Read Online Thicker Than Water by P.J. Parrish - Free Book Online

bookcase, its shelves filled not with books but with carefully displayed conch shells. The place looked more like the den of somebody’s eccentric old uncle than a law office.
    â€œNice,” Louis said, turning.
    Ellie Silvestri was staring at the room. “My God,” she said softly.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?”
    â€œI’ve never seen it this . . . clean.” She came forward, scanning the old furniture and walls. “Mr. Duvall was a pack rat and he hated it when I tried to tidy up. He didn’t even like the cleaning lady coming in here.”
    Ellie moved to the desk. It was clean; the crime scene technicians had taken everything. She was looking at the powder smudges.
    â€œThat’s from the fingerprint techs,” Louis said, feeling the need to explain.
    Ellie nodded slightly, her eyes still scanning the room. Again, Louis wondered what Ellie Silvestri had seen that morning when she walked in.
    He glanced behind the desk, trying to visualize the scene. There was an old credenza, marked with smudges. The chair was gone; the police probably had it.
    The newspaper article said only that Duvall had been shot in the head. A big chunk of the Persian rug under the desk had been cut away, a bloodstain probably. Louis looked at the desk. He spotted something dark in a crack and bent down for a closer look. It was blood. Which meant Duvall probably had fallen forward.
    â€œDamn,” he said under his breath. There was nothing here to see, nothing to give him a sense of what had happened.
    He smelled smoke. He turned and was surprised to see Ellie Silvestri lighting a cigarette.
    â€œI’m sorry, do you mind?” she asked softly. “Lyle doesn’t let me smoke in the office. Mr. Duvall never cared. He always let me come in here when I needed my fix.”
    â€œGo right ahead.”
    She drew on the cigarette, her eyes wandering over the office. Louis went to the window and pushed back the curtain. The view was of a dilapidated building next door. At least you could see the river from the lobby window. There was nothing to look at from here. But maybe that’s the way Duvall wanted it; some driven people worked better with nothing pretty to distract them.
    â€œMiss Silvestri, can we talk about the night Spencer Duvall was killed?” Louis asked, letting the curtain fall.
    She looked at him beseechingly. “I already told the police . . .”
    â€œI know. But sometimes things can be missed.” Or at least he hoped so, in this case.
    â€œYou were here when Jack Cade came in for his appointment that morning?” Louis asked.
    She nodded, her eyes darkening. “It was just before lunch. It was so strange seeing him. I mean, I hadn’t seen that man in twenty years. He looked so different. His hair was longer. And his face had changed so much.”
    â€œDid you hear anything that was said?”
    â€œSpencer’s door was ajar so—” She paused. Louis was amazed to see her blush. Then he realized it was the first time she had called Duvall by his first name.
    She pulled in a deep breath. “Jack Cade was furious. I heard him say he was going to sue Spencer for legal malpractice.”
    â€œHow did Mr. Duvall react?”
    â€œI couldn’t really hear what Spencer told him because Spencer didn’t raise his voice at all. Which was unusual because he could bellow back on occasion. But Spencer was quiet.”
    â€œThen what happened?”
    â€œCade got louder, so I went in and asked Spencer if he wanted me to call security.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œI didn’t have to. Jack Cade started to leave.” She paused, tears springing to her eyes. “But he stopped and looked back at Spencer and said, ‘I’ll get you, Duvall, one way or the other.’ Then he was gone.”
    She snuffed her cigarette out in the ashtray on the small round table.
    â€œWhat happened after Cade left?”
    â€œNothing