Laura Caldwell - Red Blooded Murder

With a burst, I knew I had to do something-something different-and that thought had propelled me to the bathroom with a pair of large scissors I normally used for cutting open packages. Saying a silent apology to my stylist, I gathered a hunk of the offending hair in my hands. And I sliced.

I regretted immediately. You always do. Now, I feared what other irrational acts I’d attempt to tamp my nervousness.

In the first draft of the book, Izzy wasn’t questioned as extensively immediately following Jane’s murder, and originally, I hadn’t intended on bringing back the detective from Red Hot Lies. This passage was the first indication Izzy had that the police were looking at her as something more than a witness.

My cell phone rang. I stared at the display. It was a 773 number that I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Isabel McNeil?”

“Yes.”

“This is Sergeant Thompson from CPD.” Chicago Police Department.

“Yes?” I swallowed a lick of fear that swept up my throat and filled my nostrils so that it seemed I couldn’t air inside my body. When Sam was missing, I’d started fearing calls from the authorities. That fear had not gone away.

“We’re calling about Jane Augustine,” the sergeant said. “I work with Detective Light. We’d like you to come in for additional questioning.”

My heart rate soared toward the sky, a little airplane. Then I remembered that I had a best girlfriend who was a criminal defense lawyer.

“Am I charged with anything?” I asked, knowing I wasn’t. Maggie always said that the Chicago Police generally didn’t give a head’s up before an arrest. Besides, what did I have to fear?

Sergeant Thompson said nothing at first. “We’d need to talk to you some more. We’d like you to come to the station.” He rattled off the Belmont police station address and handy instructions on how to get there from the station. Apparently, he knew exactly where I was.

I heard Maggie in my head-Don’t speak to the cops. Never talk to them unless they arrest you.

But I wasn’t that great at listening to instructions. “I’d be happy to talk to you by phone.” I threw in, “I’m a lawyer.” It felt false, funny. I didn’t practice law anymore, and I didn’t know much about the criminal arena.

Sergeant Thompson paused. “We understand you were with Jane this past weekend? Before you found her.”

“Yes, I saw Jane a few times. We went out to Nomi on Friday night. I saw her coffee the next morning, and also that night.”

“You two normally spend that much time together?” The question sounded slightly accusatory.

“No. But on Friday, Jane had asked me to work with her at Trial TV.”

“And did you plan on attending the Trial TV bash on Monday night?” He spoke the word bash with disdain, as if he were discussing an orgy.

“Yes. I was supposed to meet Jane there.”

“Seems like you saw her more than anyone in those days before she died.” Now there was no denying it, there was some kind of accusation there.

I could hear Maggie’s voice-It doesn’t matter if you’re innocent! They’ll make it look like you’re not. Maggie would tell me not to talk to them at all, but there was no way I could stay silent, no way I couldn’t help somehow with the investigation into Jane’s death.

“Is there any reason I should have a lawyer?”

“Course not.” He answered quickly this time. “We’re just talking.

Laura Caldwell is a Chicago-based lawyer turned novelist. Her first book, Burning the Map, was selected by Barnes & Noble.com as one of The Best of 2002. Following that, A Clean Slate received a starred review from Booklist. The release of The Year of Living Famously and The Night I Got Lucky prompted Booklist to declare, “ Caldwell is one of the most talented and inventive…writers around.”