Judging Time by Leslie Glass Read Free Book Online Page B

clutched his head. "In the yard?" His face was ashen. "Oh Jesus. This can't be happening. He was a thief. I didn't think he was a killer. No, no."
    "Who?" Mike said sharply. "Who's a killer?"
    "I told Tor that guy Jefferson was trouble. He just wouldn't listen. First my car. Now this—I can't believe—" He broke off.
    "Your car?" Mike frowned at April.
    "He took my car while I was in Europe. When I got back last week he told me the car had been stolen off the street. I tried to convince Tor to fire him right then."
    "Who are you referring to, sir?" April asked gently.
    "Wally Jefferson, Tor—Mr. Petersen's driver. My head is bad. I need a doctor."
    "Yes, sir. We can call one right away."
    "And call Jason Frank. his wife was with them, with Merrill and Tor. Emma's not—?"
    "No, she wasn't with them." April had been feeling hot and dizzy and a bit confused herself in the warm apartment. Now she relaxed a little. They had a suspect. Liberty seemed to think the chauffeur who had stolen his car might have been the killer. That was a start. She was also comforted by the fact that Jason Frank was Liberty's doctor. April narrowed her eyes at him. So the former football player was seeing a shrink. In her eyes that made him suspect of something, but she wasn't sure what. It could mean Liberty was depressed, or mentally unbalanced in some other way. Maybe violent. Interesting about the headaches. Certainly Jason Frank would know. April had influence with Jason Frank.
    Mike's hand brushed April's arm. She knew what the gesture meant. Everything in their lives had changed, and yet here they were again, back on a case together—she, Mike, and Jason Frank. The ghost of Merrill Liberty was like the wing of a butterfly fluttering against April's cheek. Her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she could almost hear it.

5
    W ell, what do you think then?" Daphne Petersen directed her question at Sanchez, who seemed to expand a few inches under her gaze. The new widow was an intense young woman with big blue eyes, the fairest skin, hair even inkier than April's own, and a voluptuous body clearly visible under her tightly belted satin robe. She spoke with a strong English accent and seemed to enjoy the reaction she was getting from the visiting detective.
    "Ah . . ." Mike stalled. Paired with the pose she had taken, the question seemed to confuse him.
    April made a little disapproving noise through her nose. The victim's wife was supposed to be in shock, not the detective breaking the news. Daphne Petersen, however, was nowhere near shock. She was hardly surprised to see them, nor did she seem to mind being roused before dawn to hear about the death of her husband during the night. She responded to the news with a somewhat detached interest, as if the deceased had been a neighbor with whom she had shared a driveway.
    "What do you mean?" Mike got out at last.
    "Well, do you think it's some sort of drug thing, a hit of some sort? A buy gone wrong? A jealous husband?' ' She tossed her head of black curls that didn't look as if they'd been disturbed by sleep. They bounced back to their former position. The curls framed a face that, at 6:17 in the morning, was not by any means devoid of makeup.
    As April examined her, she wondered if the English lady of the house already knew her husband was dead, and if she had not been alone in the bedroom when they arrived. Daphne Petersen was probably around thirty, some fifteen years younger than her late husband.
    The only feeling the new widow exhibited for the situation was to shudder at the word "hit." Then she sought immediate relief in a package of Marlboros. Unlike Liberty, she expressed no shock or denial. She almost seemed to have been expecting them. April wondered if the woman's detachment might be a cultural thing. From what she had read about the English in the newspapers, it was pretty obvious that they didn't care much about anything. April turned her expressionless face to Mike to see what he