Heather Graham Read Online Free PDF Page B

anything.”
    “Did he say anything to you when you just went in to see him?” Mark demanded.
    “Say anything about what?” she queried in turn, obviously becoming suspicious of his motives in questioning her.
    “About tonight. About what happened.”
    She shook her head, wetting her lips. She was lying, and she wasn’t good at lying. She didn’t like lying. But she was like a mother bear with an injured cub. She was going to protect her man. And it appeared that she thought the police were totally out of line.
    “For God’s sake,” Jimmy suddenly blurted out, “you must know something! You do, and he must have said something when he reached you, dropped something!”
    “Like what?” she snapped.
    “Jimmy!” Mark warned.
    Too late. “Like a murder weapon,” Jimmy said.
    “Murder weapon?” she repeated, stunned. “What is the matter with the two of you!” She shook her head in disgust. “Officer—” she began angrily.
    “Detective,” Jimmy sighed.
    “Detective, sir,” she said pointedly and impatiently, “Jon came into my apartment like a spigot spewing blood. He was the one attacked—he wasn’t carrying a murder weapon. You two definitely seem to be missing the main point here. Pay attention, comprehend! Jon was attacked. Nearly killed. And he’s fighting for his life right now.”
    Jimmy was about to erupt with angry words; a glance at Mark stopped him. He lifted a hand in aggravation and defeat, leaving the explanation of the situation up to Mark.
    “Mrs. Marcel, I’m afraid that you haven’t been apprised of the full situation as of yet.”
    She was tense, careful. “What full situation?”
    He watched her closely, pausing only a second. “Mrs. Marcel, a young woman—a stripper—was killed just a few blocks from your home. The trail of your husband’s blood led from the corpse of the murdered girl straight to your doorway.”
    She stood, nearly knocking him backward in her abrupt movement. He just caught himself, coming to his feet as well.
    “You wretched bastards!” she hissed softly. “I thought you’d come here to help apprehend the person who did this to Jon—”
    “Mrs. Marcel—”
    “And all you want to do is take the easy way out. Accuse him of a crime he didn’t commit!”
    “Mrs. Marcel!” Mark grated. “You must realize, the facts are what they are. A young woman is dead—”
    “Jon is half-dead!”
    “He left a trail of blood—”
    “Yes! His blood.”
    Jimmy cleared his throat. “The blood has yet to be analyzed, but by the visual evidence, it seems that we’ll be finding matches with your husband’s blood and the dead woman’s along the trail.”
    Ann Marcel’s perfect porcelain-doll features were sheet white. Mark thought that she was going to fall. He reached out a hand to steady her. She slapped it away.
    “Jon didn’t kill anyone. Talk about your visual evidence! I haven’t seen any of it, and it’s plain to me that someone killed your young woman, Jon tried to stop the attack, and was nearly killed himself in the effort!”
    “Mrs. Marcel—” Jimmy began placatingly.
    “He didn’t do it.”
    “If you could just help us—” Mark tried.
    “The wife is always the last to know,” Jimmy muttered beneath his breath. Audibly.
    “Don’t be such an ass, officer!” Ann Marcel said indignantly. “What, you have no interest in doing your jobs? Go for the obvious?”
    Mark gave Jimmy a warning glare. She’d be complaining to the D.A.’s office about police badgering. He wanted this one by the book. “Mrs. Marcel, I’m afraid when evidence is obvious, we’ve no choice but to use it. We have no reason to wish Mr. Marcel any ill—I’m afraid that at the moment, evidence does point in his direction.”
    “You’ve already got him hanged.”
    “We don’t hang people in Louisiana—they die by lethal injection!” Jimmy said indignantly.
    A gasp escaped her.
    “Jimmy,” Mark said quietly.
    The woman spun on Mark. “He’s innocent,