Smash Cut by Sandra Brown Page B

promise she might be unable to keep.
He sat down on a padded bench to remove his shoes. “I hope this lawyer puts the fear of God into him.”
“What’s he like?”
“I liked him. Shoots from the hip. Supposed to be hell on wheels in the courtroom. Prosecutors dread to see him coming. Doesn’t like to lose and goes to the mat only when absolutely forced.”
“Creighton asked why we need him. I wonder that myself.” She had opened one of her jewelry drawers under the pretense of looking for something, but the fact was, this talk of lawyers made her nervous, so she was acting busy to hide it.
“The past five minutes demonstrate how recalcitrant Creighton can be. During the course of an interview, I’m afraid he’ll fly off the handle and say something to those detectives that will rub them the wrong way.”
“If he gets short with them, it’s their own fault,” Sharon said. “He’s getting impatient with their questions, and frankly I don’t blame him. He couldn’t have been involved in that robbery and shooting. He was here. Why don’t they start looking for the real culprit and leave Creighton alone?”
“Hopefully they will. But if not, at least we’ll have Derek Mitchell talking to the police for us and keeping a muzzle on Creighton.”
She gave the drawer a shove, and it closed with a clap. “That still doesn’t explain why they’re fixated on Creighton when he’s got such a solid alibi.”
Doug stood and removed his belt, carefully hanging it on a rack. “I’m sure that’s the first thing Derek Mitchell will demand to know.”
“Do you think Julie is responsible?”
“For the detectives’ interest in Creighton?”
Sharon shrugged.
“No,” Doug replied, shaking his head adamantly. He pulled off his trousers.
“It’s possible, isn’t it?”
“Why would she point the finger at Creighton?”
“Because Paul might have poisoned her mind against him.”
“Paul wouldn’t have done that. He wouldn’t have spoken ill of anyone in the family to Julie.”
Sharon made a scornful sound. “They shared a bed. Paul hated Creighton. He—”
“Paul did not hate Creighton,” Doug said sharply. “They had their disagreements, and Paul didn’t always approve of Creighton’s behavior. But he didn’t hate him. Please don’t ever say that within anyone’s hearing again, Sharon. They could get the wrong idea entirely.” He headed for the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.”

    There was a Post-it note stuck to Derek’s back door.
Warning! She’s in a sulk. Good luck, buddy.
It was signed by Derek’s next-door neighbor who looked after his house while he was away. In addition to collecting the mail, gathering newspapers, and watering the plants, he’d had to deal with Maggie and her shifting moods. After twelve days of it, Derek would be lucky if the guy ever spoke to him again.
He let himself in with his key. “Mags?”
No response. He hauled in his suitcase and roll-aboard, then shut the back door, loudly enough to be heard throughout the house, even upstairs. “Maggie?” Leaving his bags to be unpacked later, he went through the kitchen and past the dining room, checked the living room and his home office, both of which were empty, and then climbed the stairs, removing articles of clothing as he went. He’d been up for almost thirty hours with only that nap on the airplane to sustain him. He hoped Maggie would be merciful and not demand more of him than he had the energy to deliver.
When he left the airport, he’d intended to drop into the office only to check the mail and handle whatever was absolutely necessary. He hadn’t counted on the meeting with Doug Wheeler, and hadn’t regretted making the appointment on short notice.
Until now.
As he trudged upstairs, he felt like he’d been whipped with a chain. He was eager to do his research and learn more about Paul Wheeler’s slaying. He’d even carried home the bundle of newspapers Marlene had collected for him, thinking he might give them a glance at least. But the details of the robbery that had turned to