B004183M70 EBOK (10 page)

"Don't even think of laying a hand on
me," I commanded, ready to kick him where it hurt.

"Did I hear my name? And your voice,
Miss Bennett?"

Detective Finelli, glowering, came out from
the depths of the station house. I scurried past the mean desk clerk and
hastened over. Detective Finelli and I had become acquainted—although he hadn't
liked it— on a previous murder case I had managed to solve.

Reaching him, I barely refrained from
grabbing the lapels of his gray suit. "Detective Finelli, they've got Mr.
Williams locked up for something he didn't do! Get the key and release
him."

"I can't do that." The detective
ran a hand back and forth across his brown crew cut, a gesture of frustration
I remembered well.

"Why? You know he's innocent."

"I don't know anything of the kind,
Miss Bennett I was at the scene a few hours ago, and your boss was the one with
the dead body. I'm sorry, but it looks clear to me that he killed her, though I
will investigate the crime."

"You'll investigate? That's a good
idea. Then you can find out who really did Suzie in."

"Miss Bennett, Miss Wexford was a
celebrity known across America for her modeling. Her personal life was public
knowledge. For instance, there was a picture of her and Williams at that
photographer's party in the Times."

"That's just gossip," I tried.

"Are you saying to me, an officer of
the law, that you have no knowledge of Bradley Williams and Suzie Wexford
having had a personal relationship in addition to their business relationship?"

"No," I said.

The detective spread his hands.
"Williams had the opportunity—we found him crouched over the body— and as
for a motive, maybe a lovers' quarrel. I'll find out. Meantime, no
visitors."

Oh, dear God! In a calm, reasonable voice
like Mama used when she wanted to guilt someone into doing something they
didn't want to do, I said, "Detective Finelli, Mr. Williams called me,
and I'd like to see him, please. I'm aware that what I'm asking you might be
against the rules, but because I know you to be a good man, I'm asking you to
bend the rules a tiny bit, since I assisted your department in bringing the
Philip Royal murder investigation to a successful conclusion." I took a
really deep breath and waited.

"Catholic girl, aren't you? You sound
exactly like my mother," he said. "Come on, but just fifteen minutes,
do you understand me?"

"Yes, thank you."

We walked down a dingy beige hall; then
another officer let us into the cell area with a key.

Detective Finelli turned to face me, his
voice low. "I've told you more than I should have regarding this case, but
I did it for a reason. You're not going to get mixed up in this, are you, Miss
Bennett? No breaking and entering, no questioning of suspects, no putting
yourself in danger?"

"You seem to think you have the killer
already, so how could I be putting myself in harm's way?" I asked, eyes
wide.

"Don't give me that innocent look. I
know what you're capable of."

"Aw, you flatter me, sir," I
said, exaggerating my Southern accent.

Detective Finelli patted the white
handkerchief he always had tucked in the breast pocket of his suit. "I want your promise, Miss Bennett, that you will not interfere
with police matters like you did before. Otherwise I won't let you see your
boss."

Naturally, I crossed my fingers behind my
back. "I won't interfere like I did before." Because this time will
be different. That was an effective way of putting it to the good detective, I
thought, though I knew I'd have to jot this lie down in my notebook under the
"Confession" section.

"I'll hold you to that statement, Miss
Bennett," he said with a skeptical look. "Mr. Williams is in a holding
cell with lots of company. I warn you, it won't be hearts and flowers."

I gasped. "Do you mean you've got him
locked up with common criminals?"

"Unless his lawyer can call in a favor
with the judge on a Sunday, Williams will be our guest." Throwing open yet
another steel door, Detective Finelli entered first, holding the heavy door for
me. "Not a place for you, Miss Bennett," he tried one last time.

That made me determined to show him I could
be tough. I marched inside like I had a gun strapped to my garter, like a James
Bond girl would.

In a large square cell, men in varying
degrees of dirt and quality of clothing slumbered on the cement floor, some
snoring. The room smelled like sweat and alcohol and maybe something else.
Eeewww.

And there, in the middle of the filth and
stench, standing against the back wall wearing an expensive slate-blue suit,
white shirt, and narrow tie, was Bradley, a swan among the ugly ducklings. His
rumpled hair, five-a.m. shadow, and fingers massaging the bridge of his nose were the only outward signs of any
distress. I fought back tears. Bradley needed me to be strong.

I heard Detective Finelli say he would sit
in a chair and remain during my visit "for your own protection."

"Mr. Williams?" I said, going up
to the iron bars.

He raised his golden head and looked at me.

I was shocked at the grief in his eyes,
never having considered that he would be feeling the loss of Suzie.

But of course he would, I mentally kicked myself. They had
been . . . involved.

At the sound of a female voice, two of his
cell mates woke and began saying vulgar things to and about me. Bradley pushed
himself away from the wall and growled, "Leave her alone unless you want a
shiner."

That shut them up, but they still stared at
me. I didn't care.

Bradley came up to the bars until we were
mere inches apart. His eyes were red, probably from lack of sleep.

In a low voice he said, "Miss Bennett,
what the hell are you doing in a place like this? I called you to get me an
attorney, not to come down here looking as fresh as a daffodil and about as
innocent."

Innocent! Maybe it was time to start
changing Bradley's view of me. I flung my arms through the bars, wrapped my
hands around his neck, and pulled him toward me. I pressed a kiss on his
forehead and then brushed my lips softly over the same spot.

As if nothing had happened, I released him,
over the cries and whistles of the other two inmates who were awake. "Are
you going to treat me like an adult and tell me what happened, so I can help
you out of this mess you've gotten yourself into?" I kept the pitch of my
voice completely professional.

