Read Online Still Life by Joy Fielding - Free Book Online

detective began.
    There must be some mistake. Who would possibly want to kill me?
    “I’m sorry. Of course. Go ahead. I’m sorry,” Warren apologized again.
    Casey heard the sound of chairs being adjusted and occupied, Warren in one, the police officer right beside him. She pictured the detective as tall and swarthy, with thinning, wavy dark hair and a deeply lined face. His voice, strong and matter-of-fact, indicated he was used to being in charge. She decided he was probably around forty, although she could easily have been off by a decade in either direction. Voices were so deceiving, she thought.
    “As I was saying, we reviewed the surveillance tapes.” Detective Spinetti paused, as if he expected to be interrupted again, then continued when no such interruption was forthcoming. “Unfortunately, the parking garage has been around forever, and the security cameras are on their last legs. So all we knew for certain was that the vehicle that hit your wife was a late-model Ford SUV, probably silver in color. We enhanced the images and were able to get a partial plate. But you already know this.”
    “Clearly there’s something I don’t know.”
    “After we ran the plates, we discovered they were phony. That, plus the fact your wife is Ronald Lerner’s daughter, and Ronald Lerner was a man who’d ruffled more than a few feathers in his day….”
    “That day is long past. The man’s been dead for years,” Warren scoffed. “Why would someone go after his daughter now?”
    “I’m not saying that’s what happened. I’m simply saying it got us thinking that this might not have been the simple case of hit-and—run we first assumed it was. So we went back and looked at the tapes again, both at the exit and the entrance to the garage, starting first thing that morning, to see if we could spot the SUV when it arrived. Unfortunately, the cameras on the individual levels of the garage contained no film, so they weren’t of any help.”
    “And what did you find out?”
    “We saw your wife drive in at just before noon …”
    Another pause. Was he straining for dramatic effect? Casey wondered impatiently. Just spit it out.
    “Go on,” Warren said.
    “… and the car that hit her drive in soon after.”
    “How soon?”
    “Within seconds.”
    Within seconds. What does that mean?
    “You’re saying you think she was being followed?”
    “It’s an awfully big coincidence if she wasn’t. Think about it, Mr. Marshall. Your wife enters the parking garage at just before noon, followed immediately by the same SUV that runs her down several hours later.”
    “But it could be a coincidence,” Warren said, clearly struggling to understand what was becoming obvious even to Casey.
    Someone had followed her into the garage, waited there until she returned, then tried to kill her.
    “It could be,” the detective agreed unconvincingly.
    “Good God,” Warren whispered, as Casey pictured him burying his face in his hands.
    “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to hurt your wife, Mr. Marshall?”
    “No one,” Warren answered without pause. “Casey is a wonderful woman. Everybody loves her.”
    “Perhaps a jealous former boyfriend….”
    Casey felt Warren shaking his head, imagined several strands of soft brown hair falling across his forehead.
    “Does your wife have a job, Mr. Marshall?”
    “She’s an interior decorator. Why?”
    “Any unhappy customers?”
    “You fire your decorator if you’re unhappy, Detective. You don’t run them down.”
    “Still, I’d appreciate a list of all her clients.”
    “I’ll have it for you first thing in the morning.”
    “What about the people who work for her? Any disgruntled employees, someone she had to let go recently …?”
    “Casey worked alone. The business was relatively new. She used to …” He broke off.
    “She used to …?” Detective Spinetti repeated.
    “She used to run a lawyer placement service with her friend Janine.”
    “That would