Murder on the Potomac by Margaret Truman Read Free Book Online Page B

“Obviously, we’ll have more questions for you. I trust you don’t have travel plans in the near future.”
    Tierney smiled, a perfect set of white teeth mademore so by the tan of his face. “As a matter of fact, I do. Are you telling me I’m not to leave town?”
    “That would be a good idea,” she said.
    Tierney asked Smith, “What do you think of this, Counselor?”
    Smith shrugged. “I’m not your attorney, Wendell.”
    “Maybe we should rectify that.”
    “I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Smith spoke to Eikenberg: “You aren’t really suggesting that Mr. Tierney cancel important business travel, are you? Is he a suspect?”
    “Mr. Tierney is important to the resolution of this case, just as others are,” she answered. Diplomatic, Smith thought, to not confirm suspect status. He stared at her. She smiled and said, “Mr. Tierney—who is not your client—is free to travel, provided he lets me know in advance of his plans.”
    “No problem,” Tierney said. “Nothing extensive. Just one, maybe two, overnight trips.”
    Tierney showed the officers out of the house. When he returned, he came up behind Smith and kneaded his shoulders. “I loved it, Mac, the way she backed down about me traveling when you confronted her.”
    Smith winced, not at the pressure exerted by Tierney’s fingers but because he didn’t like people who gave massages without invitation. He slid out of the chair and went to a window overlooking the river, watching a small red boat moving fast downriver. He turned and faced Tierney. “Well, here I am, Wendell. What can I do for you?”
    “What you just did a few minutes ago. Keep me out of this.”
    Smith shoved his hands in his pockets and leanedagainst the sill. “There is no one who can, as you put it, keep you out of it. You and Pauline worked closely together for years. It’s my understanding that she was like a member of the family. As pleasantly as Detective Eikenberg put it, you are a suspect.”
    “Nonsense,” Tierney said, touching a spot on a paneled wall that caused doors to open. Behind was a fully stocked liquor cabinet. “Drink?” he asked without looking back.
    “Thanks, no,” Smith said. “I really should be going.”
    “Not yet.” Then, as though realizing he was in no position to make demands, he added, “Please. Just a few more minutes.”
    “A three-minute splash of bourbon on the rocks.”
    Seated across from each other, Tierney leaned forward, elbows on knees, and fixed Smith in a compelling stare. “Mac, let me level with you. Pauline’s murder is going to have a dreadful impact on a lot of people, including me.”
    Smith said nothing. Silently, he wondered at Tierney’s coldness. His closest aide and family friend had been found murdered only hours earlier. Yet he mentioned it only in terms of its potential impact upon him.
    Smith’s silence prompted Tierney to continue. “Pauline’s long tenure with me has naturally brought her into close contact with everyone with whom I deal, including my family. There have been occasional problems over the years where they’re concerned.”
    “Your family?”
    “Yes.”
    “What sort of problems?”
    Tierney sat back and thought before replying. “Nothing major, Mac, but there have been times whenPauline’s—how shall I say it?—when Pauline’s curt, abrasive manner rubbed people the wrong way.”
    “Marilyn?” Smith asked, referring to Tierney’s wife.
    Tierney nodded. “The point is,” he said, “Marilyn and I have been traveling a rocky road these days. That’s between us, of course. To compound that, I’m involved in some sensitive deals that could be crucial to the future of Tierney Development. They demand my full attention. I can’t afford interruptions.”
    Smith considered whether to say it, then decided what the hell. “Wendell, I’m hearing you voice concerns about a lot of things. I haven’t once heard you talk about the tragedy that occurred last night.”
    His