had strawberry blond hair that had been dyed and fried. Maggie almost laughed out loud when she thought of the Chinese restaurant where she always ordered something called the Birdnest, which was a crackly fried noodle affair that you could see through. Newsom’s hair looked just like the Birdnest. Her nose was small and pointy. Her lips looked unnatural and barely covered the woman’s blinding white capped teeth. She was wearing a bright red Chanel suit. Botoxed out the kazoo. She didn’t bother to get up or even offer to shake hands. Her voice was husky and sounded coarse. Too many cigarettes and too much whiskey, Maggie decided. She looked wary, which told Maggie that Baron Bell had probably called her the minute Lizzie left his office.
    â€œI don’t have much time. I have a deposition scheduled in a few minutes, but I always try to take time for the press. What can I do for you, Miss Spritzer? I don’t understand what kind of quote I can possibly give you.” Long, scarlet nails filed to points drummed on the desktop. Other than that, not a muscle moved on the woman.
    This was the part Maggie loved. She sat down, looked the lawyer straight in the eye, and said, “Can you tell me what your relationship with Baron Bell is? Is it professional, or is it romantic? My sources are telling me it’s both. Did you aid and abet him with the surrogate mothers who took back their babies from the adopting parents? I’m referring to the Dawsons and the Evanses. Again, my sources are telling me that the answer is yes in both cases. I also understand you are the attorney of record for a second, and possibly a third, placement of the babies.
    â€œI also understand you were served this morning, along with Baron Bell. Do you care to confirm that? Before coming here, I met with Lizzie Fox. She’s going to be the attorney of record on these lawsuits. Do you care to confirm or deny that she is the attorney who had you served this morning? I think I used up my five minutes, so if you’ll just respond, I’ll be on my way, and you can get to your deposition.” Adel Newsom would make a good poker player, Maggie thought.
    â€œI have no comment at this time, Miss Spritzer,” Newsom said in her husky voice.
    â€œWhen will you have a comment, Miss Newsom? This is going to get ugly. I think you know that. Not only is it going to get very ugly, Miss Newsom, but there is a rumor going around the District that the vigilantes are on this case. Now it’s just a rumor, which I have been unable to confirm, but in my experience, where there’s smoke, there is usually fire.”
    Adel Newsom stood up. Maggie was surprised at how tall the Lizzie Fox wannabe was, how perfectly proportioned. The lawyer did her best to smile, but it came off as a frightened grimace. “When I have a comment I wish to share, I’ll call you directly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a deposition to take.”
    â€œDon’t worry about me. I can see myself out. Thank you for seeing me. I’ll be sure to quote you verbatim.” Maggie scampered to the door and opened it. She walked away from the door, then doubled back. She tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to it. She could hear a voice but couldn’t hear what was being said. She just knew Newsom was on the phone with Baron Bell. Then she did hear something. “What the hell do you think I said, you idiot? I said I had no comment.”
    Maggie sashayed down the hall. At the receptionist’s desk, she leaned over and whispered to the blonde. “I think you should start sending out your résumé. Like right