working too hard? Should she push him about selling Water Street Bistro and moving on to something new? It wasn’t like him to keep a place so long, to be late for dinner, or to—
“That’s why I called this morning. I can’t go with you to the Bar Association Ball.”
—not take your loving daughter to important dates like the Bar Association Ball, Jessica thought, but said, instead, “What? Dad, you can’t back out on me now. The blasted thing is tonight.”
“I know. And I’m really, really sorry, honey, but this is unavoidable.”
“What is?”
Jessica frowned when her question was followed by a long silence. Finally, she asked, “Dad?”
“Why don’t you ask Detective McGuire?”
“To the ball? Oh, that would really work. I can see McGuire at a formal event for lawyers. He hates lawyers.”
“I don’t think so. I read a lot into his body language the other night.”
“I think you need glasses.”
“What’s the harm in asking him? It would be worth it just to see Wolcott’s face when you show up with a real man.”
“Dad!”
Her father started laughing, sounding more like himself at least, and Jessica smiled. “See you Thursday,” he said and hung up.
As she lowered the phone to her lap, she realized he had never explained what was so unavoidable.
Doug hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Another dead end. Ninety percent of murder investigations were spent on the telephone following up worthless leads.
Earlier that morning, he and Vic had checked Gilbert’s old rooming house and the landlord had told them Gilbert hadn’t even shown up to claim his belongings. They got the same story at his favorite bar. Nothing. No one. So they’d returned to the station to start making calls. He glanced over at Vic, who’d been working the phone, too, in time to see him slam it down and shake his head.
“No luck,” he said.
“So what else is new?” Doug grumbled.
In most cases, the murdered victims are killed by someone they know—a family member or a friend. It appeared that LeRoy Gilbert had neither.
As if Vic had read his mind, he said, “Guess when Gilbert killed his girlfriend he knocked off the only friend he had. You have any luck?”
“Nothing. Nobody claimed they saw him.”
“I’m having the same luck finding anyone connected to Cindy Fires. The girls she worked with all claim she never spoke of any family—but they’re threatening to start a defense fund for whoever did whack Gilbert. What about the autopsy report?”
“Couple days, but the M.E. said there’s no sign of a head contusion or any skin abrasions. And no neck bruises to indicate he was strangled.”
“Well, it’s for sure Gilbert didn’t tie that plastic bag around his head himself.”
“Maybe he wanted to keep his hair dry when he went swimming.”
“This job’s making you jaded, partner,” Vic said.
Yawning, Doug shoved back his chair. After the last few hours spent on the phone, he had begun to feel the effects of last night’s missed sleep. He walked over and refilled his cup. He sipped the hot brew as he stared out the window and thought about Jess.
Lord, what a night! In the twenty years he’d been having sex, he’d never gotten into it like he had with her. The two of them couldn’t get enough of each other.
Jess. His body responded to just the thought of her name. He’d never known a woman like her. She gave as much as she took. The thought of her flooded every one of his senses: the image of that long hair of hers fanned against the pillow as she reached for him, her eyes full with passion. He could still taste her, hear her throaty groans of pleasure and feel the satin and heat of her. And he could smell that hundred-dollar perfume she wore.
Sweat tickled his palms. He wanted more of her. God, he was screwing himself up royally. He had no business messing with a woman like her—she was no one-nighter. What had he gotten himself into?
Spinning on his heel, he tossed the paper cup into the waste can. “Let’s get out of here, Vic.”
“You forget we’re due in Judge Kirkland’s court in a couple of hours?”
Doug stifled a groan. He had forgotten. Just what he needed—to face her in court after last night. The way things were going, he’d get hard on the witness stand. He had to stop thinking about her.
“We’ve got time to go back to that dive where Gilbert hung out. Someone had to have seen him the day he died.”
“Yeah,” Vic said, slipping on his jacket. “The killer.”
Jessica saw Doug the moment he and Peterson entered the courtroom and sat down. She had to concentrate hard to keep her mind on what the assistant D.A. was saying, and fight the temptation to glance Doug’s way. He was watching her; she could feel the intensity of his blue-eyed stare. She had always felt it, from the first time he’d ever entered her court, and after last night, she wondered what was going through his mind.
“Objection, Your Honor!”
The sudden outburst jolted her back to the business at hand. She had lost her concentration. Flushed with embarrassment, she said, “Excuse me. Mr. Haley, will you read back the question?”
The young court reporter, Stanley Haley, looked up surprised, as did the testifying witness, and both the prosecuting and defense attorneys. Jessica never asked for a read-back.
“Mr. Haley?” she reiterated.
“Objection sustained,” she declared, after Stanley had read back the transcript. “You’re leading the witness, Counselor.”
The attorney continued, and Jessica leaned back with a silent sigh of relief that she hadn’t made a bigger mistake. She was reacting like an awestruck Doug McGuire groupie! She dared not even glance his way now. If she saw that knowing grin of his, she’d crawl beneath her bench and die.
Finally, the witness was excused and the prosecuting attorney called the first of the arresting officers—Detective Douglas McGuire—to the stand. Now free to assess him boldly, her steady gaze never wavered from his tall figure as he took the oath and sat down. He looked as good to her now as he had last night…and the day before…and the week before that.
As usual, his testimony was methodical and concise. He always came to court with every fact clear in his mind. That was one of the first things she’d noticed about him—that and those sensuous blue eyes…the broad shoulders…the tight buns. Damn! Her mind was wandering down dangerous channels again!
The evidence of the case was clear: the weapon had been found in the suspect’s house with his prints on it. The suspect had been found with powder residue on his hand and
