Kill Fee by Barbara Paul Read Free Book Online

all—even if I'd lost
Summit,
I'd still be rid of Sussman and
that
was something to cheer about." Walsh didn't try to hide the fact that he was worried. "Then, of course, I came to my senses. I like to think of myself as a relatively civilized man, Lieutenant. I'm not proud of the way I reacted."
    Murtaugh nodded, taking it all with a grain of salt. He'd seen too many men admit to something discreditable in that same open, disarming way—admitting it because they were hoping to conceal something even more discreditable. But Walsh's reaction had been identical to that of quite a few of the people who'd known Jerry Sussman: first shock, then pleasure, then shame at feeling the pleasure. Walsh could be telling the truth.
    Murtaugh was having trouble getting a fix on the man. As the editor of a magazine like
Summit,
Walsh must be a man of considerable authority. Yet he didn't generate that impression when you talked to him. Walsh had more of an average-guy air about him; he was probably easy to work with and never pulled rank on his staff. His manner certainly showed no signs of the kind of barely restrained violence that could lead a man to murder. Even his admission that he'd hated his partner had carried no residue of smoldering hostility.
I like to think of myself as a relatively civilized man,
he'd said. Was that self-denigrating strain a true part of Walsh's character or was it just an act?
    Walsh had been out of town at the time Sussman was killed, in Connecticut, with his ex-wife. He and Leila Hudson had registered in a country inn—a story that could be checked a dozen different ways. But Walsh's physical whereabouts at the time of the shooting probably wasn't important; by now Murtaugh was fairly well convinced the shooting had been a professional job. The question now was whether Walsh had hired a killer to save his magazine for him or not. That was the kind of connection that was so hard to prove.
    Murtaugh told Walsh he'd be talking to him again and left the editor's office. The Lieutenant felt a little out of place in the
Summit
offices, a feeling he hadn't had for years.
    Sergeant Eberhart, on the other hand, looked right at home. He came up to Murtaugh and said, "Lieutenant, there's a woman down the hall you might want to talk to. Name's Fran Caffrey and she's the fiction editor."
    " What's she got to say?"
    "As little as possible, unfortunately. She was a sort of unofficial spy for Sussman here. Seems everybody in the office knew about it except Walsh. She wouldn't talk to me, but maybe you can get her to open up."
    Murtaugh nodded and went down the hall to the office Eberhart indicated. So Sussman had thought he needed a spy in what was technically his own organization. Interesting.
    Fran Caffrey was waiting for him, standing by her desk and leaning slightly forward as if ready to pounce. Had Eberhart scared her or was she always that tense?
    Murtaugh barely had time to mention his name before she interrupted. "That sergeant of yours has been asking questions about me! Am I a suspect or something?"
    "Good gracious, no." Murtaugh tried to look properly shocked at the idea. "It's just that we can't understand why Sussman would need his own private ear in a magazine he owned."
    "I don't know what you mean," she said stiffly.
    "Yes, you do. You weren't breaking any law by reporting to the primary owner what was going on in his own magazine. But it does imply Mr. Sussman didn't trust Mr. Walsh."
    "Mr. Sussman didn't trust anyone. Not even me." She sounded bitter.
    Something worth pursuing there? "He disappointed you in some way?" When she didn't answer, Murtaugh prompted: "Perhaps he promised you something."
    She threw him a hard glance. "Shrewd guess, Lieutenant. Or maybe I'm making it obvious, I don't know." She sighed. "Yes, he promised me something. It was a promise I know now he had no intention of keeping."
    A promotion,
Murtaugh thought. Perhaps even Walsh's job. "Would this broken promise have