Trial by Fury by J. A. Jance Read Free Book Online

racially motivated?"
    "As I said before, Mr. Cole, at this time we have no motive in this crime. The exact cause of death is being withheld pending investigation."
    "But wouldn’t you say lynching is a step backward to the Ku Klux Klan mentality of the sixties?"
    "I wouldn’t say anything of the kind."
    "You’re ruling out race as a possible motive, then?"
    I was glad Arlo was running the press conference instead of me. About then I would have told Max to fuck off. Hamilton managed to remain unruffled. "We are investigating all possibilities at this time. No potential lead will be ignored, racial or otherwise."
    Arlo glanced around the room, hoping to shut Max down by calling someone else. Max blithely launched into another question.
    "Two years ago, during the height of the Neo-Nazi scare, there was talk of creating an all-white preserve here in Washington. Could this action be connected with one of those groups?"
    "As you know, Mr. Cole, members of those groups were apprehended, tried, and found guilty of numerous crimes. Those who didn’t die during the initial siege of their headquarters are in prison for long terms. I don’t think we need worry that Mr. Ridley’s death is part of a Neo-Nazi plot. Any other questions?"
    Fortunately, someone else raised his hand, and Hamilton gratefully acknowledged him. "Were police officers in attendance at the basketball championships in Seattle Center Friday night?"
    Hamilton nodded.
    "The Mayor’s office has been concerned about special event security at the Center. Has security been beefed up?"
    "Yes, it has. The horse patrol was there as well as several officers patrolling the grounds on foot. None of them saw anything out of line."
    "You’re saying that it wasn’t a lack of security?"
    "Look, you guys, give me a break. Don’t read between the lines. We had numerous officers at the Center, but until we know exactly what happened, I can’t say whether it was a security problem or not."
    It was clear the newshounds had Arlo’s scent. There was no need for Peters and me to hang around for the bloodletting. I reached over and tapped Peters on the shoulder. "Let’s get out of here."
    He followed me to the door. I didn’t notice that Maxwell Cole had trailed after us until he showed up at the elevator lobby. Everything about Max is big, from the layer of flab that spills over the top of his belt buckle up to and including his ego. He wears a waxed, handlebar mustache that tends to be littered with bits and pieces of his most recent meal--egg yolk in this particular case.
    "How’s it going, J. P.? You two working this one? I saw you hanging around the briefing room."
    "Look, Max, we’ve got a long day ahead of us. Get lost."
    "Come on, J. P. Give an old fraternity brother a break. All I need is an angle. Race would be dynamite. It would bust this town wide open."
    I try not to deal with Maxwell Cole in anything but absolute contempt. Lesser insults go straight over his head. "We’re booked up already, Max. We don’t need you to start a race war just to keep us busy."
    The elevator door slipped open. We got on and left him standing there in the hallway. "Think he got it?" Peters asked once the door closed.
    "Beats the hell out of me."
     
    We went on down to the garage and checked out a car. The first order of business had to be the voluntary search form from Joanna Ridley. That would enable the crime lab to go to work on Darwin Ridley’s Buick.
    Several cars were parked on the street outside Joanna Ridley’s house, including an immense old Lincoln. I led the way to the door and rang the bell. A tall but stoop-shouldered black man opened the door and peered down at us through gold-rimmed glasses. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked.
    "We’re with Seattle P.D.," I said, offering him my ID. "We’re here to speak to Mrs. Ridley."
    "Joanna’s not feelin’ too well."
    Joanna Ridley appeared in a doorway behind him, wearing a flowing blue caftan. Her eyes were