Sandra Brown - Ricochet

“That’s not the usual reaction, Judge,” Duncan said slowly. “The husband may be the last to know, but he usually wants to know.”

“Knowing wouldn’t have made a difference in how much I loved her. I wouldn’t have left her.”

But would you want to kill her over it? Duncan thought. “So you never knew the details of those clandestine meetings?”

Looking pained, the judge shook his head. “No.”

“Did she ever know you’d found her out?”

“No. I didn’t want her to know I’d stooped so low as to have her spied on. I was ashamed of it. Besides, a few weeks after I dismissed Napoli, it ceased to matter.”

Duncan frowned with misapprehension. “She stopped seeing the guy?”

“In a manner of speaking.” After a beat, he said, “Elise’s rendezvous were with Coleman Greer.”

Even at midafternoon, the White Tie and Tails Club was as dark as midnight except for the strobes flashing on the girl dancing onstage, and the pink and blue neon stars that twinkled on the ceiling.

Well ahead of the Saturday night crowd that would pack the place after nightfall, a handful of customers were seated along the semicircular stage, nursing drinks and enjoying the dancer’s performance. Only one was whistling and rowdily applauding the act.

Savich occupied a booth at the rear of the club, far enough from the stage that he could tolerate the volume of the music. He was seated on the banquette against the wall, facing out into the room. He never left his back exposed.

He watched as a hostess in black leather bra and chaps escorted Elise through the maze of empty tables and chairs. When they reached the booth, he indicated that Elise sit down.

“Can I bring you anything, Mr. Savich?” the hostess asked.

He looked at Elise inquisitively. She shook her head. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Pardon my saying so, but you look a bit strung out, like you could use a drink.”

“No, thank you.”

He waved the hostess off. “We’re not to be disturbed.”

As she walked away, she put an extra jiggle into her bare buttocks. “She’s new. Trying to work her way up to dancer.” With a smile, he returned his attention to Elise. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way. Kenny said you sounded urgent.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Speaking of short notice, you haven’t given me much time, Elise. You must be in a bigger hurry than you indicated the other day.”

“I am.”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing else. I was just anxious to hear back from you.”

He knew she was lying, but he let it pass. He rather enjoyed her vain effort to hide from him that a new development had upset her. Otherwise she wouldn’t have called him on a Saturday afternoon, sounding “positively distraught,” according to Kenny. She’d been so eager to see him, she had agreed to join him at the topless club where they’d first met. It was miles-and light-years-away from her home, her country club, her present life as Mrs. Cato Laird.

“How does it feel to be back in the White Tie and Tails?”

She took a cursory look around. “It seems like a long time ago since I worked here.”

“You’re still missed.”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the new talent.”

“But some girls leave a lasting impression.” He let the words hover there between them for several moments. Then he leaned back against the padded banquette and reached for his gold cigarette case and lighter.

“Savich, were you able to-”

“Hatcher.”

She flinched with surprise. Possibly with something else. “What about him?”

He took his time lighting his cigarette. “Is he still the detective on the case?”

“As of an hour ago.”

“Duncan Hatcher, the homicide detective,” he said. “Why does he continue to investigate the shooting?”

“He said there were loose ends that needed clearing up before he could close the case.”

“And you believed that?” he asked, disdainful of her naivete. “He’s digging, Elise. He’s trying to find fault with your self-defense story.”

“He’s talking to us, that’s all.”

“You and your husband?”

“He’s talking privately with Cato right now.”

“Why privately?”

She took a deep breath, exhaled it along with the words “I don’t know.”

“Hmm. So that’s what got you spooked.”

“I’m not spooked.”

Her short tone caused him to arch an eyebrow, reminding her that she had petitioned his help, and that she wasn’t speaking to him with the deference that a petitioner should. It worked. She backed down.

“Were you able to do what I asked?” she said.

He blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. It swirled in the glow of the pink and blue neon stars. “Tell me, Elise, what do you think of Duncan Hatcher?”

“He’s tough, just as you warned me he would be.”

Lowering his voice, he said, “Maybe a more interesting question would be to ask what Detective Hatcher thinks of you, sweet Elise?”

“He thinks I’m a liar.”

“Really?” Fixing his steady blue gaze on her, he idly stroked his cheek. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m afraid Detective Hatcher will continue to think I’m a liar.”

“Change his mind,” he said simply.

“I’ve tried. He didn’t believe me.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He can be charming. Or so I’ve heard. But under those rough-and-tumble Southern-boy, tawny good looks, he’s all cop. A fucking cop,” he said, letting his enmity toward Hatcher show.

“He won’t close your case as long as there’s one iota of doubt in his mind that it was self-defense. Hear me well, Elise. He’ll leave no stone unturned. And he would delight in finding something nasty beneath one. There’s bad blood between him and your husband.”

“I know about that. Most recently they clashed over your mistrial.”

“Yes, and for that, Hatcher would enjoy embarrassing you and the judge. Publicly if he can. But that’s nothing compared to the plans he has for me. He’s a man with a mission. He never forgets, and he never gives up.”

“I sense that about him.”

“You’re in a dangerous spot, Elise.”

She pulled her lower lip through her teeth. “He doesn’t have any evidence to disprove self-defense.”

“But Hatcher has been known to build cases out of virtually nothing, and, with the exception of my recent trial, he gets convictions and they stick despite appeals.” Sounding almost mystified, he said, “The man actually believes in what he’s doing. Right versus wrong. Good versus evil. He’s a crusader. True blue. Seemingly incorruptible.”

Snagged by his own words, he thought, Seemingly incorruptible.

Through the haze of cigarette smoke, he studied his guest. She really was a lovely girl. Classiness and sexiness in one stunning package. A tantalizing combination. Which even a crusader would find hard to resist.

The smile originated with his thoughts and spread slowly across his face. “Sweet Elise,” he said, his voice dripping honey, “let’s talk about this favor you asked of me. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve already granted it.”

WHEN THE HIGH-PITCHED WARNING BEEP SIGNALED THAT A main door of the house had been opened, Elise swiftly left her bedroom. She’d reached the top of the stairs when she heard the chirps indicating that the code was being entered. Cato was home.

He appeared in the foyer below her. She called his name. He looked up and saw her poised there at the top of the staircase. “Hello, Elise. You’re still awake. Why am I not surprised?” Rather than coming upstairs, he proceeded down the foyer, disappearing from her sight.