Confessions. JoAnn Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ think I have the picture. So she was mad at Garvey?”

      “Livid. But actually, now that I think about it, she seemed angrier at your victim. Kept muttering about the lady already having one man and how she had no right taking someone else’s.”

      “Want to give me her name?”

      “Not really. Since she’s the only decent hairdresser I’ve managed to find in this part of the state and if she ends up in the state pen for murder I’m going to be really pissed.” She scowled. “It’s Patti. With an i. Patti Greene. She runs The Shear Delight on Pinewood Drive.”

      Trace wrote the name in his notebook.

      “There’s something else,” she said. “Patti said something about telling Matthew Swann about his daughter’s affair.”

      “Not the husband?”

      “If she had that in mind, she didn’t mention it. Apparently Swann broke the couple up once before. Patti was hoping he’d have the clout to do it again.”

      Trace thought about the message left on the phone recorder and decided that he had a pretty good idea exactly what Swann had been so angry about. He also thought about the fact that Cora Mae still hadn’t managed to track the rancher down in Santa Fe.

      “You know,” Jessica said thoughtfully, “this is going to generate a lot of heat. We’d better start the paperwork for obtaining a search warrant.”

      Trace had already decided to do just that. “Worried the senator might withdraw permission?”

      “Cases like this, the killer is usually a family member.” She told Trace nothing he didn’t already know. “If Fletcher is involved, and he gets spooked, he could do just that.”

      “Wouldn’t want to step on any murderer’s constitutional rights,” Trace agreed dryly.

      She laughed. “Spoken like a true cop. That’s the difference between you and me, Callahan. All you have to do is put on your blue body stocking with the big red S sewn on the front of it, outrun a few locomotives while dodging speeding bullets and apprehend the bad guys.

      “While I, on the other hand, have to make certain they make it through the convoluted maze of our judicial system without escaping through some legal loophole.”

      He thought of Laura Swann lying all alone in the morgue and vowed that would not happen.

      “I think I’ll stop by the Garvey place on the way back to town,” Trace said. “And I’m calling a press conference for noon. Doc Potter should be done with the autopsy by then and we’ll know more.”

      “You realize there’s a good chance most of the national media won’t be able to make it here by then?”

      “One can only hope.”

      “You’re incorrigible, Callahan.” She shook her head and gave him a saucy grin. “That’s probably why I like you. Along with the fact that you’re not bad in bed.”

      There were a lot of reasons Trace liked her. And for more than terrific sex.

      “I assume you want to be there?”

      “You ever known a politician who wouldn’t jump stark naked through flaming hoops at a chance for national publicity? I’ll be there.”

      Jessica Ingersoll might be a politician, Trace thought. But she was also, as they would have said in the Dallas PD locker room, “a stand-up guy.”

      “Stop by my office about eleven-thirty,” he suggested. “The doc should be done by then.”

      She stepped over the lingerie and walked over to the bed. “It’s a date.”

      “Well, I’ve got an autopsy to attend. And some paperwork to get started on. Later.”

      “Later.” She was frowning at the bloodstained headboard and didn’t bother to look up at him.

      Trace was unlocking the Suburban when a voice called out to him. “Hey, Callahan!”

      He looked up and saw Jessica leaning out the bedroom window. “Yeah?”

      “You are going to shower and shave and change your clothes before the press conference, aren’t you?”

      “Sure,” he said, not wanting to admit he’d been too busy to give any thought to the matter.

      “Good. Because you look like roadkill.” She wiggled her perfect patrician nose. “And no offense, Sheriff, but you kinda smell like one, too.”

      He waved off her accusation, but as he drove back to town, he lifted his arm and sniffed.

      As usual, she was right.

      Chapter Five

      The Lakeside Lodge had begun its existence as the family home of a millionaire lumber baron. Built at the turn of the century, the stately mansion could have inspired, in its day, a year’s worth of sermons on conspicuous consumption. It had also been a startling contrast to the sawmills and saloons of the lusty, booming community of Whiskey River.

      The mansion had changed hands several times, eventually falling into disrepair. Five years ago it had been lovingly restored by its current owners, who’d decorated it with an eclectic, but attractive mix of antique and western furniture, and established it as a landmark lodge and conference center.

      As a girl, Mariah, along with the rest of Whiskey River’s kids, had prowled the decaying, boarded-up mansion, scaring themselves silly telling ghost stories they swore were true.

      Now, while she admired the transformation, the golden oak columns and paneling of the lobby—which had been the original entry hall—represented yet another sign of change in a hometown she’d always believed to have been frozen in time.

      Although the desk clerk informed Mariah there were no rooms—the lodge was booked months in advance for the holiday, the young man sniffed—all she had to do was mention the Swann name and presto, a suite just happened to open up.

      “You’re right down the hall from Ms. Martin,” the clerk volunteered as he handed Mariah the coded card.

      “Ms. Martin?”

      “The senator’s aide. She checked in late last night.”

      “Was she alone?”

      “Actually—” he leaned over the counter “—the senator was with her when she arrived. He also went upstairs with her.” He’d lowered his voice, but Mariah couldn’t miss the implication in his tone. The man liked to gossip. Terrific.

      “Tell me, Kevin,” she said, reading his name tag and smiling conspiratorially as she leaned toward him, “would you happen to know how long the senator was upstairs with Ms. Martin?”

      “Well.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked around, as if to ensure the manager wasn’t hovering anywhere nearby to observe his indiscretion. “Although I’m not one to spread gossip....”

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