Part 14 (1/2)
”No.”
”That's what I thought. In that case, I'm going home. Let me know if you come up with anything.”
Cora smiled and went downstairs.
Sam Brogan was standing guard or doing a great impression of a cow sleeping on its feet. Cora couldn't tell which without snapping her fingers in his face, which seemed rude. She murmured, ”Good night, Sam,” didn't wait for a reply, ducked under the crime scene ribbon, got in her car, and drove off.
Her hands were shaking.
What had she done? She'd withheld the fact that she'd called on the banker that very afternoon. She'd had every opportunity to mention it, and she hadn't. Why? Why didn't she tell Chief Harper? Because Dan Finley was there? That was a convenient excuse. You wouldn't wanna spill your guts in front of a witness. But why not? It wasn't as if she had anything to hide. She had nothing to do with the man's death, and nothing she had to say could possibly incriminate her. She was absolutely, one hundred percent in the clear.
Except now.
Now that she'd left the scene of the crime, she was guilty of holding out on the police. That technically made her guilty of compounding a felony and conspiring to conceal a crime.
That was ridiculous. She wasn't concealing a crime. The crime was murder, and it wasn't concealed at all. Everyone knew about it. Paying a social call on the banker was not a crime, and failing to mention that fact, the fact that had absolutely nothing to do with the murder, could not possibly be construed as obstruction of justice.
Could it?
Cora considered calling Becky Baldwin. She wondered how the young lawyer would feel about being rousted out of bed in the dead of night. She'd probably be okay with it if Cora were a suspect offering a retainer. But Cora wasn't a suspect. She was an innocent bystander, whose only mistake had been marrying the wrong man some umpteen years ago, an indiscretion for which she seemed destined to never cease being punished.
As far as Cora was concerned, the death of this banker was just one in a series of nasty manipulations engineered by Melvin in order to wreck her day.
Cora pulled up the driveway. The new addition flickered in the headlights like some huge monster lying in wait. Cora switched off the lights, went up the walk.
Sherry met her at the front door.
”What are you doing up?”
”I couldn't sleep.”
”Where's Aaron?”
”He could.”
”A murder, and your newspaper reporter hubby couldn't care?”
”The Gazette's a morning paper, and it's already off the press. He figures there's no point losing sleep for a story that won't run for over twenty-four hours.”
”Good G.o.d. Was he that jaded before he got married?”
”He's not jaded. Just tired.”
”Aren't you tired?”
”Couldn't sleep.”
”You nauseous?”
”No, I am not nauseated. You need to practice your grammar.”
”Not at three in the morning, I don't. You were puking your guts out? That's why you're up?”
”I'm up because the guy who testified against you yesterday is dead. I wanted to be ready to go in case I had to post bail.”
”I had nothing to do with the man's death.”
”Right. And innocent people are never accused.”
”You think Chief Harper would arrest me?”
”He has before.”
”Yeah, but he had cause. This time I haven't done anything.”
”Then why are you nervous?”
”What?”
”You're irritable. Jumpy.”
”It's three in the morning.”
”Even so. I know you. What did you do now?”
Cora took a breath. ”I held out on the cops.”
”What?”
Cora told Sherry about calling on the banker.
”Go back. Go back and tell him what you just told me.”
”It's too late. I already withheld it.”
”You didn't withhold it. You just didn't mention it. In the heat of the moment. With so many things on your mind.”
”Yeah. And if you believe that one...”
”You don't want my advice? So call Becky Baldwin.”
”I don't think she'd be happy to hear from me.”
”So what?”
”I'll call her tomorrow.” Cora flopped down on the couch. ”Really, now. Why are you up? And don't give me that about bail.”
”I thought you might need me.”