Indiscretions (28 page)

Before she flew back to Atlanta, she stopped in to see Cliff to let him know how things stood and what she was doing.

“What makes you think you can prove such a thing?” Cliff asked incredulously.

“The pieces are coming together, Cliff. Can't you see that?”

“I think you're just hoping for some miracle. You really have nothing to go on. The D.A. will never reopen the case based on what you have. And where's your motive?”

“Too many things have been swept under the rug, Cliff. And as for a motive…I'll find one.”

Cliff got up from his seat and paced the hardwood floor. “I hope you know what you're doing. If your suspicions are correct, you could be in danger. Did you think about that?” He turned to face her, the depth of his concern filling his eyes.

She briefly lowered her eyes, then looked up with stern resolve. “If it was your client, what would you do?”

She had taken the red eye flight out of New York to Atlanta. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and every bone in her body strained for release. But she couldn't afford to lose a minute. As she crossed the airport parking lot in the chilly morning air to get her car, her mind rapidly accessed all she had learned and her next plan of attack

It was only six a.m. when she arrived at her office and began to re-evaluate her notes and the information from the police. There had to be something she had missed. She'd start from the beginning, with the tenants of Carol's apartment building. As she went over the names, something struck her. Gordon had said he'd given all the information he had to the police. Then why wasn't it anywhere in the reports?

Alex paced his office. He tried in vain to fight off the easy feeling that had been with him for days. His inside sources had told him Khendra was trying to have the case reopened and that new evidence was surfacing every day. He didn't like the sound of it, and he was going to have to do something about it.

He strode over to his phone and placed a call to Mike. He'd know what to do.

Khendra stood in the hallway of Carol's apartment building and looked over her list of tenants. Every statement remained consistent with the information she had in front of her. She had spoken to everyone except a Mrs. Finch.

It was noted in the records that Mrs. Finch was not at home at the time of the murder. Khendra sighed and prepared to leave, then stopped midway down the hall. What did she have to lose by questioning this woman? She turned back down the hallway and pressed the buzzer to apartment 2D, trying her luck.

Several moments passed and she was about to walk away when a soft voice answered.

“Who is it?”

Khendra's stomach tightened. “Mrs. Finch?” she asked through the closed door.

The door cracked open. “Yes?”

Khendra dug into her bag and produced her identification, holding it up to the small face that peered out. “My name is Khendra Phillips. I'm the attorney for Sean Michaels, and I'd like to ask you some questions.”

The door opened a bit more and Mrs. Finch came into full view, clad in a plaid flannel bathrobe. She was in her late thirties Khendra guessed with dark brown hair and gray eyes that seemed to shimmer.

“What do you want with me?” she asked suspiciously.

“May I come in? Just for a minute. I only need to ask you a few questions.”

Mrs. Finch hesitated a moment, then opened the door and let Khendra in. It was a comfortable apartment, decorated in soft beige and dark browns, with overstuffed chairs. Pictures of family members graced the walls. It was the kind of place you could call home, not like the other apartments she had visited that screamed money.

“Have a seat,” Vera Finch offered.

“I don't want to take up too much of your time, Mrs. Finch—”

“Call me Vera,” she said with a soft smile. “I haven't been a Mrs. for quite some time,” she added, feeling immediately at ease in Khendra's presence.

“Okay…Vera. I know you heard about the murder of Carol Michaels, and even though you weren't at home that night—”

“But I was.”

“Excuse me?” Her heart pumped.

“I was home,” she repeated. “Well actually, I was on my way to Florida that night. I just returned yesterday evening. But I heard all the commotion. I left for the airport about twenty minutes after the noise died down.”

“Have you spoken to the police about this?” Khendra's pulse quickened.

“No.”

“What do you remember about that night? Did you see this man?” She produced a photograph of Sean.

Vera looked at the picture long and hard, then shook her head. “That's not the man I saw,” she said. She returned the picture to Khendra, whose hands had started to shake.

Khendra swallowed the knot of pressure that lodged in her throat. “Are you saying you saw someone that night?”

“Oh yeah. He practically knocked me down the stairs I was walking down to meet the cab that took me to the airport.”

Khendra struggled to keep her excitement in check. “Do you remember what he looked like?”

“I'd never forget that face,” she said, giving a slight shudder. “It was his eyes. They were a brilliant blue, almost electric, and he had thick steel-gray hair.”

Khendra's mind raced. She quickly dug through her briefcase and pulled out the picture of Alex she had cut out of the company magazine. “Is this the man you saw?” She held her breath.

“That's him! I came out of my apartment, and I reached the stairs when I heard someone behind me. I turned around, and he was coming out of that woman's apartment. He rushed past me, and I dropped one of my bags. He turned around to pick it up, and he looked at me. It gave me a chill.”

“Would you be willing to testify to that in court?”

“Is it going to get me in any trouble?”

“No. I promise you that. But an innocent man is going to go to prison without your help.”

Vera studied Khendra's face and saw the intensity etched across her features. She believed her. “I'll testify,” she said finally.

“Thank you, Vera,” she said, relief flooding her voice. “I'll be in touch in a few days. If you can think of anything else that might help, please call me.” She scribbled her phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to Vera.

As she pulled her car away from the building, she was struck by the implications of what she had discovered. Alex was more devious than she could have ever imagined. Then Cliff's warning came back to her. “If your suspicions are correct, you could be in danger.”

She couldn't risk thinking about that now. She had to see Ellen Counts.

The wind stirred the statuesque oaks that framed the Counts' massive expanse of property. The early hours of light cast effervescent colors across the grassy lawn. Khendra drove down the winding driveway and pulled up in front of the house, briefly surveying the grounds. Alex lived well, she thought with disgust. And to the casual observer, one would never suspect the deviousness that went on behind those ornate doors.

She walked up the steps, raised the brass doorknocker and let it drop against the door. Almost instantly, a small stately woman answered, presenting the almost untouchable air that comes with success and money.

“Mrs. Counts?”

“Yes.” She looked at her quizzically. “Aren't you Ms. Phillips?”

“Yes, I am. I need to speak with you, Mrs. Counts. It's about your husband.”

Ellen straightened her narrow shoulders and let Khendra pass, then guided her to what must have been a formal sitting room. The finely furnished room was decorated in a Queen Anne motif, the dark wood and intricate designs of the furnishings taking one back to a more chivalrous time.

Khendra took a seat on the floral-patterned sofa, placing her briefcase next to her. Ellen walked over to a wet bar, which was totally incongruous with the room, and poured herself a drink.

“Would you care for something, Ms. Phillips?” she asked, more out of habit than cordiality.

“No…thanks. Nothing for me. As I said, I came to talk to you about Mr. Counts.”

Ellen sat in a wing chair opposite Khendra and looked at her with vacant eyes. “What could you possibly say to me about Alex?” She took a sip of her drink.

“I have reason to believe he was involved in a murder, Mrs. Counts.”

Her face was unreadable. “Really? Isn't that interesting.” She took another sip of her drink.

Khendra was momentarily perplexed by her lack of emotion, but plowed on. “Mrs. Counts, was there ever any reason to believe that your husband was having an affair?”

She chuckled mirthlessly. “I'm sure that he was, Ms. Phillips. There was always someone in Alex's life…other than me.” Her pale lips thinned.

At least she was talking, Khendra thought. “Do you have any idea who she was?”

“They flit in and out of his life. There's never been anyone who lasted very long.” She finished off her drink and returned to the bar for another.

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, the usual. Deductions from the checking account, usually to pay the latest one's rent, charge card receipts for women's items. Things like that.”