French Silk(148)

"Why's he blowing the whistle on Petrie now?"

"It seems that Andre's second passion was Yasmine."

"That's true," Claire said. She told them about Andre's mother and the parallels between the two women. "Andre grew up resenting the distance his father kept from his mother, even though he supported her financially. A few days before Yasmine's suicide, he called me, terribly worried about her. He's sure to have seen the correlation between her tragic ending and his mother's."

Cassidy elaborated. "He knows that Yasmine killed herself over Petrie. And since Petrie's letting her name be dragged through the muck and circulating vicious lies about her, Andre no longer feels obligated to protect him. He swears on his mother's grave that Petrie spent the night at the Fairmont with Yasmine. He arrived shortly after eleven and left around seven the following morning, before Ariel discovered Wilde's body and we sealed the doors. Andre himself called Yasmine a cab. She went to the airport in time to meet Claire at the designated time. I'll bet no one at the Doubletree can swear under oath that they saw Petrie between eleven P.M. and seven A.M."

"Why would a jury believe this Andre fellow?"

"They'll believe him," Cassidy said confidently. "Furthermore, they'd believe Belle."

"His wife?" Crowder exclaimed.

"Right. It wouldn't surprise me if she knew about the murder. She's covered Alister's tracks this far, but somehow I don't think she'd go out on a limb if it involved murder."

"I don't think so either," Claire said quietly. "I only met her a few times, years ago, but she impressed me as a woman who values her own skin."

Crowder tugged on his lower lip. "Petrie might toss it back and say it was Yasmine who killed Wilde. She had motivation, and the murder weapon belonged to her. He might even accuse Ms. Laurent."

"He might." Cassidy said, grinning craftily. "But he'd still have to answer to spending the night at the Fairmont Hotel with his mistress. Either way, he's screwed. At the very least, he's guilty of ducking out when he had information pertinent to the investigation of a murder."

Cassidy leaned over Crowder's desk. "I want the bastard, Tony. I want to launch a full-fledged but covert investigation. He's got to be puzzling over why Claire made a confession and probably reasons correctly that she's doing it to protect either Yasmine or Mary Catherine. In any event, he thinks he's gotten away with murder. He hasn't."

Tony Crowder held Cassidy's stare for several moments, glanced at Claire, then returned his gaze to his deputy prosecutor. "Proceed with caution and absolute secrecy, but nail the son of a bitch."

* * *

Ariel Wilde answered Cassidy's knock with the cordiality of a rattlesnake poised to strike. Whatever she'd been about to say died on her lips when she saw who accompanied him.

"I thought she'd be behind bars by now."

"I asked Mr. Cassidy to arrange this meeting," Claire said. "May we come in?"

Radiating a hostile aura, the widow stepped aside and admitted them into her hotel room. Without specifying why, Cassidy had called an hour earlier, telling her that he wanted to see her and Joshua alone.

Josh, who'd been sprawled on a sofa and looking very unhappy about being there, rose to his feet when they came in. His eyes bounced between them, curious and wary in equal proportions.

"I'm waiting." Ariel crossed her arms over her middle. "I'm very busy this afternoon."

"Organizing more demonstrations?" Cassidy asked pleasantly.

"They're working, aren't they? They got her to confess."

"I didn't kill your husband, Mrs. Wilde."

"What!" Ariel rounded on Cassidy. "You're sleeping with her, right? So you're not letting her confession stick. Wait'll the media gets hold of this. You won't—"

"Mrs. Wilde." Claire spoke softly, but with such authority that Ariel fell silent. "I confessed because I thought I was protecting my mother. I thought she had killed your husband."

"Why would you think that? Your mother's a loony tune."

Claire pulled herself up to her full height and struggled to keep a reign on her temper. "My mother has emotional problems, yes. Their origins date back to over thirty years ago, when she fell in love with a young street preacher named Jack Collins, who went by the nickname of Wild Jack. He seduced her, robbed her of money, and deserted her, leaving her pregnant with his baby. Wild Jack Collins was Jackson Wilde. And I was the baby."

Ariel barked a harsh laugh. "What the hell are you trying to pull? Do you—"

"Shut up, Ariel." The unexpected rebuke came from Josh, who was staring closely at Claire. "I knew there was something… When I met you, I… You're my half-sister."

"Yes. Hello again, Josh." Smiling, Claire extended her hand. He reached out and shook it, but his eyes never wavered from hers. "I hope you'll forgive me for testing your character by offering you a bribe. You didn't disappoint me by refusing."

"This is all very touching," Ariel sneered, "but I'll be damned before I believe this crap."

"This much is true," Josh said. "Before he married my mother, Daddy was known as Wild Jack Collins. I once overheard my grandfather referring to him by that name, and it made Daddy mad as hell."