Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (5 page)

"Hello? Mo-Mo!  How're you doing? Bust any politicians lately?" he began happily.

The sick feeling that Leigh had so successfully been ignoring came back in full force. Warren was the only person who had ever called Maura "Mo-Mo" and lived to tell about it. Like Leigh, the policewoman seemed to have a giant soft spot for the future President. They had made an odd trio in their college days, but they'd shared a lot of laughs.

"Criminal defense attorneys? Sure, I know a few. Why?"

Leigh sunk down in her chair, the pit in her stomach growing. It hadn't been a dream.
Damn
.

There was silence on Warren's end of the line as he turned and fixed her with a hard glare. "She's right here," he said heavily. "She didn't say a word."

Leigh sunk low enough to see the underside of the table, then decided that her back hurt. She slithered back up into the chair and polished off cup number two.

When Warren had finished his conversation, he hung up the phone, poured decaff grounds into a fresh filter, and restarted the coffee pot. "Okay, Leigh," he said solemnly, sitting down. "Let's talk."

***

The Hook agency was headquartered on Pittsburgh's North Side, close to downtown, but with more affordable rent. Both were necessary for the fledgling advertising agency that Leigh was starting up with three other ex-employees of Peres and Lacey Advertising, Inc. They had all been unceremoniously sacked after two major clients withdrew their accounts—rather capriciously, in Leigh's opinion. None of the four took the matter lightly, least of all Leigh, who had already lost two copywriting jobs to Pittsburgh's dog-eat-dog advertising climate.

The venture was a gamble, and Leigh already had cause to regret it. Though she hadn't been required to invest any of her own money, her savings were needed just to cover her expenses until the agency could pay her. So far they had done well, swiping a third of their previous accounts from Peres and Lacey and picking up several others from past contacts. The sad fact, however, was that without nepotism, they'd still be nowhere. They were afloat purely because Carl Ooms, their production manager, happened to have a Fortune-500 uncle who was willing to steer a sizable contract their way—payable up front.

She thanked Warren for the ride and skidded through the lobby of the remodeled warehouse and into the suite marked "Hook, Inc.," a loose acronym for the principals. She passed through the reception area, which was empty of both people and chairs, and on into one of the three back offices, which she shared with designer Alice Humboldt. Alice was out, but Jeff Hulsey—account representative, financial planner, and two-bit motivational speaker—swept in immediately after Leigh.

"Leigh—good news. I think we've got a chance with Major's Pizza. They're thinking print ads with radio spots—I told them you were their woman."

"Do they know I don't do jingles?"

"They don't have to," Jeff said, waving a hand dismissively. "We can contract it. I know a guy."

Leigh smiled. Jeff Hulsey knew everybody. He was a one-man white pages. He was also the driving force behind the new agency, and without him they'd be sunk. "Cool. Let's go for it."

Jeff beamed his approval and disappeared.

Leigh threw the thick wallet she used as a purse into an empty drawer of the painted metal desk she had bought at a flea market. Her computer, at least, was new—even if it was an off brand. Jeff understood the necessities of life.

She adjusted the small stack of papers on her desk, booted up the PC, and commenced staring at the monitor. She was good at staring at monitors. Unfortunately, she was no longer doing it on salary.

The headline of the Geisler Chemicals press release blurred in front of her. Warren had made her repeat every detail of her harrowing night, and had promised to find her an attorney by the end of the day. The problem was, she didn't want one. She'd only met a few trial-type lawyers, and she hadn't liked any of them. Plus, it was very unlikely they'd be willing to take her on as a charity case, which she was. Even if Warren could convince them to agree to a benevolent payment schedule, it would be money she badly needed otherwise.

A loud sigh escaped her lips. She didn't
really
have anything to worry about. Did she? She hadn't done anything except find the body. So what were the police doing with her car? Tanner had said the rest of Carmen's body was dragged under the fence, and the Cavalier had been parked within ten feet of that spot. Could the killer have left some evidence on it? And how long were they going to keep her car, anyway? She was tempted to call Frank and ask, but she doubted she could get off the phone without having to answer more questions. And there were at least two lines of questions she didn't want to answer.

She had spent several unproductive hours at her desk when the phone rang in the reception area. It didn't ring often; since their newly hired business manager hadn't started work yet, important callers were given Jeff's direct line. Leigh poked her head outside her door. Carl wasn't in today either, and Jeff was busy on his extension. It appeared the copywriting department would field the call.

"Hook, Inc. Innovative Advertising and PR. How may I direct your call?"
As in, six feet in which direction?

"Hey there," answered a smooth, Southern male voice. "Sorry I got hung up last night. Are you okay?"

Leigh smiled and sat down on the floor next to the phone. "I'm fine. Seemed like Frank grilled you for a while, though."

"It was nothing. The man's just doing his job," Tanner said charitably. "He's been nosing around here again this morning; the staff's pretty shell-shocked. Listen, I need to tell you that Leo's laid down the law on after-hours procedures."

As well he should, Leigh thought. Leo Martin was the zoo's largely incompetent director, and he was undoubtedly in severe gastric distress over what Carmen's murder would mean for the park's image.

"No one's allowed to be here after closing, period, unless there's an emergency, and then you have to have a security escort. So we may have to adjust your schedule a little."

Leigh sighed. If she was never in a dark zoo again, it would be too soon, but she needed the money. If the zoo wanted her earlier in the day, she'd have to go back to Hook at night or on the weekends to make up the time. It was not a pleasant prospect. "When do you want me there?" she asked, trying not to sound as unenthusiastic as she felt.

"Actually," Tanner said softly, "I was hoping you might come in right after lunch today. I'm still planning on shaving Ollie, and I know you wanted to help."

