Looks to Die For by Janice Kaplan Read Free Book Online

tender sympathy.
    But Dan just shrugged and sat down again on the sofa. “There’s really nothing dramatic to tell. Chauncey handled everything quickly this morning. I’m sure this will all be over soon.”
    “Honey, I’m scared. This can’t be happening. It’s just way beyond awful.”
    “Not so bad.”
    Dan crossed his arms in front of him and I pinched my lips together. So Dan was being brave and taking it like a man. When Zeno of Citium invented Stoicism in 300 B.C . and declared that males should be unmoved by joy or grief, did he realize that he was going to piss off women for the next two thousand years?
    “Chauncey’s just been getting some information from me,” Dan said, avoiding any emotional discussions by sticking with facts. “You can probably help.” He gestured toward a chair across the room, and I sat down, pulling at the edge of my slim skirt. I had to remember to tell the tailor to go an inch longer next time, though it probably wouldn’t matter. I’d feel vulnerable right now even if I were bundled in a burnoose.
    Chauncey strummed his fingers on his desk, not seconding the invitation. “Dan, you have complete lawyer-client confidentiality in this room, but we have some difficult topics to cover. I need you to be able to talk freely.” He glanced at me, and I got the point.
    “I don’t have to stay. I can wait outside,” I said, jumping up to leave.
    Dan shook his head. “Don’t do that. I want you here.”
    I sat down again, feeling a little like a marionette, with Chauncey and Dan pulling the strings.
    Deciding just to ignore me, Chauncey turned back to Dan. “Let’s go over Tasha Barlow, or Theresa Bartowski, again.” He pulled out the picture that I’d seen that morning, along with several others. “You’ve had a little time now. What do you think?”
    Dan leaned forward to look at the images, but then sat back again. “I meet a lot of women at parties and charity benefits, so it’s possible our paths crossed. If that’s it, she made no impression. I’ll go by my office later and check my files. But I’m good at remembering patients’ faces, and hers just isn’t one I know.”
    Chauncey played with his pen, rolling it around on his finger. “Look, Dan, the prosecutor didn’t give me too many details of his case this morning. We’ll hear some of the evidence at the preliminary hearing, but I’d like to put that off as long as possible. He did say there’s material evidence that places you at the scene of the crime.”
    He paused to let that sink in. Dan just rubbed his eyes.
    “An eyewitness connected you with the victim,” Chauncey continued, speaking slowly. “She saw you going into the apartment — and Tasha turned up dead in her bedroom less than an hour later.”
    His tone was so matter-of-fact he might have been talking about the price of shirts at Brooks Brothers. So maybe I’d heard wrong. Because if Chauncey had announced that someone saw Dan in the dead girl’s apartment, wouldn’t there be screeching violins and quick cuts of shocked faces? Hadn’t anyone seen The Maltese Falcon ?
    “It’s impossible,” Dan said finally. “I don’t even know the victim. I couldn’t have been in her bedroom.”
    “What’s the motive supposed to have been?” I asked in a small voice.
    Chauncey put down his pen. “We may not hear anything about motive until the trial. But I’d say the prosecutor has a couple of ways to go. Dan’s a plastic surgeon accused of killing a young actress. The obvious answer is surgery gone wrong or sex gone wrong.”
    “But I didn’t —”
    “I know,” said Chauncey, interrupting Dan before he could offer another denial. “But let’s think along those lines.” He asked some questions about Dan’s schedule, the number of patients he saw, and the amount of time he spent at home. He got the names of various doctors and nurses Dan worked with at the hospital and asked about malpractice cases.
    “None that I’ve lost and