French Silk(143)

"I thought you'd take me directly to the sheriff's office," she remarked as she was being hustled into the elevator. "Isn't that where I'll be formally booked?"

"Mr. Cassidy instructed us to bring you to the D.A.'s office," the male cop informed her.

"Do you know why?"

"No, ma'am."

She was taken directly to Tony Crowder's office. The outer area seemed to have suffered no adverse effects from the chaos that had taken place there the day before. Secretaries were at their desks, going about their business. Crowder's personal secretary stood as they approached. She held open the door for Claire and closed it behind her immediately, leaving her alone with the district attorney.

He was seated behind his desk. His expression was grave. Annoyance showed in his eyes. Brusquely he said, "Good morning, Ms. Laurent."

"Good morning."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"Sit down." Once she was seated in the chair he indicated, he said, "I apologize for what happened in this office yesterday afternoon."

"I was partially responsible, Mr. Crowder."

"But your safety was placed in jeopardy. That's inexcusable. We beefed up the security this morning."

"I noticed. I also want to thank you for posting policemen at French Silk. Although my business no longer has a future, I'd hate for it to be destroyed by vandals."

"That was Cassidy's idea."

"I see," she said softly. "I must remember to thank him."

"He's due here in a matter of minutes. Don't ask me why."

"You don't know?"

"Haven't a clue. He called before I was even out of bed this morning and arranged this meeting." He clasped his hands on the edge of his desk and leaned toward her. "Ms. Laurent, did you kill Jackson Wilde?"

"Yes."

"With your friend's gun?"

"Yes."

"How long has Cassidy known this for fact?"

The door behind her opened with gust of air and a blast of energy that was palpable. She quickly turned. Cassidy's stride was long and confident as he advanced into the office. His hair had been washed and neatly combed. He had shaved recently. His dark suit was wrinkle-free from the fitted vest hugging his torso to the hem of his trousers that broke the vamp of his shoes in exactly the right spot.

"Good morning, Tony."

Claire was taken aback. She didn't know this Cassidy. This wasn't the Cassidy who had made love to her with matching degrees of tenderness and fervency, who whispered words of passion in her ear while his body moved within hers, who had touched her in ways, both emotionally and physically, that no one else ever had. This Cassidy was a stranger.

"Good morning, Claire."

His voice was the same. His handsome features were dear and beloved to her. It was the well-tailored suit that put her off. That bureaucratic uniform had made him her adversary from the moment he walked in the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Cassidy," she replied in a husky undertone.

"Can I get either of you some coffee before we begin?"

"Forget the coffee," Crowder said crossly. "What's this about? As a courtesy, shouldn't Glenn be in on this?"

"He's otherwise occupied. I'll get to that later." Cassidy wasted no time but came straight to the point. "Claire's confession was phony. She didn't kill Jackson Wilde."

"Oh for Christ's sake!" Crowder exploded. "She sat right there not thirty seconds before you breezed in here and admitted to me that she did."

"She's lying." Cassidy looked down at Claire with a trace of a smile. "She has a bad habit of that."

"She appears to be in full control of her faculties. Why would she confess to a felony homicide she didn't commit?" Crowder demanded to know.

"To protect someone else from prosecution."

"That's not true!" Claire exclaimed.

"She says that's not true," Crowder echoed. "Bear with me, Tony," Cassidy said. "Give me five minutes."

"I'm counting."

"Last night I had Claire re-create the crime for me."

"Without a lawyer present? Jesus." Crowder dragged his hands down his face.

"Just shut up and listen," Cassidy said impatiently. "Claire waived her right to have an attorney present, but it doesn't matter. She didn't kill Wilde. She wasn't even there."

"You mean at the murder scene?"

"That's exactly what I mean." He fished something from his breast pocket and handed it to Claire. "Read the part that's underlined."

"What is it?" Crowder asked.

"It's a portion of the press release we issued to the media the morning following the murder."

Claire scanned the underlined sentences. They described the scene of the crime. "I don't understand."

"The statement is inaccurate," Cassidy told her. "Deliberately so. I planted a bogus fact to weed out the crazies and chronic confessors who invariably surface after a sensational murder."

Claire's heart began to beat hard against her ribs. She reread the sentences, frantically trying to pinpoint which detail might be a decoy.