"I thought not." Lipton sniffed indignantly. He looked back down at his papers before saying, "If it's a matter of money, I know your rates."

Casey didn't know how to respond to that. While it was true that money was on her mind, the way he broached the subject was almost insulting.

"Did my original choice of Michael as my counsel wound your pride?" Lipton inquired archly.

"Of course not," Casey said quickly.

"Of course it did," Lipton corrected. "You always had a thing about being the best, not the best you could be, but first, to win the prize. You always liked prizes, Casey. Well, Michael got the prize this time. He was the one the renowned law professor chose to come to his defense, and you didn't like that one bit, did you?

"No, I suppose you didn't," Lipton continued pensively. "But now it's yours. For reasons we shan't discuss, he is no longer the appropriate person to handle the situation. You, my dear, are just what I need. The evidence against me is insufficient and I will be acquitted. You will see to it."

Lipton passed the files across the table to her.

"I have done the major part of your work for you," he said, patting the stack of papers with paternal affection. "But your gift is with the jury."

Casey's cheeks showed a hint of pink.

"I have to tell you," she confessed, "that my relationship with Judge Rawlins leaves a lot to be desired."

"All the better," he said. "Maybe he'll do something stupid. That wouldn't be unheard of. If he does, it will give us more to work with if we need to appeal. But as I said, I'm certain you'll win."

"I'll want to start from the beginning," she said in her most professional manner. "I'll ask Rawlins for a six-month extension with the right to resubmit all motions."

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Lipton countered. "My trial begins a week from Monday, and that's all you'll need to prepare."