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

so far before they hit the wall. It was okay to come from Rainier Valley and go to Mercer Island as assistant coach, but not head coach."
    "There were problems, racial problems?"
    "Some."
    "And you think your husband’s death may be racially motivated."
    "Don’t you?" she asked in return.
    I could tell she was concealing something, hiding what she really meant behind her curt answers, her troubled gaze. Finally, biting her lip, she dropped her eyes and sat looking down at the bulge of baby in her lap.
    At last she looked back up at us. "Is that all?" she asked. "My guests are waiting."
    It wasn’t all. It was a hell of a long way from being all, but we had reached an impasse, a place beyond which progress was impossible until Peters and I had more to go on.
    "For the time being," I said, rising. Peters followed. I handed her my card. "Here’s my name and numbers. Call if you remember something else you think we need to know."
    She took it from my hand and dropped it onto the desk without looking at it. Her expression said that I shouldn’t hold my breath.
    When she made no offer to get up, I said, "We can find our way out."
    She nodded, and we left.
    "We said something that pissed her off," Peters mused as we climbed into the car. "I don’t know exactly what it was."
     
    "She lied," I told him.
    "I know, but why?"
    "There must have been phone calls, or at least, one call. And then later, when I asked her about what she said last night. That was all a smoke screen."
    Peters nodded. "I thought as much."
    There was a brief silence in the car. In my mind’s eye I played back the entire conversation, trying to recall each nuance, every inflection. Peters was doing the same thing.
    "Something else bothered me," Peters said.
    "What’s that?"
    "The part about her not going to the games, not liking basketball."
    "Karen wasn’t wild about homicide," I said. "Wives aren’t required to adore whatever it is their husbands do."
    "Point taken. So what now? Run a routine check on her?"
    "Sounds reasonable."
    "By the way," Peters added, "how come you didn’t mention she was pregnant last night?"
    "Didn’t I?"
    "No."
    "I must be getting old. The mind’s going."
    Peters chuckled, and there was another short silence. "I hope she’s not the one," he said at last. "She seems like such a nice lady."
    "Appearances can be deceiving," I said.
     
    I felt Peters’ sharp, appraising look. "Ain’t that the truth!" he said.
    I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Anne Corley had taught me that much.
    In spades.
     

CHAPTER
  7

    We took the signed search form back to the Public Safety Building and hand-carried it through the process. Once it had crossed all required desks and swum upstream through all necessary channels, we followed the State Patrol’s criminalists into the processing room.
    Over the years, you get used to the unexpected. When you’re dealing with homicide, there’s no telling what’ll turn up in the victim’s vehicle--the murder weapon, incriminating evidence, perhaps even another victim. That’s happened to me more than once.
    Peters and I had already seen what was in the car itself, but we were most curious about what might be hidden out of sight in the trunk. We were prepared for anything, except for what we found--a trunkful of Girl Scout cookies. Fifteen boxes in all.
     
    We weren’t the only ones who were surprised. It set the guy from the crime lab on his ass as well. "I’ll be damned!" he said.
    He conducted a quick inventory: Five Mints, three Carmel Delights, three Peanut Butter Patties, two Lemon Creams, and two Short Bread. The entire selection. If there was a hidden message concealed in the variety of cookies, the pattern eluded us.
    On the other hand, the contents of the athletic bag turned out to be quite revealing--sweats, a clean shirt, a change of underwear and socks, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bottle of Chaps. Darwin Ridley had intended to smell good, if not during the game, then certainly