Bradley's normally cool composure stayed in
place. Still keeping his voice low, he said, "You are the sweetest, most
adorable little pain in the neck I've ever known."

I smiled. "Why, thank you."

"Did you call a lawyer?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I called
a lawyer. Or rather, I called Stu Daniels; you remember him—"

"Yes."

"I figured he would know the best
criminal lawyer in the city."

"Good thinking, Miss Bennett."

"Stu promised to get someone over here
quickly."

"Excellent. I could use a cup of your
coffee." He tried to smile, and when he did, I felt a powerful urge to
tell him I loved him and that everything would be okay. Fortunately, I got hold
of myself before the words came out. Besides, what if everything didn't turn
out okay? Dear God!

"I'd certainly like to make you a pot
of coffee. You look like you could drink the whole thing. Want to tell me what
happened, since I'm here?"

Talking to the floor, Bradley said,
"We went out to dinner at the 21 Club. Suzie was tired from standing on
her feet all day, so we skipped dancing. Instead we lingered over dinner,
discussing her future plans with the agency. I officially gave her the Durden
account— you know, the important swimsuit shoot set for the Virgin Islands next
week?" He glanced up at me.

"Yes." Boy, was that another plum
assignment! Suzie would make thousands off that job—or she would have if she
had lived. I wondered if Lola had been hoping for the job.

"We'll have to find someone else
now," Bradley muttered.

"Don't worry, Mr. Williams; I'll start
on it today. What happened after dinner?" I managed to ask without my
voice breaking.

He hesitated. "We went to Suzie's
place for, er, a nightcap." He glanced at me again, and when I kept my
expression neutral, he looked at the floor again and went on. "The hours went
by, and Suzie asked me to go out for something."

"What?" I asked, wondering what
she could want at what was surely by then two in the morning.

He straightened and looked me in the eye.
"Miss Bennett, I don't know that I should be telling you all this—"

"Don't be silly. What did you go out
for?"

He mumbled something.

"What did you say?"

"Chocolate syrup."

I tilted my head. "So you were making
sundaes; what's wrong with that?" Then my brain flashed back to something
Darlene had told me once when we were talking about guys. Ooooh! I made a mental note: Once Bradley
and I were married, I'd keep Hershey's in business.

Bradley ran his right index finger down the
side of my left cheek. "Nothing, kid. Anyway, when I got back to Suzie's
apartment, I found her on the floor of the living room. The killer had
strangled her with that Pucci scarf you wrapped for me."

"Yes, I remember."

"Someone had called the police, a
neighbor. Maybe Suzie screamed. . . . God, I could use that coffee."

"And that's when the police found you
with her?" I asked, remembering that the officer had told me Suzie had
been naked with a fur coat thrown over her.

He nodded. "Yes. I just don't get it,
kid. Who would want to kill Suzie?"

Oh, boy, could I give him a laundry list of
people, but now was not the time. I heard the big door to the cell area open,
and Officer Lonegan entered with a tall, thin gentleman carrying a briefcase.
He reminded me of illustrations of the character Jeeves from the P. G.
Wodehouse books I'd read, with slicked-back black hair, a fair complexion, and
very dark brown eyes. I hoped he was as clever as Jeeves.

Officer Lonegan said, "Williams,
here's your lawyer, Mr. Pickering."

"That's David Pickering,
Esquire," the lawyer intoned with an English accent, looking down his long
nose.

My mouth dropped open. He was English!
Maybe he would be like Jeeves and have Bradley out of jail in the blink of an
eye. Stu wouldn't have sent just any lawyer.

Mr. Pickering eyed Bradley, nodded as if he
would do; then his gaze dropped to me before he settled his attention on
Detective Finelli.

A grim expression crossed the detective's
face before he stood, shook hands with the lawyer, and said, "Mr.
Pickering, nice seeing you again."

"Good morning, Detective Finelli. How
is your family?"

"Fine, thank you. The boys are a trial
for the wife."

Mr. Pickering allowed a faint smile to
cross his lips. "Boys of five and seven will do that to a woman."

This was new information for me. I had
suspected that Detective Finelli possessed a family, but he'd never mentioned
sons. I guessed that Mr. Pickering and Detective Finelli had been on opposing
sides previously, and, from the look on the detective's face, he had not always
been the winner.

"You will, of course, provide Mr.
Williams and myself with the privacy of a conference room, so that I might
become acquainted with him." He turned to Bradley. "That is, if you
are amenable to the plan, Mr. Williams."

"Mr. Pickering, I'm amenable to
anything that will get me out of here," Bradley said.

I looked at him and smiled, trying to
broadcast the message that this man was here to help and now was not the time
for masculine competition.

With a start, I realized Mr. Pickering had
turned his sharp gaze on me. "I see from your bare left hand, miss, that
you are not Mrs. Williams. May I ask who you are, and what you are doing
here?"

Bradley spoke before I could answer.
"I'm not married. Miss Bennett is my executive secretary and the friend
of Stu Daniels who contacted him."

"Nice to meet you, Mr.
Pickering," I said, and turned to Bradley. "Mr. Williams, I'll be at
the office working on plans for that photo shoot we discussed. You can reach me
there once you've been released." These last words were directed at Mr.
Pickering.

Officer Lonegan led me from the room, back
down the hall, and to the exit.

"Looks like your boyfriend will get
out after all," the officer said. "Pickering will arrange bail. He's
a big shot at the courthouse and knows all the judges."

With my hand on the doorknob to freedom, I
said, "Mr. Williams will be released and cleared because he didn't kill
anyone."

"Tell it to the judge, lady."

CHAPTER EIGHT