John Lescroart - The Suspect

Oddly aware of her own crisp and echoing footfalls as she walked down the long hallway to the receptionist's station, Gina got to the lobby and pasted the semblance of a smile onto her face as she approached Stuart with her hand outstretched. "Good morning," she chirruped, falsely bright. "And right on time."

"Aiming to please," he said in his aw-shucks delivery, though it seemed to cost him. Stuart had shaved, combed his hair and put on nicer clothes-slacks and a pullover-but he looked, if anything, more ravaged than he had the day before, bleary-eyed and sallow complected. "The police show up yet?"

"Not for a while. If you want to follow me back this way…"

She wanted to avoid idle chitchat, so she turned and started walking. They reached her office and she preceded him through the door and crossed over to the ergonomic chair by the library table on which she kept her computer. Sitting down, she whirled around to face him. He was standing a couple of steps inside the room, hands in his pockets, reminding her of nothing so much as a dog waiting to be told what to do. She obliged him. "You want to get the door?"

That done, he turned back to the room. "Anywhere?" he asked.

She waved her hand. "Wherever. It doesn't matter."

He chose the couch, perhaps because it was facing her. Sitting back, ankle on opposite knee, he stretched his left arm out along the cushions and leaned back. "So," he said.

"So." Gina wasn't tempted to give him any help, but she waited for a long beat and when nothing came from him, she relented. Whatever he had actually done-and she was furious with him over what that might have been-he was the man she'd been reading last night, who had stirred something in her soul. "You tired?" she asked. "You look tired."

His shoulders heaved as though the question were funny. But there was no humor in the eyes. "I take a week off and sleep around the clock, I might get back to tired. But that's not looking too likely, is it? Not with Inspector Juhle on his way down here."

"Not very, no. You want some coffee?"

He shook his head. "I'm already three cups down. Any more and I'd float away. Anyway, it's nothing coffee would help."

Thinking that this might be an opening of some kind, maybe even a confession, Gina said, "So what is it?"

He exhaled heavily and shook his head, the picture of frustration. "Kym," he said. "My daughter. Our daughter." He met Gina's gaze. "You have kids?"

"No."

"Don't, then."

Gina gave a mirthless chuckle. "It's a little late. In any event, they're not on the agenda; I wouldn't worry. She's taking this pretty hard, is she?"

Stuart pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know what to do with her. I don't know what to do." Looking up, he said, "It's knocked her off the rails." Another sigh. "She and Caryn had some issues they hadn't worked out, and now of course they never will. When she left for college it wasn't very pretty between them. That's not making it any easier on her now."

"No, I don't suppose it is. Where is she now?"

"I left her back at the hotel. She cried all night and finally crashed sometime around six this morning, so I thought I'd just let her sleep. She ought to be all right for a few hours anyway." He hesitated. "Debra came by early, just in case, and said she'd stay until Kym woke up and be there for her. But this is killing Kym. I don't know what she's going to do. I don't know what I'm going to do with her."

Gina decided to douse him with a little reality. "Stuart," she said. "Did you tell her that you're under suspicion here?"

He couldn't have looked more startled if she'd slapped him, though he recovered quickly. "After you called me last night, I told her I was meeting you to talk with the cops today. So she knows as far as it goes. Which isn't very far. Today ought to be the end of it, right?"

Gina was tempted to ask him if he was joking with her, but she kept it straight. "Frankly, no, Stuart. I don't think today's going to be the end of it. There have been a few developments."

"Bethany said she saw me? How could she have seen me?"

"She said she saw your car."

"She saw me pull into my garage?"

"Yes. Then leave a couple of hours later."

"So she saw Caryn's killer come and then go."

"That would be Inspector Juhle's assumption, I believe. And he came in your car."

"No he didn't. Not possible."

Deep inside, Gina was somewhat heartened by the unequivocal denial. Either Stuart was an extraordinarily good liar, or he was telling the truth. "Okay, leaving the car for a minute, let's talk about you and your wife not fighting, specifically about you never having hit her."

"Okay." Forward now on the couch, Stuart's blood was up. "What about 'never' don't you get?"

"I guess the part about the domestic disturbance call to the police last summer."

Stuart grimaced. "They found that already?"

"That's one question. A better one is, what about it? And as for them finding out about it already, I told you yesterday that they're going to find out everything about you, every little thing you've ever done, and they're going to drag it in front of the whole world, so it's way to your advantage to come out with it right up front-anything that's going to look bad when they bring it up later. Like, for example, hitting your wife."

The little tirade found its mark. Stuart shifted defensively back on the couch-legs crossed, arm out along the cushions, stalling for time while he decided what he was going to say. When he made the decision, he kept it simple. "I never hit her."

"She hit you?"

"No."

"But the cops came?"

"My busybody neighbor called them." A pause. "There might have been some noise. I did tell you we'd had some arguments."

"So you had this one time last summer when the police came?"

"And left. They just wanted to make sure nobody was hurt." He shrugged. "Nobody was. They went away. End of story."

Gina stared at him, her face set. "Okay. And that's it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, is there anything else you think might be relevant to Inspector Juhle's ongoing investigation of you, Stuart, that your lawyer, if she wanted to protect you, might need to know?" Gina's tone had by degrees become more confrontational. Now she glared expectantly across the room and watched her client pretend to think until she could stand it no more. "You need a hint?" she snapped. "I could give you a hint."

He sat there, frowning. "Let me ask you something. Why are you being so hostile all of a sudden?" he asked. "What's that about?"

Gina couldn't come up with an answer right away. She sat back in her chair, gathering herself for a moment, before she finally said, "I read one of your books last night."

"The whole thing?"

"In one sitting, yes. Healed by Water. I liked it a lot." Stuart's mouth turned up at the corners. "I didn't realize you knew that I wrote books."

"I'm your lawyer," Gina said. "I know everything. Get used to it."

"And that's what's bothering you? That you liked my book?"

"Not exactly," she said evenly, "but since you asked, I'm mad if your beautiful book conned me and you're really guilty. I feel personally abused when I find out an eyewitness saw your car coming and going just about when Caryn was killed. I can't figure out why you've got all these anger issues when you write about such spiritual, holistic stuff. I'm really pissed off if you're in fact sleeping with your wife's sister. I'm furious if you're as good a liar as you are a writer. I'm confused about your lack of reaction to your wife's death. I'm baffled and confused by cops coming to break up fights at your house when you say you've never hit your wife. Is that enough?"

"I can explain-"

"Not just yet, please." Her jaw jutted. "So yes, I think we can say that something is bothering me, that I'm a little bit hostile. And while I'm on it, I'm not in the habit of letting myself get fooled by men. I had a damn fine man for a good while there and I got used to it. So I'm afraid my guard might be down, and that makes me mad too. How's all that?"