French Silk(145)

"Yesterday Claire was afraid I would remember that and put two and two together, just as she had, so she quickly confessed to throw me off track."

Crowder exhaled a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. He fixed his most intimidating frown on Claire. "Is Cassidy's assumption correct?"

She glanced up at Cassidy, who gave her a terse nod. Trusting him came more easily this time. She reached for his hand. He firmly clasped hers.

"Yes, Mr. Crowder," she admitted quietly. "Shortly after the murder, Yasmine mentioned to me that her gun had been missing but had mysteriously reappeared. That was when it first occurred to me that Mama might have taken it, used it, then replaced it. She had been in the Fairmont Hotel that night and showed more than a passing interest in the news stories about Jackson Wilde and the murder case."

"But you didn't tell Cassidy any of this."

"No. In fact, each time Ariel Wilde brought my mother's name up, I panicked. I was afraid that someone, particularly Mr. Cassidy, might discover that Jackson Wilde was her long lost lover, which would certainly provide her with motivation to kill him. I thought of taking legal action to silence Mrs. Wilde, but was advised by an attorney that litigation would only spark more interest. I wanted to avoid that at all costs."

"You could be charged with obstruction of justice."

"I would protect my mother with my dying breath, Mr. Crowder. She poses no threat to the rest of society, and I don't sit in judgment of her for taking her revenge on Wild Jack Collins."

"You figured that after a while Cassidy would give up, call off the investigation, and the case would go unsolved."

"I was hoping that's the way it would be."

"What if we'd convicted somebody else?"

"It would never have happened. You had no evidence."

"You had it all thought out, I see," he said, regarding her with a degree of admiration.

"All but one element. I didn't think that Yasmine's gun would ever be fired again." She glanced down and touched the bracelet around her wrist. "When Cassidy told me that it was the weapon that had been used to kill Wilde, I confessed so that my mother wouldn't fall under suspicion."

She looked at Crowder imploringly. "She can't be held accountable. She doesn't even realize she's done anything wrong. It would be like a child killing a scorpion that's stung him and caused tremendous pain. She probably doesn't even remember now that—"

"Claire, you don't have to worry about Mary Catherine," Cassidy said. "She didn't kill Wilde." His confident statement took them by surprise.

"How do you know?" Crowder asked.

"Because he was shot by Congressman Alister Petrie."





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Chapter 33

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"This is getting silly."

Belle Petrie, who was making her bed, gave her husband a quizzical glance. "What's silly, dear?"

Petrie felt an almost overwhelming urge to piss on the carpet, send the étagère full of Baccarat crystal crashing to the floor, or place his hands around her throat and choke the life out of her. He wanted to do something rash to destroy the cool scorn with which his wife had been treating him.

"I'm getting tired of sleeping in the guest room, Belle," he said testily. "How much longer am I going to be condemned to marital Siberia? I've admitted to being a naughty boy, so when will you permit me to sleep in my own goddamn bed?"

"Lower your voice. The children will hear you."

He lunged at her, knocked the decorative bolster pillow from her hand, and took her roughly by the shoulders. "I've apologized a thousand times. What more do you want?"

"I want you to let go of me." The words were as sharp and brittle as icicles. Coupled with the arctic glint in her eyes, they served to dismantle Alister's temper tantrum. He released her and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, Belle. This last month has been a living nightmare."

"Yes. I imagine that having your mistress blow her brains out in front of your daughter could put a wrinkle in your month."

"Christ. You won't give an inch, will you?"

He'd apologized repeatedly for his affair and its ghastly denouement. So far, his apologies hadn't made a dent in Belle's tough armor. The marital harmony that had been briefly reestablished when he broke off the affair with Yasmine had been shattered again by her sensationalized suicide. When her revolver was linked to the Wilde murder, he'd panicked and thrown himself on Belle's mercy, pleading for her help.

"I've done everything you told me to do, Belle," he said now. "I confessed my affair to Tony Crowder and that Cassidy character." Petrie's eyes turned dark. "If I can help it, he'll never get that D.A.'s office. Smug son of a bitch. You should have heard the way he talked to me. He attacked me physically!"

She appeared singularly unsympathetic.

"Okay, so I got myself in a mess. We had to stop Cassidy's investigation before my affair with Yasmine became public. In order to do that, I called in a favor from Crowder. I didn't like standing there in front of them with my pants down, but I did it because you advised me to, and, in retrospect, I think it was good advice. Crowder ordered Cassidy to redirect his investigation, pronto. In a day or two no one will remember Yasmine's suicide because everyone's attention will be on that Laurent broad's confession. Now, can't we drop this subject once and for all? Can I sleep in my own bed tonight?"