French Silk(125)

"I'll let Congressman Petrie explain why he asked us for this meeting." Tony coughed uncomfortably behind his fist. "When you hear what he has to say, you'll realize its importance and urgency. Congressman?"

Petrie began by saying, "I was stunned by the headlines I read in this morning's newspaper, Mr. Cassidy."

"It's pretty stunning stuff. If a technician hadn't been on his toes, he wouldn't have noticed the similarities between the results of the ballistics test he ran on Yasmine's suicide bullet and the ones he'd recently conducted on the bullets we took out of Jackson Wilde. There was a deep groove running the length of the bullets that was worth remembering, he said. So he compared them. And bingo. Same weapon. He fired it just to make sure. There's no mistake."

"There has to be."

"There isn't."

"Nevertheless, your investigation into a possible connection between Yasmine's suicide and Jackson Wilde's murder must cease and desist. Immediately."

The command was issued so pedantically, and with such bald arrogance, that Cassidy's initial reaction was to laugh. He glanced at Tony Crowder, but there wasn't a trace of a smile on his superior's face. In fact, it looked as stern and indomitable as a totem hewn out of solid oak.

"What the hell is going on?" He faced Petrie again. "Where do you get off telling me to cease and desist my investigation?"

"Yasmine did not kill Jackson Wilde."

"How would you know?"

"Because she was with me that night. Throughout the night."

Silence stretched through the room. Again Cassidy turned to Tony, his hard stare demanding elaboration. The D.A. cleared his throat with obvious discomfort. Cassidy's respect for him slipped several notches. He was old enough to be Petrie's father, but he was kowtowing to the jerk like he was a frigging prince.

"Congressman Petrie came to me this morning and freely admitted that he'd been having an … that is … he and this Yasmine had a relationship."

"No shit," Cassidy said sarcastically. "I know all about his affair with her."

"Miss Laurent told you, I assume," Crowder said.

"That's right."

"Then you can appreciate the embarrassment that a lengthy and thorough investigation could cause Congressman Petrie and his family."

"He should have thought of that before he started screwing around."

Petrie bristled. "All this embarrassment would be for nothing, Mr. Cassidy, because, as I've informed you, I'm Yasmine's alibi. She was with me."

Cassidy looked at him scornfully. "And you get credit for her suicide, don't you, Petrie? She sprayed your walls with her brains because you're a lying cheat. What happened to make you call it quits? Did the new wear off? Or did you get cold feet over the upcoming election? Did you get scared that your white voters weren't going to look kindly upon your black mistress?"

"Cassidy!" Tony banged his fist on his desk.

Cassidy shot from his chair and turned his anger on Crowder. "This is the first piece of real evidence we've uncovered since we began investigating this crime. Do you really expect me to toss it away because it might get out that the woman implicated in the crime was our illustrious congressman's mistress?"

Petrie's previous nonchalance had vanished. Red-faced with indignation, he too came to his feet. "Yasmine was not my mistress. She had formed an unnatural attachment for me that was entirely one-sided. A fatal attraction."

"You're a liar. It was a two-way love affair until you turned gutless."

"She was a terribly disturbed young woman."

"That's bullshit."

"She was addicted to mind-altering drugs—"

"Dr. Dupuis's autopsy report says she didn't have so much as an aspirin in her system."

"Obviously Yasmine didn't agree with my position on—"

"Oh, I'll bet you agreed on most positions. Which one did you like best? On top or on bottom?"

"Cassidy, I won't have this!" Crowder bellowed, surging to his feet. "I won't have Congressman Petrie insulted in my office when he came here of his own accord and at great personal cost."

"I can't f*ckin' believe this, Tony!" Cassidy exclaimed. "You're going to sweep this under the rug, pretend those ballistics tests don't exist?"

"You know as well as I do that those tests are inconclusive. Besides, he makes good sense. Hear him out."

"Why, Tony?" Cassidy asked, seething.

"He's convinced me that the young woman had no motive to kill Wilde."

Cassidy swiveled his head and fixed a hard stare on Petrie. "You've got the floor. Make it good."

Petrie tugged on the hem of his suit jacket and composed himself. "Yasmine thought Jackson Wilde was a joke," he said. "Even though he called the French Silk catalog pornographic, she didn't take him seriously. To her he was a comic figure. That's all. She teased me about rolling out the red carpet to him while he was here."

"Oh, you're a specialist at kissing ass."

"Cassidy, shut up!"

He ignored Crowder and advanced on Petrie. "You looked right at home sitting on his podium. You're as full of shit as he was. In my opinion, Wilde was the Alister Petrie of clergymen. Like you he was a self-important, self-serving opportunist who's only talent was duping people."