When Rain Falls by Tyora M. Moody Read Free Book Online Page A

from behind the door. What was going on in there? He didn’t have long to wait. Mr. Harris’s door sprang open. The office occupant stormed out of the office, her eyes blazing. Surprised, Darnell stood. “Mrs. Johnson?” What in the world was she doing there? He stepped in her path.
    Stopping mid-step, Candace froze. “Detective, good. You’re here. So you have something on Mitch?” Her eyes gazed expectantly at him.
    â€œMrs. Johnson ...”
    â€œCandace. Call me Candace.” A half smile edged across her face.
    The facial gesture threw him. She really was a pretty woman. Who should be home, mourning, not creating havoc in his investigation. “Okay, Candace. Give me a chance to question Mr. Harris. You know the rules, innocent until proven guilty.”
    â€œI know that.”
    â€œCandace, go home. Let me take care of this.” Darnell caught sight of Hillary behind Candace. The woman nodded and stepped forward.
    â€œDetective, let me take care of Candace. I will make sure she gets on her way okay?” Hillary said.
    He stood for a moment, watching Hillary place her arm around Candace and escort her out of the office. He certainly hoped Candace Johnson didn’t intend to be a problem. That was all he needed.
    Mitch Harris stepped from behind the desk and stuck his hand out. “Detective, to what do I owe this visit? I hope Mrs. Johnson hasn’t put any ideas in your head.”
    Interesting way to start the conversation. He wondered what Candace had said to the man. Darnell grabbed the man’s hand. He stood an inch or two taller than Darnell’s six-foot frame. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Harris. I do hope we can talk about Pamela Coleman and her activities during the last week or so before her death.”
    Mitch Harris lowered his eyes and beckoned Darnell toward a plush burgundy wingback chair. “Yes. Have a seat please. This has been disturbing.”
    Darnell decided to stand for a bit. He scanned the massive office space; law books lined ceiling-height bookshelves. Fascinated by an African statue on one shelf, he walked over to touch it. “Wow, this is nice. Where is it from?”
    â€œWell, thank you.” Mr. Harris eyed Darnell as the detective rubbed the statue. “I’ve had the opportunity to travel a good bit. That particular piece hails from Ghana.”
    In what was kind of an unusual setup for an office, elaborate masks lined a wall opposite the bookshelves. Sometimes the wealth that people had bothered him. Not that he ever wanted to be rich. He just couldn’t get over what people considered treasures. Darnell murmured under his breath.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    Darnell cleared his throat. “Did you have any concerns about Pamela before her death?”
    â€œPamela was like a daughter to me. You know her dad, Judge Coleman, was my mentor—”
    Darnell interrupted. “Really?”
    â€œI watched her grow up. Very ambitious player here in our firm. Last week she was pretty consumed by a case, more than usual, so I tried to check in with her often during the day.”
    A photo on the wall caught his attention. Judge Coleman on one side, Mitch Harris on the other. Pamela stood in the middle. “So, you are close to the Coleman family and Pamela?”
    â€œWe travel in the same circles.”
    â€œI understand you and others in the firm attended an art gallery reception last night.”
    â€œYes, quite a few of us attended. Grand event. The owner is a client, recently represented by Pamela. I do remember seeing Pamela looking at the paintings. I lost track of her, though. We didn’t get a chance to speak.”
    Darnell had the feeling Mr. Harris tracked Pamela’s every move and knew her more intimately than he was letting on. Hard to believe one of his top lawyers attended an event and he didn’t speak to her. On the wall, Darnell recognized a younger version of Mitch and Pamela,