Witness... And Wife?. Kate Stevenson

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СКАЧАТЬ managed a tremulous smile that would have done credit to a vestal virgin. “I don’t mind. I know you’re just doing your job.”

      Luke nodded approval of her attitude as he thumbed open his notepad. “I’ll be as brief as possible, since I see you’re busy.”

      “Busy?” Chelsea followed his gaze to the half-filled cardboard boxes on the floor. “Oh, yes. I’m moving. But I have plenty of time to get things in order. I don’t start my new job for a couple of days.”

      “New job?”

      “Judge Kimball’s clerk recently retired, and he was kind enough to offer me the position.” Spurred by Luke’s raised brows, she elaborated. “He and Judge Wainright worked so closely, it’s rather like keeping it in the family, you know.” She fingered the gold chain at her neck and sighed.

      The movement drew attention to her deep cleavage, a fact Cassie concluded was not wasted on Luke, based on the pregnant silence that followed. By sheer force of will, she refrained from shooting him an exasperated glance before she steered the conversation back on course. “What was Judge Wainright like to work for?”

      “Wonderful. He was positively wonderful.” Chelsea appeared ready to launch into a soliloquy about her former boss, but before she could start, Luke segued to the next question.

      “So you were aware the judge was working late?”

      She nodded. “Yes, he had a trial starting first thing Monday morning and wanted everything ready. He often stayed late. Lots of people do here. There are fewer interruptions at night. And on Fridays almost everyone’s gone by six.”

      “You didn’t know he was expecting anyone?”

      “No.”

      “Is that usual? I thought you kept track of his schedule.”

      “I do—did. Judge Wainright was a stickler for proper procedure. He insisted I record every appointment.”

      Luke frowned. “Yet he didn’t mention a meeting with Ms. Bowers.”

      Annoyance painted twin creases between Chelsea’s penciled brows. “If Ms. Bowers did, indeed, have an appointment…” She shot Cassie a skeptical look that indicated she wasn’t entirely convinced of the veracity of Cassie’s claim. “Judge Wainright was undoubtedly being considerate. He knew I was expecting my mother for dinner.”

      Cassie refused to take offense at the insinuation she might be lying. Chelsea was obviously miffed she hadn’t been informed of all her boss’s activities. To tell the truth, Judge Wainright’s secretiveness puzzled Cassie as much as it did the clerk. Not for a moment did she consider it an oversight. The man was too conscientious to be forgetful.

      No, he’d had some reason for not advertising the meeting. But what could it be?

      Resisting the morbid lure of the closed door, Cassie glanced around the sunlit anteroom while Luke continued to question Chelsea. The room seemed no different from when she’d first interviewed Wainright. File cabinets still lined one wall, and the clerk’s oak desk sat in exactly the same spot, centered on a carpet of bright crimson, guarding the entrance to the judge’s chambers. Nothing to indicate a violent crime had occurred a few feet away.

      “That’s where they found the judge.”

      Chelsea’s voice cut through Cassie’s thoughts, making her aware the conversation had stopped. And to make matters worse, she’d been caught staring once more at the very door she’d tried to avoid.

      “But then you already know that’s where it happened, don’t you?” Chelsea said, her tone hushed with morbid curiosity.

      A lump lodged in Cassie’s throat, making speech impossible. Suddenly fearful the clerk would offer to open the door, she wet her dry lips and resisted an urge to wipe her palms against her cotton skirt. She didn’t want to see the room. Even if it proved to be the only way to remember what had happened, she couldn’t look.

      Her overactive imagination, abetted by a year on the police beat, supplied a much-too-vivid picture of what probably lay beyond the closed door. Gaping holes in the carpet where investigators had cut out bloodstains. Empty chalk outlines identifying the original location of possible evidence. A coating of powder on every stick of furniture that might yield fingerprints.

      She shuddered. So little to mark the passage of a man’s life.

      “Ms. Bowers doesn’t remember.”

      The sound of Luke’s voice wrenched Cassie from her grisly thoughts. Startled, she threw a glance over her shoulder. When had he crossed the room to stand vigil behind her chair?

      “Not yet.” Luke patted Cassie’s shoulder.

      Chelsea’s bright lips formed into a perfect O.

      Cassie felt her cheeks flame at Luke’s theatrical gesture. She realized he hoped to keep the killer guessing, but did he have to act so proprietary? If it weren’t for the clerk’s sharp eyes taking in every move, Cassie would have shrugged off his hand.

      “How dreadful,” Chelsea commiserated, widening her eyes in elaborate sympathy.

      “A temporary condition, I’m sure,” Cassie replied evenly.

      “Since I’m through for now, why don’t you go ahead with your questions, Cassandra?” His thumb grazed the nape of her neck as he withdrew his hand.

      Heat zinged along her spine.

      Startled, she stiffened, fighting the surge of awareness spreading through her body. His touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be accidental, but whatever message he’d intended was lost in her efforts to ignore her tingling nerves.

      She wedged herself into the corner of the chair, as far from his wandering hand as possible, but he didn’t take the hint. Instead, he rested his hands on the top of the chair, hovering over her like a tenacious palace guard.

      Still much too close. But since she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his presence flustered her, she turned her attention to Chelsea. “I’m sure you were aware Judge Wainright was assisting me with some articles I’m writing for the Denver Tattler.”

      “Of course.” She sniffed. “After your interview he ordered transcripts from a long list of trials. He said he wanted to check his facts. It took me two trips to carry them all.”

      Since Cassie had hauled her share of records while doing research, she could empathize with the clerk’s vexed air, but Chelsea’s remark raised an interesting possibility. Maybe Judge Wainright had found something Cassie had missed. “I don’t suppose you still have those transcripts?”

      “Certainly.” Chelsea motioned toward the steel filing cabinets. “I never throw anything away without express orders.”

      Too easy, Cassie thought. “Could I take a look at them?”

      Uncertainty flickered across the clerk’s face. “I don’t know. I should probably get approval.” She picked up a pen. “Do you want me to try Judge Kimball?”

      “I’d appreciate it. The transcripts might give me a clue to why СКАЧАТЬ