Read Online Never Say Sty by Linda O. Johnston - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda O. Johnston
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Ballantyne. Detective Noralles developed a tolerance for your interference, mostly because you had a run of luck in resolving difficult cases. And he’s the one who wound up being patted on the back by the department for successful case solution. But I’m not Ned. I won’t go after the wrong suspect. And I do not put up with any kind of meddling. Do you understand?”
I considered standing and saluting smartly. But that wouldn’t earn me tolerance from this cop who was obviously swellheaded about being in charge. “Yes,” was all I said. I swallowed the sarcasm that sped to my lips. “May I go now?” Oh, did I sound like the perfectly pliant and chastised interrogatee. Okay, so I couldn’t completely sublimate my sarcasm. But he seemed to buy it as genuine acquiescence to authority.
“Yes, as long as you understand, and I repeat: Don’t stick your nose in my case. Got it?”
What I got was that there was a whole lot of antipathy between Detective Wherlon and me. I simply nodded before I could say anything I might later regret, then slunk irritatedly out of that office.
Where I ran into a cop in casual clothes whom I’d seen at last week’s filming: Detective Vickie Schwinglan. I’d met her previously in a different situation I’d happened into as a murder magnet. She’d helped Ned investigate the killing of one of the lawyers at my new law firm, a guy with nearly as winning a personality as our current victim.
“Hello, Ms. Ballantyne,” she said with a sardonic half-smile turning up the corners of her narrow lips. She was at least a half-foot taller than my five-five, and it wasn’t just her navy suit that made her look a lot thinner, too. I recalled her nondescript light brown hair being tied behind her head before, but now it was cut in a short, layered style that wasn’t any more becoming to her ordinary appearance.
Okay, so I was being catty, but having yet another cop glare at me as anathema wasn’t doing much for my mood.
“Detective,” I responded with a nod, and started to walk past her, down the hall toward the open sound stage area.
“I’m sure Detective Wherlon made it clear to you,” she said, “that we will not accept any interference in this case.” Her glare could have punctured an entire parking lot full of tires.
Well, hell. I’m an attorney. A litigator. I’m used to swallowing all kinds of irritated responses generated by a judge staring down at me from the bench. But I’m paid to do that. And these repetitious orders to stay away were getting old.
No one was paying me to maintain my frazzled temper here. On the other hand, failing to do so could land my butt in jail as easily as a contempt of court citation. Maybe even easier, with this bunch of bullying cops.
“I get it.” I attempted not to unleash my irritation. And then I eased past her and opened an obviously soundproof door, since as soon as I did, I was surrounded by noise.
The large stage area was filled with people. And pigs, all harnessed and leashed. Some screamed in dismay at being there with no exciting performances to execute.
There was to have been a general rehearsal today for all who wished to participate in an extra practice, without cameras or backstage people. I was told this area, not within the building containing the murder scene, had been cleared first by the crime scene techs. The decision had been made to allow all the contestants to come to this convenient locale to be questioned individually—and pigs were permitted to accompany them and let the rehearsal go on, at least for now.
I sidled toward where Charlotte and Rachel stood with other folks I’d gotten involved in all this. No Dante, though. I felt both relieved and sorry not to see him. Not that I considered him a suspect, but he was now an integral part of this reality show team. Maybe some moral, as well as financial, support from him would help us all survive this awful situation.
“Oh, Kendra!” Rachel
I considered standing and saluting smartly. But that wouldn’t earn me tolerance from this cop who was obviously swellheaded about being in charge. “Yes,” was all I said. I swallowed the sarcasm that sped to my lips. “May I go now?” Oh, did I sound like the perfectly pliant and chastised interrogatee. Okay, so I couldn’t completely sublimate my sarcasm. But he seemed to buy it as genuine acquiescence to authority.
“Yes, as long as you understand, and I repeat: Don’t stick your nose in my case. Got it?”
What I got was that there was a whole lot of antipathy between Detective Wherlon and me. I simply nodded before I could say anything I might later regret, then slunk irritatedly out of that office.
Where I ran into a cop in casual clothes whom I’d seen at last week’s filming: Detective Vickie Schwinglan. I’d met her previously in a different situation I’d happened into as a murder magnet. She’d helped Ned investigate the killing of one of the lawyers at my new law firm, a guy with nearly as winning a personality as our current victim.
“Hello, Ms. Ballantyne,” she said with a sardonic half-smile turning up the corners of her narrow lips. She was at least a half-foot taller than my five-five, and it wasn’t just her navy suit that made her look a lot thinner, too. I recalled her nondescript light brown hair being tied behind her head before, but now it was cut in a short, layered style that wasn’t any more becoming to her ordinary appearance.
Okay, so I was being catty, but having yet another cop glare at me as anathema wasn’t doing much for my mood.
“Detective,” I responded with a nod, and started to walk past her, down the hall toward the open sound stage area.
“I’m sure Detective Wherlon made it clear to you,” she said, “that we will not accept any interference in this case.” Her glare could have punctured an entire parking lot full of tires.
Well, hell. I’m an attorney. A litigator. I’m used to swallowing all kinds of irritated responses generated by a judge staring down at me from the bench. But I’m paid to do that. And these repetitious orders to stay away were getting old.
No one was paying me to maintain my frazzled temper here. On the other hand, failing to do so could land my butt in jail as easily as a contempt of court citation. Maybe even easier, with this bunch of bullying cops.
“I get it.” I attempted not to unleash my irritation. And then I eased past her and opened an obviously soundproof door, since as soon as I did, I was surrounded by noise.
The large stage area was filled with people. And pigs, all harnessed and leashed. Some screamed in dismay at being there with no exciting performances to execute.
There was to have been a general rehearsal today for all who wished to participate in an extra practice, without cameras or backstage people. I was told this area, not within the building containing the murder scene, had been cleared first by the crime scene techs. The decision had been made to allow all the contestants to come to this convenient locale to be questioned individually—and pigs were permitted to accompany them and let the rehearsal go on, at least for now.
I sidled toward where Charlotte and Rachel stood with other folks I’d gotten involved in all this. No Dante, though. I felt both relieved and sorry not to see him. Not that I considered him a suspect, but he was now an integral part of this reality show team. Maybe some moral, as well as financial, support from him would help us all survive this awful situation.
“Oh, Kendra!” Rachel
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