Read Online Design on a Crime by Ginny Aiken - Free Book Online Page A

silent.
    "You do see the advantage, don't you?"
    "Yeah. To you. But I don't need a lawyer. I haven't done a
thing, and the cops are just slow finding the killer. I'll thank
you to leave me alone-"
    "Ms. Farrell, you don't understand how serious your situation is. You're the only person with motive, means, and
opportunity. Those three things are what law enforcement
considers crucial for zeroing on their man ... er ... woman,
in this case."
    "The conversation's over, Mr. Harris. Don't call me again.
If I need you for Marge's business, I'll call you."

    In my twenty-five years, I'd never hung up on anyone. I
hadn't thought I could be that rude. But it felt good-great,
actually. The sleazy shyster and the cheating builder would
make a great team. I wonder if Harris represented Dutch in
his lawsuit.
    "I gather it wasn't the police," Dad said, TV clicker in hand.
It was almost time for the ten o'clock news, and he never
misses the program. He says he has to check before bedtime
to see what the Lord wants him to pray about.
    "You got that right. It was Marge's weasel lawyer." I blew
at some strands of hair that had fallen over my eyes. "Can
you believe he offered to represent me?"
    "I thought he already represented Marge's estate. Doesn't
that sort of cover representing you too?"
    "Oh, he didn't call about the will or the estate, Dad. He
figures I need a criminal lawyer."
    My father closed his gray eyes. "I guess he read the
paper."
    "Must have. Either that or he's been chatting up his pals
at the cop shop again."
    I tried to keep my tone light, but my turkey tenderloin
dinner was now ready to rumble. What was Detective Tsu
doing if the best she could come up with was to pin this thing
on me?
    "Don't worry, Dad. I'll figure it out. The cops can't be so
dumb as to think I killed Marge. Sooner or later they'll find
the killer."
    For the first time I could remember, Dad didn't turn on his
newscast. He put the clicker down on the coffee table, then
gathered up his Bible and headed for the stairs.

    At the bottom step he turned and said, "Haley, I know the
Father will see you through this, but I suspect that before that
happens, things will get much worse. You might want to find
yourself an advocate. I'd rather you reach out to the Lord,
but you should hire a lawyer too. A different one, since you
dislike this man so much."
    I didn't have a decent answer, so I only said, "Good
night."
    When his bedroom door closed, I headed for the kitchen.
Midas's nails clicked on the hardwood floor as he followed.
The doggy cookie I tossed him didn't get the chance to hit
the floor.
    I smiled. At least one person didn't care what the cops
thought. True, he had four paws and thick golden fur, but
as far as Midas was concerned, he was just as human as the
next guy ... dog ... whatever.
    After a cup of chamomile tea, my stomach felt better, but I
didn't. The newspaper article made everything too real. I was
halfway through my fifth read when the phone rang.
    "Haley?"
    "Gussie! I'm surprised you're still awake."
    "Tom brought in the evening paper, and after I read that
article, I couldn't relax. How are you doing?"
    "Just peachy dandy."
    "I figured." Gussie's sigh felt almost as comforting as the
gentle touch of her hand. "What are you going to do?"
    "Aside from not hiring Marge's crummy lawyer, who just
called to make me a generous offer I definitely could, and did,
refuse? I don't know. I'll tell you this though. I'm not going
to jail for something I didn't do."

    "Of course not. Why would you?"
    "Because the cops can't see what's before their noses."
    "What do you see before your nose?"
    "One of three people did it."
    She gasped. "Who ... who do you think killed Marge?"
    "Well, according to TV shows and newspaper stories, conventional wisdom says the spouse did it. I know Steve wasn't
in town, but maybe he was and only pretended to be gone.
You know, building himself an alibi."
    "That's ... possible."