Don't Say a Word by Beverly Barton

right?”
    â€œBrand-new model,” Will replied, brows knit, not looking at Julia. “Silver-gray. Single passenger. Enter Ginger.”
    My my, but Will Brannock was quite the professional when on a case. Didn’t waste words, didn’t even speak in complete sentences. Just short and pertinent phrases. A verbal slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Gone was the joking, smiley guy facetiously asking her to name state capitals. The Serious Detective was now on the clock. Truth was, that was a good thing; this was somber business. Will was a professional. She admired the way he was leading the investigation.
    Refocusing her attention on the monitors, from one camera she saw the car stop at the front gate. Then another picked up their purported Ginger rolling down her window and smiling lasciviously up into the camera lens. She was a female, all right, and yes, about as female as you can get: very pretty young girl, long, coppery hair flowing in loose curls sprayed to look soft, and a low-cut gold dress that would win an Academy Award for Best Obscene Gown and which showed a lot more of Ginger’s goodies than most people wanted to see, especially Julia. Will might have a different response to that stimulus, but he wasn’t drooling on the keyboard, so she guessed he wasn’t overly interested in Ginger’s impressive six-inch cleavage. Will was on point, all right.
    Julia watched the mystery woman punch the buttons on the security box. She kept smiling sexily up at the camera, certainly knowing exactly where it was. Her full lips were painted scarlet, of course, and her eyes were all smoky with black eye shadow and mascara. She said something into the microphone, which they couldn’t hear, but it was highly provocative; count on it. Last but not least, Busty Belle blew a kiss to whoever had answered the call up at the house. Julia hoped she didn’t pull down her top and show her boobs, just to spread some icing on her sexy little cake.
    â€œLooks like the judge liked to order out for dessert,” she said to Will.
    â€œYeah. It appears Ginger knows her way around this place pretty damn well. She’s a regular, all right. We need to get her in for questioning.”
    Julia watched as the girl waited for the gate to open, and then drove on through. “Hey, Will, zoom in on the license plate. That would simplify finding her.”
    Will punched some buttons, stopping the image of the vehicle just before it left the frame, and hit another button. The Tennessee license plate appeared on the monitor. Turning to look back at Julia, he said, “This surveillance panel is something else. I know this security company. It’s out of Atlanta. They monitor these systems from their home base and call in the authorities if any alarms are set off.”
    Julia picked up the phone on the desk and pressed the phone-log button. She punched through the list of calls. “No call came in to ask if the judge was okay, but we need to interview the security company and find out if there have been any security alerts in the last couple of months. As clean as this scene looks, the perp might have been casing the place for weeks.”
    â€œRight.” Will was jotting the license number down on a notepad. Pulling out his cell phone, he said, “I’ll get Quantico to check out this plate and then I’ll put a call in to the security company. Go ahead, run the tapes. Yell if anything else comes up.”
    Julia watched him walk out into the library, already punching numbers on his cell phone. She could hear him talking as the monitors stopped again and the woman got out of the Lincoln underneath the side porte cochere. Her skirt was very short, twelve inches at the most, and her red heels were almost that high. She was an obliging call girl, out to do her duty, by hook or by crook. The woman climbed the steps on those ridiculous spike heels. How, Julia couldn’t imagine. It must be like