Razor Sharp by Fern Michaels

she’d had the good sense to come to him and leave all her records. He wondered if she had a suspicion something would happen to her. That alone had to mean she trusted him as her lawyer to do whatever would have to be done if something did occur. And now she was dead.
    Just how wealthy was Lily Flowers?
    What was it his mother used to say in instances like this? Oh, yes. “This is a fine kettle of fish.” His father would have said, “Grab that bull by the horns and wrestle him to the ground.” What fish or a bull had to do with anything was beyond Cosmo’s comprehension.
    Cosmo reached for his glasses and went back to work. Over and over he mumbled, “Who were you, Lily Flowers?”
    It was one o’clock, almost time to break for lunch, when he carried one stack of check registers and books back to the safe. When he returned to his desk he shifted the remaining pile of black leather books, and that’s when he saw that what he’d thought was another book was actually a case with a laptop inside. “Ahhh,” he said happily.
     
    Twenty-four hundred miles away in the nation’s capital, Jack Emery parked in front of Harry Wong’s dojo. Harry and Bert were waiting for him at the curb, small duffel bags at their feet. One look at Harry told Jack the martial arts expert was pissed that they weren’t taking his Ducati. “Forget it, Harry. Get your ass in here and enjoy the scenery. Obviously, three people cannot ride on one motorcycle. You just sit there and plot my death, that will give you something to do while Bert and I talk about normal things like women, baseball, women, money or our lack of it, women and women.”
    “Your mistake, Jack, was putting me in the backseat. All I have to do is lean forward, extend my index finger, and you are toast. Before Bert can lean over to try to help you, his head will explode. So, sit back, drive, and enjoy the ride,” Harry snarled good-naturedly.
    “Harry, you are one ugly, cantankerous, evil, did I mention ugly, ungrateful son of a bitch! I’m the brother you never had, the brother you love with all your heart and soul, the brother you would die for. Where is all this negativity coming from? I’m doing you a tremendous favor by driving you to the mountain so you can see the love of your life. You will arrive looking like the avenging saint that you are, not some bedraggled, homeless derelict riding a motorcycle. Women don’t care if it’s a Ducati or not. They only want you to smell nice, be well groomed, and not be barefooted. I’m saving you from disgrace. Please apologize for your bad behavior.” Jack risked a glance in the rearview mirror. It looked like Harry was going into a trance. He wondered what it meant.
    “I think he said for you to kiss his ass,” Bert cackled.
    “Some other time,” Jack said.
    “I do have a bit of gossip if anyone cares to hear about it,” Bert said.
    “Shame on you! Since when have we been reduced to listening to gossip?” Jack asked. “As the director of the FBI, you should be above such…such shenanigans. What? Don’t leave anything out. Harry thrives on gossip.”
    “What is it?” Harry demanded, coming out of his trance. He had to admit he did love juicy gossip, especially if it involved someone he knew. More so if it was someone he disliked.
    “Alexis and Joe Espinosa text each other all the time!” When there was no noticeable reaction to this information, Bert carried on. “And Isabelle is mooning over that guy she socked in the eye in Vegas last year. Maggie Spritzer told Ted who told Espinosa who then told me that Isabelle asked Maggie to ask her hacker friend Abner Tookus to try and get a handle on the guy who went to the Caymans. She even has a name, not that the schmuck would be using his real name. She even went so far as to ask Maggie if she could hire a private dick to track him down. What do you think of that?”
    “If that’s the best you can do, I’m dumping you out of this car right now. Harry and