Leigh smiled. She had been looking forward to seeing the orangutan get his new doo. It was sweet of Tanner to think of her.

"I'll be there," she said decisively. Hook, Inc. could live without her for a few hours. Besides, she had to talk to Tanner. There were things she had to know.

She headed out the door at noon and was well into the parking lot before realizing she had no car. As if on cue, a neon-blue VW beetle pulled up alongside her.

Warren stretched out a long arm and pushed open the passenger door. "Going somewhere?"

"To the zoo," she replied, getting in. "The vet needs my help. Could you give me a lift?"

"I'll give you a lift all right," Warren quipped, speeding off. "But it won't be to the zoo. You have an appointment with an attorney in twenty minutes. And you're going to keep it."

Chapter 5

"I'm really not comfortable with this," Leigh repeated for the third time as they stepped off the elevator onto the fourteenth floor of Grant Street's Oxford Centre. "I can't afford an attorney and I shouldn't have to pay one. I didn't do anything wrong."

Warren had already stopped trying to reason with her. He merely pulled her along with a gentle grip on the arm. "This is it," he said, reading the brass doorplate. He checked his watch and smiled. "Perfect timing."

He opened the door and ushered her inside, where an efficient secretary sent them straight into the office of Katharine Bower, Attorney-at-Law. A petite, fortyish woman in a sharply cut business suit stood up and flashed a broad smile at Leigh's escort. "Warren!" she said warmly, "I'm so glad you came in. We really need to do lunch sometime." She looked at her watch. "Are you free at 2:00 PM?"

Leigh surveyed the lawyer skeptically. So, this was Warren's "shark among women"—the attorney who'd saved one of his previous employers from a trumped-up fraud charge? Judging from the sparkle in the counselor's eyes, she had matters other than criminal defense on her mind at the moment.
Lunch at 2:00 PM?
Please
. By that hour, Leigh was long past lunch and into the chocolate zone.

Warren graciously requested a rain check, explaining that the clock was already ticking on his lunch hour. Unlike most elected officials, the Allegheny County Register of Wills seemed to feel he owed the taxpayers a full day's work. He introduced the two women, then headed for the door. "I'm off to lunch," he said, looking at Leigh. "Can I bring you back something?"

The timing was appropriate, but Leigh shook her head. When it came to unappetizing adventures, a lawyer appointment was right up there with the gynecologist.

Katharine Bower said goodbye to Warren with a calculated toss of her extremely short, extremely red hair, then turned to her client. "Now, Ms. Koslow, let's get down to business, shall we?"

Leigh sat up in her overstuffed leather chair and studied the lawyer from across the shiny black desktop. A pair of wire-framed glasses had materialized on Katharine's nose, and her voice had lost its warm edge. Evidently, business meant business. The shark had merely been on a flirt break.

"Call me Leigh, please."

Katharine nodded briefly in assent. "I understand you've been questioned by the city detectives in regard to a homicide, and that they first advised you of your rights?"

Leigh nodded glumly.

"That means they're considering you a potential suspect. It's important that you don't offer any more information unless I'm present. Understand?"

"Fine," Leigh agreed charitably. "Detective Frank can stew."

Katharine's vibrant green eyes looked up. "You've got Gerry Frank on this one?"

"Yes," Leigh answered, a little worried. "Is that good or bad?"

The lawyer's facial expression gave away nothing, but there was an intensity in her gaze Leigh couldn't miss. "Frank does his job," Katharine answered impassively. "You could do worse."

She pulled a laptop computer in front of her, and began quizzing Leigh on possible reasons the police might have for suspecting her. Unfortunately, Leigh was able to list several. The blood was a big one. Her "running away." And whatever the heck had happened with her car.

Katharine typed rapidly, occasionally tilting her nose down and peering at Leigh over the wire-rims. Her face became increasingly grim. "Anything else?"

"I can't imagine what else they'd have," Leigh said uncertainly. "I've only been working at the zoo a few days."

"So you and the victim had never met?"

Leigh squirmed. She was going to get this one wrong, too. "Well, actually, we went to high school together. But after that I didn't see her for thirteen years."
Why couldn't it have been fourteen?

"You were friends in high school?"

Another strike. "Acquaintances," Leigh answered carefully. "Have you read the statement I gave the police?

Katharine shook her head without looking up. "The police won't give me jack unless you've been charged with something. Then we get the works. Statements, forensics reports. We'll hope it doesn't come to that."

Leigh agreed wholeheartedly.

"Now," Katharine continued, "I want you to start from your first day at the zoo, the first time you saw the victim as an adult, and tell me every significant thing that happened between then and when you walked into my office just now."

Leigh sighed. It was a story she was tired of telling. It was also a story she was tired of editing. She began doggedly, got derailed several times by specific questions, and finished with a faintly nauseous feeling.

Katharine took off her glasses and leaned back in her leather-upholstered recliner. "We need to talk motive, Leigh. It will make or break any case against you."

The nausea increased. "I have no motive."

Katharine smiled suddenly. "Tell me something. You said that during the day you work at an advertising agency?"

Leigh nodded.

"Have you ever pulled an all-nighter over a tough deadline?"

"Sure. Usually when somebody else drops the ball and screws up the schedule. But I'm working for myself now, and I intend to make all-nighters a thing of the past." The words sounded naïve, she knew, but one could always dream.

"But what about when you were an employee? If your boss wanted you to put in some extra evening hours for his convenience, even though it wouldn't strictly be necessary to get the  project in on time? Would you agree?"

"Of course not." Before the words were completely out of Leigh's mouth, she saw through the attorney's questions.
Damn
.