ladder, and a man in Wainright’s profession…”
With startling clarity, Cassie saw where Luke was headed. He was deliberately provoking the clerk, hoping anger would force her to drop some useful piece of information. Unfortunately, in the process, he would ruin any chance for Cassie to gain the cooperation she needed.
In an effort to avert disaster, Cassie protested. “Detective Sl—”
“Not Thomas,” Chelsea insisted stubbornly, her attention focused entirely on Luke. “Everyone liked him.”
Luke’s uplifted eyebrow conveyed his skepticism more eloquently than words. “Even the people he sentenced?”
“Of course not,” Chelsea snapped. “But I’m sure they realized he was only doing his job.”
As she glanced from Luke’s disbelieving smile to Chelsea’s tightly compressed lips, Cassie heard the toilet flush on her interview. It was evident she’d get no more information from the clerk today, if ever.
Slapping shut her notepad, she stowed her tape recorder in her shoulder bag while Luke gave Chelsea a card and suggested she call if she remembered anything pertinent to the case. Not until Cassie and Luke were safely in the hallway did she vent her frustration.
Hands on hips, she rounded on him. “I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“That you wouldn’t keep our bargain. That you’d mess things up.”
“What did I do?”
His feigned innocence fueled her anger. If it hadn’t been a supremely childish gesture, she would have stamped her foot. “Do? What didn’t you do? We were supposed to take turns.”
“I guess I forgot.”
Forgot! The Luke she knew never forgot anything, nor made a single move without careful, advance consideration. Refusing to honor his bald-faced lie with a rebuttal, she listed the rest of her grievances. “First you act as though I’m an hysterical female about to shatter at the slightest provocation, then you butt into my interview and spoil everything, just when I was getting somewhere.”
His eyebrow shot up. “You were getting nowhere. That inane woman was feeding you a line, and you were taking down every word like it was gospel. All I did was get to the heart of the matter.”
“I didn’t believe her—I was drawing her out. She was about to open up when you had to jump in like a moose in a china shop.”
He grinned. “Bull.”
“What?”
“It’s a bull, not a moose.”
“I don’t care if it’s a ten-foot gorilla. You did it.” She swung away and marched up the hall, propelled by his chuckle at her back.
“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘good cop, bad cop’?”
Cassie planted leather-soled sandals against the marble floor and skidded to a halt. Evidently caught off guard by the abrupt maneuver, Luke bumped into her. An electric current rippled as the full length of his body pressed against her. Disconcerted, she shook off his steadying grasp. “We’re not playing cops and robbers.”
“Aren’t we?”
His familiar masculine scent, mixed with a hint of spicy aftershave, teased her nose. Startled, she met his stare and lost the thread of conversation. He was standing too close. She took a quick step backward and bent down, making a display of adjusting the strap of one sandal, while trying to ignore the heat coiling in her belly.
“Did you catch her slip?”
Cassie straightened, grateful for the excuse to steer her thoughts in a different vein.
“She called him Thomas,” he said.
“Big deal. Lots of secretaries—clerks—use their bosses’ first names. I hardly consider that cause for suspicion.” Except when coupled with obvious bitterness at his married state.
“Anyway,” she continued, picking up the thread of her earlier grievance, “in spite of what you believe, antagonizing people isn’t always the best way to encourage them to spill their guts.”
“It’s a good interrogation technique.” Luke fumbled his notepad from his pocket and flipped back the front cover.
“I was conducting an interview, not an interrogation, and you can’t just jump in every time you decide I’m not handling things right.”
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, his attention on the first page of notes. “I won’t do it again.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open. Admitting they were wrong was hard for most men; for the old Luke it was well nigh impossible. What was he up to?
He closed the pad and looked up, his gaze piercing. “Did you remember anything?”
The abrupt question sent a chill up her spine. “No.” She took a step back, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“It’s all right, slugger,” he assured her, his manner subdued by her obvious discomfort. “From what the doctor says, when your head wound heals completely, your memory will probably return. These things take time.”
Time she didn’t have, not if she intended uncovering a killer. Not if she ever wanted to feel safe again. Still, she managed a lukewarm response that seemed to satisfy Luke.
“I need to check in and see if Haggerty or Jessup have turned up anything on your elusive caller,” he said. “Then let’s see if Judge Kimball’s free this afternoon. He’s on my list, and you can check about those transcripts you want.”
“Good idea.” She started up the hall, her spirits taking an upward swing. “Uncle Harry will be happy to help.”
“Uncle Harry?”
As Luke fell into step beside her, she smiled, taking a measure of satisfaction in throwing him off balance. “Harry Kimball. I’m sure you’ve heard Pop mention him. He’s another old family friend—the one who couldn’t make it to our wedding.”
Old friend hardly described the urbane individual who entered the office where Luke and Cassie waited after lunch. Judge Harold Kimball appeared to be in his early forties, closer in age to Cassie’s brothers than to her father. And the man certainly didn’t treat her like any uncle that Luke had ever known.
“I hope you didn’t have to wait too long, honey,” Kimball said, settling a much-too-affectionate kiss on Cassie’s cheek.
“I’m so sorry about your loss, Uncle Harry,” she said.
“Terrible, terrible. It’s always hard to lose a good friend, but this kind of thing…” Kimball shook his head sadly. “So senseless, so unnecessary. A true tragedy.”
Maybe it was Kimball’s overblown manner or just the intimate way he clasped Cassie’s hands, but Luke couldn’t work up much sympathy for the man. Yet his grief seemed genuine.
“It must have been an awful shock,” Cassie said to him.
“You can’t imagine.” He paused, then seemed to pull himself together. “But what about you? I couldn’t believe when your father told me you’d been attacked. Are you sure you’re not overtaxing yourself?”
Not waiting for an answer, he grasped her chin between thumb and forefinger and tilted her head to inspect her healing wound. To Luke’s amazement, she allowed the familiarity, although she pulled away when the judge raised a finger as if he intended to probe the bruises around her bandage.
“I’m fine, Uncle Harry. Pop always claimed I was hard-headed. I guess I proved him right.”
“Not hard-headed, my girl. Determined.” Kimball patted her cheek and smiled. “There’s a difference, you know. And with Benjamin for a father,