French Silk(128)
Cassidy's eyebrows shot up. "Mockery? You want to talk mockery? What about the mockery you made of your marriage by having an affair with your stepson?"
"I no longer have a stepson. Influenced by you, he turned out to be a Judas. God will punish him, too."
"How does God punish liars, Mrs. Wilde? Because you lied to me, didn't you? The night your husband was killed, you left Josh's room for a trip to your hotel suite around midnight."
"Cassidy, what are you getting at?" Crowder asked.
"I found out a few days ago that Josh leased a Chrysler LeBaron convertible while he was in New Orleans. Coincidentally, it is similar to Claire Laurent's and has the same type of carpet."
"I came here to tell you—"
Cassidy didn't give Ariel an opportunity to speak. "You rode in Josh's rental car. You could have tracked the carpet fibers into your husband's bedroom when you went in there to shoot him."
"I could have tracked it in there anytime," she cried. "Rather than finding my husband's killer, you persist in torturing me and my unborn child."
As though on cue, two reporters and one video photographer rushed past the flustered secretary and through the open door. Ariel cupped her abdomen with her hands. "If I lose my child, the guilt will rest on your head, Mr. Cassidy. From what I read in the newspapers, it appears as though my husband's death is connected to that filthy catalog and the whore who posed in it!"
"Yasmine wasn't a whore."
That calm statement came from Claire, who unexpectedly appeared in the doorway.
Cassidy's temper snapped again. "I told you to stay put."
"Harlot!" Ariel shouted, pointing a finger at Claire.
"Everyone, vacate this office at once!" Crowder yelled. "Who let the media in here?" The video camera swung around to get a shot of the D.A.'s flushed, angry face.
Ariel bore down on Claire. Her eyes narrowed to malicious slits. "Finally we meet face to face."
"I avoided it as long as possible."
"'The wages of sin are death,'" Ariel hissed.
"Exactly," Claire replied. "That's why your husband had to die." She turned and looked directly into Cassidy's eyes. "That's why I had to kill him."
* * *
Chapter 28
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From then on, everything happened so quickly that, later, Claire couldn't recall the exact sequence of events.
Ariel Wilde dropped to her knees, raised her clasped hands toward heaven, and began loudly thanking God for wielding his mighty sword of justice.
Crowder bellowed for the security guards to clear his office. The reporters thrust microphones toward Claire and began firing questions.
The video photographer planted his soiled sneakers in the seat of an expensively upholstered chair in order to get a better camera angle on the unfolding scene.
The secretary behind Claire shrieked, "Oh my God!" when she turned to see a throng of Wilde disciples swarming toward the office.
When Claire had time to reflect on those first tumultuous moments following her confession, the recollections were blurred images as though she had experienced them from behind a foggy window pane. One memory, however, stood out with painfully stark clarity—the way Cassidy looked at her.
A myriad of emotions flickered across his face. Disbelief. Remorse. Guilt. Befuddlement. Disillusionment. Pain. Yet, this kaleidoscope of reactions didn't effect his stare, which remained steadfastly on her, glinting and hard.
It was broken only when one of Ariel's followers jostled Claire from behind, and, in order to keep her balance, she had to grab the door jamb. Unchecked by security guards who hadn't yet arrived, the crowd pressed in from behind.
Ariel ended her prayer and sprang to her feet, pointing an accusing finger at Claire. "She murdered my husband, one of this century's outstanding spiritual leaders!"
The video cameraman had a hard time capturing it all on tape. The reporters continued to shout their questions into Claire's face. Those outside the office undulated toward the door like a tidal wave, gaining momentum, going over and around the desks of secretaries, fighting Crowder's staff and each other for better vantage points.
Claire's name rippled through the crowd as word of her confession spread. It was repeated with mounting hatred. Within moments, the crowd resembled a lynch mob.
"It was her all along!" she heard a man shout. "May her and French Silk be damned to eternal hell!" The animosity escalated. The shouts became louder, the epithets meaner. Crowder ordered the reporters to leave. He yanked the video photographer from his perch. That unbalanced the camera on the man's shoulder. It crashed to the floor, and he began angrily accusing Crowder of infringing on his first amendment rights.
Since the camera was no longer operative and therefore undamaging, Crowder ignored him and turned his attention to Ariel Wilde. "Get your flock out of here!"
"'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord,'" she cried, her eyes fanatically bright.
Cassidy, apparently galvanized to action by the increasing size of the crowd and their growing hostility, rushed toward Claire and wrapped his hand around her forearm. "If this keeps up they'll tear her to pieces." He had to shout to Crowder to make himself heard. "I'm getting her out of here."