Touch of Madness Read Online Free PDF Page B

As soon as my butt hit the wood the Italian introduced himself and his partner and started in on the questions.
    “I’m Detective Frank Martinelli. This,” he gestured toward the blond, “is my partner, Detective Al Cook.”
    Neither one held out a hand for me to shake, so I nodded my acknowledgment.
    Cook took the lead then. “Ms. Reilly, can you tell us where you were last night at around 10:00 P.M.?
    Tom was still standing. He looked from Martinelli to Cook, then back at me. “I think I’ll go get your lawyer.”
    “I really don’t think that’s necessary, sir.” Cook forced himself to smile when he said it. He was being the very picture of the polite police detective in dealing with Tom, but I got the impression he wasn’t happy about it.
    “I do.” Tom gave me a look that said as clearly as words that I should shut up and wait for the attorney. It was probably good advice. That didn’t mean I was going to take it.
    I watched him hurry toward the courtroom. He’d barely stepped through the door when I turned my attention back to the detectives and answered the question.
    “Last night at ten I was watching a DVD with Father Michael O’Rourke and my brother Bryan in the rectory at Our Lady of Perpetual Hope parish.”
    Cook’s expression changed. He looked almost like he’d swallowed a bug. Martinelli let out a bark of laughter. He stifled it with difficulty in response to a glare from his partner, hiding it behind a cough.
    “Right.” Cook pulled a small spiral notebook and pen from his trouser pocket. It reminded me forcibly of all the police procedurals I’d watched on television. I wondered just exactly what crime had been committed. I didn’t, however, ask. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I really had been at the rectory. But I already had one pending criminal case and as the saying goes, anything I said can, and would, be used against me. I wasn’t looking to get myself into any more trouble.
    “And Father O’Rourke can verify this?”
    “Of course. Let me get you his number.” I took a minute to rummage in my bag to pull out my cell phone, by which time Tom and the attorney were walking out of the courtroom and hurrying toward us.
    “Officers.” The attorney’s voice was smooth, cultured. It matched his appearance perfectly. He wore a suit in dove gray with a faint charcoal pinstripe. It was almost the exact same shade and cut as Tom’s, but I’d have bet most of a paycheck that it cost at least twice as much. It had been cut to perfection and had that indefinable something that made me think it had been hand tailored. If I was right, that suit had cost him more than my last, lamented vehicle. He had been selected by the insurance company to represent me, and while I probably wouldn’t have chosen him if it were up to me, I had no complaints thus far. “May I ask what this is about?”
    “Ms. Reilly has been charged with vandalism of a laboratory and destruction of specimens at St. Elizabeth’s hospital. Last night, someone broke into that same laboratory and stole similar specimens. We thought that was quite a coincidence, and decided we’d like to have a chat with her.” Cook was pissed and it showed. Either that or he was putting on an act. Most cops don’t rise to detective, and the ones who do don’t make it by losing their tempers just because someone brings in a lawyer.
    “First.” The lawyer held up his index finger as he spoke. “She has been charged. She has not been convicted.” He held up a second finger. “Second, as you no doubt know, my client has been declared persona non grata at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. Security has been ordered to escort her off the premises on sight. Since, as you can see, she has a very distinctive appearance, I doubt she could have made it through the doorway, let alone to the laboratory.”
    “The perp didn’t come in the front door,” Cook answered.
    I heard him, but I wasn’t really listening. My mind was spinning. Someone