Murder in Plain Sight. Marta Perry

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raised an eyebrow at Jessica. “That all right with you?”

      “I suppose so.” The words came out grudgingly. “I can get a cab…”

      “My truck’s right here.” He took her arm. “By the time you wait for a cab, you’ll be even later.”

      She pushed back her sleeve to glance at the gold bracelet watch that circled her wrist. Nice. And expensive. A gift, maybe, from a boyfriend or fiancé? She didn’t wear a ring, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved with someone.

      “All right. Thanks.”

      He opened the door for her. She climbed in, smoothing her skirt down over her knees. The skirt didn’t quite make it.

      Removing his gaze with an effort, he rounded the truck, got in and started the engine. He shouldn’t be looking at her legs, much as they were worth a second glance. And he shouldn’t be wondering whether she had a man in her life. The only thing that should interest him at the moment was whether this unpleasantness might make her back off from the case.

      They drove for a block in silence. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said finally. “I knew feelings were running high, but I never expected open vandalism. I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

      “Is that really what you feel? Or were you thinking that this might be what it took to drive me off?” Her tone was sharp, and he could hardly blame her. Jessica seemed to have an uncanny ability to read his mind.

      He took a deep breath and sought for a rational answer. It wouldn’t come.

      “I suppose you’re thinking that I might have done it myself to get rid of you,” he said.

      A glance at her face told him she’d been thinking exactly that. He clamped his lips shut on the angry words that wanted to pour out. He wasn’t sure whether he was angrier at her for thinking that of him or at himself for caring.

      He took a deep breath and held it for a count of five. Ten would probably have been better.

      “I’m not going to keep protesting my innocence to you. But you ought to see that this is the very thing I’m trying to protect my mother against. I’m not pleased it happened to you, but—” He stopped. That sentence wasn’t going anywhere good.

      “But you’d rather it was me than your mother,” she finished for him. “All right, I get that.” She slanted a sideways glance at him. “And I’m willing to concede that you don’t seem the sort of person to stick knives into people’s tires.”

      “Thank you,” he said stiffly.

      She shook her head. “I just don’t understand why anyone wants to take their anger at the crime out on me. Surely they realize that Thomas has to have a defense attorney. If not me, it will be someone else.”

      “I’m not sure the person who slashed your tires is capable of logical thought. Besides, you’re a Philadelphia lawyer.”

      She looked at him blankly. “So?”

      “You don’t know the expression?” He couldn’t help smiling. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Counselor, but out in country places, the term is used as a not-very-complimentary comparison. As in, ‘He’s as slick as a Philadelphia lawyer.’”

      “Charming,” she said. “No, I didn’t know that. But our vandal might as well get one thing clear.” She turned toward him as he pulled up in front of the jail. “I’m not quitting this case. Not if I have to put new tires on my car every day of the week.”

      “That could get expensive,” he said mildly, but he wasn’t deceived. Jessica didn’t just mean that for the vandal, whoever he might be. She meant it for him, as well.

      He should be annoyed. He was. But he was also experiencing a certain sneaking admiration for Jessica Langdon. She might be a thorn in his side at the moment, but he had to admit that she had guts.

      TRUE TO HIS WORD, Leo Frost was waiting for Jessica at the jail. She walked toward the spare, slightly stooping figure, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Thomas must be persuaded to talk to her. To give her something upon which she could build a case.

      That was the important thing, not the vandalism to her car. And certainly not whatever random feelings and questioning doubts Trey had managed to raise.

      “Mr. Frost.” She gripped his hand briefly. “Thanks again for coming.”

      “No problem at all.” He nodded toward the desk. “I asked the officer to have Thomas brought down. We may as well go on into the interview room.”

      Maybe he needed to sit down. Compunction hit her as she fell into step with him. “Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry I’m late.”

      “Not at all.” He held the door for her and then sank into one of the straight chairs with a sigh. Someone had brought an extra chair in, she noted, showing more consideration for Frost’s health than she had, it seemed.

      “Mr. Frost, I do apologize…”

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