Due Justice by Diane Capri Read Free Book Online

later, both Mary Sheffield and I were long past any ability to feign interest. She opened a conversation about the next Junior League Show House, which I found only slightly more interesting than watching paint dry.
    Spied a more interesting conversation near the Sunset Bar. Again, I escaped.
    Chief Hathaway and Frank Bennett were doubtless talking shop. I approached, slightly obscured behind a passing waiter.
    â€œHow long will it take to make a positive I.D.?” Frank asked Chief Hathaway.
    Ben replied, “The body’s in bad shape. Finger prints are impossible. Searching medical and dental records will take a while. Too long, maybe.”
    â€œAre you sure it’s the tourist, at least?”
    â€œIn fact, we’re pretty sure it’s not.”
    Frank saw me lurking, invited me to join them, and caught me up. “Sorry for discussing business at a party, Willa. But I was asking Ben about the victim we discussed earlier. I’ve got to have something to report at eleven besides Elizabeth Taylor’s no-show.”
    I said, “You’re kidding, right? You’re not going to say that.”
    Ben ignored our nonsense, looked thoughtful for a few seconds and instructed Frank. “There’s no point to upsetting everyone until we get a little more information.”
    Frank acquiesced. “Can I quote you that it’s not the tourist, at least?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œCan you give me something on the missing Dr. Morgan, at least?” Frank never gives up.
    Ben asked, “Isn’t he here, Willa? I saw his name on the guest list and Peter told me he’d checked in. I marked that case closed.”
    Relief flooded through me in palpable waves.
    Morgan wasn’t dead after all.
    Carly was ok.
    I was okay.
    I told them the truth. “I’ve never met Michael Morgan. But if Peter said he’s here, I’m sure he is.”
    Just then two waiters walked by ringing chimes to signal that dinner was served; I was grateful for the excuse to move on.
    By the time everyone was seated for dinner, I was ready to call it a night.
    Kate was seated at the senator’s table, as were George and I. Elizabeth Taylor’s place remained empty—a no show, as Frank said. The meal passed uneventfully.
    The senator gave a short speech thanking everyone for their contribution to AIDS research and reminding them of the work ahead. Privately, the senator was campaigning. I heard him tell Kate that it was a critical time for foreign policy and free trade, and the party needed him on the Foreign Relations Committee for another term.
    Elections were several months away, but early money is like yeast: its necessary to raise the dough to get elected. From the looks of the crowded room, I guessed he’d made the same pitch to all of them and several thousand packages of yeast would be contributed to his campaign in the next few days.
    There was no question that the Republican candidate posed a serious threat to Warwick’s reelection, but I wondered whether the campaign contributions made to Warwick’s campaign would really support free trade or just his ego.
    The party ended and everyone gone by midnight.
    Left George to close up, trudged upstairs for bed.
    Called Carly again to tell her the good news: that Dr. Morgan had been here tonight, alive and in person.
    Still no answer; I didn’t leave another message.
    George and I usually like to dissect these events and rehash the various conversations. But tonight, I collapsed into deep slumber long before he came upstairs.
    Even though I consume mystery novels like candy, I was new to the investigator game. I had learned what I needed to know about Dr. Morgan without having to inquire. No one acted guilty, whatever that means.
    So I missed my best opportunity to investigate everyone who had a reason to kill Michael Morgan.
    In the long run, it would have saved me a lot of pain if I’d figured that out.
    But