Smash Cut by Sandra Brown Read Free Book Online

would remain his secret.
He sincerely hoped.
“Anything new from the DA’s office on Jason Connor?” he asked. The sixteen-year-old stood accused of killing in cold blood his mother and stepfather. Because of the brutality of the crime, he was being tried as an adult.
“I called over there, asked again for the discovery file. Got the usual runaround.”
“They’re stonewalling. Call and tell them I’m back, and I want the damn file.” The trial date was fast approaching, and his young client faced execution if found guilty. “Has anyone talked to Jason recently?”
“Yesterday.” She told him that one of his assistants on the case had gone to the jail. “He saw him. They didn’t talk . The boy remained mute.”
“Was he told that I can’t help him if he doesn’t help himself?”
“He was.”
Derek made a mental note to go see the boy as soon as his schedule permitted, and to impress upon him that he was in dire straits. He picked up the stack of pink memos representing calls he needed to return. On the first one Marlene had printed in bold, red letters: Ask me .
He picked it up and waved it at her. “I’m asking.”
“While you were gone, you missed some excitement. Paul Wheeler—”
“Who’s that?”
“Wheeler Enterprises.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “That Wheeler?”
“That Wheeler. Money out the wazoo. He was shot and killed in the Hotel Moultrie. Lots of media. Large funeral. Unidentified culprit is still at large.”
He whistled and referred to the memo. “So who’s Doug?”
“Brother and business partner of the deceased.”
“The plot thickens.”
“He’s called three times over the last two days. Says it’s urgent he meet with you immediately upon your return.”
“How come?”
“Wouldn’t say.”
He was bone tired, he suspected he smelled none too fresh, and he was in a sour mood. But he liked the sound of this. Already his juices were bubbling. “Can he be here in an hour?”

    Doug Wheeler looked the part of exactly what he was, a successful businessman. He was fiftyish and well maintained, although as he entered Derek’s office he looked like a man with a lot on his mind. His handshake, however, was dry and firm.
“I understand you’ve just returned from a trip abroad.”
“Paris. I came here straight from the airport. Which accounts for my rumpled appearance. I apologize.” Derek felt particularly disheveled in contrast to Wheeler, who was immaculately dressed and groomed.
“No apology necessary, Mr. Mitchell. I’m just happy you agreed to see me today.”
Derek motioned him into a chair. In the center of the furniture grouping was a coffee table, on which Marlene had set a tray with an ice bucket, two glasses, and bottles of water. He preferred meeting with clients in the seating area rather than from behind his desk.
“Help yourself, Mr. Wheeler.”
Wheeler shook his head.
“My assistant, Ms. Sullivan, told me about your brother,” Derek said as he poured himself a Perrier. “I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you. It was ghastly.”
“It was. She provided me a thumbnail sketch of what happened, but I didn’t have time to read all the newspaper stories. Do you feel like talking about it?”
Derek listened for the next five minutes while Doug Wheeler related what he knew about the fatal shooting. Derek noted that it had occurred on the day he left for France.
Wheeler ended with “That’s my knowledge of it, based on what Julie and the others who were in the elevator told the police.”
“Julie’s the woman who was with your brother when it happened?”
“Yes.” Wheeler reached for one of the bottles of water, uncapped it, and took a drink.
Marlene had referred to Julie Rutledge as Wheeler’s mistress. Derek wondered if her relationship with Paul Wheeler had caused the family any embarrassment. He assumed by Doug Wheeler’s obvious reluctance to elaborate on it that it had.
“The culprit hasn’t been identified?”
Wheeler shook his head.
“Ms. Sullivan told me that the police don’t seem to have any real leads.”
“As of this morning, no.”
“Who’s