Privileged Witness Page 8

  ''I couldn't agree more.'' Matthew set aside his glass with a sigh, sat upright and unrolled his shirtsleeves. Standing, he straightened his tie and went to Helen Crane. When he put out his hand she closed her fingers around it. Matthew gave her a little shake then he picked up his jacket.

  ''There isn't anything I should know, is there, Matthew? Anything about Grace or that attorney? Or you for that matter.''

  He shrugged into his coat and stooped to kiss the cheek his benefactress offered him.

  ''No, Helen. There's nothing more you should know about me and Grace.''

  CHAPTER 12

  Ten thirty at night and the restaurants were busy catering to people willing to pop for dinner as long as the place was air-conditioned. Others were sitting on the beach with their feet in the water. Some had brought sleeping bags hoping to catch some Zs along with a cool breeze. They got neither. The unseasonable temperature was relentless; the mercury was refusing to budge. Those without central air in the older houses and apartments would spend the night naked and spread-eagle on coverless beds cursing nighttime that melted too slowly into day. The only bright spot was that the thunderheads had moved on after a spate of half-hearted downpours. Now the coast sizzled instead of steamed.

  Josie ignored the trickles of sweat that coursed between her breasts, the sticky coat of perspiration on her skin. It was Max who suffered. The dog's tongue lolled out of his mouth, his panting was pitiful as he walked slowly by her side: tail down, head down, heart down. Josie let her mind wander to nothing in particular and everything all at once.

  A call was in to the D.A. and Josie had no illusions that it would be returned before Monday. Hannah and Faye were at The Bottle Inn celebrating. Archer had left a message telling her the weather was mild in Mexico. He hung up after promising to call again. Translation: he missed her. She would return the call later and reciprocate the sentiment. She ought to call summon Faye and Hannah home, offer to pick up ice cream, congratulate Hannah because she had sold so many of her paintings. Instead, Josie decided to bed Max down, try not to think about Grace McCreary, get her head in order and then call the Bottle Inn. It was a good plan that evaporated a second after it was formed.

  Matthew McCreary was leaning against the low wall that surrounded Josie's house. How long he'd been waiting she couldn't tell because he showed no relief or surprise as he watched her come. Josie didn't hurry even when he stood. He hadn't changed much. Tall and handsome, Matthew was the lithe athlete to Archer's strong man.

  ''Hello, Josie.''

  She stopped in front of him, Max held close to her knees.

  ''Have you seen Grace?''

  Matthew shook his head.

  ''When did you become such a bastard, Matthew?''

  ''Can I get back to you on that?'' he asked with only the barest hint of shame.

  Unamused, Josie gave him wide berth, went ‘round behind him and flipped the latch on the low gate. Matthew followed as naturally as if years hadn't passed and other lovers hadn't intruded. In that second Josie caught his scent and from the corner of her eye saw the curve of his lips. Damn if she didn't remember what love was like with him and that made her pulse quicken.

  Matthew closed the gate behind them and Josie smirked at her ridiculous self, at this situation. Trailing her, Max turned his head, unsure if the man who loitered behind was friend or foe. He skirted by Josie the minute the door was open and went for his water bowl. Her head down, Josie held onto the knob, shifted her weight and thought for only a minute before looking back.

  ''You've got five minutes, Matthew.'' She opened the door wider and he walked toward her, pausing before he passed.

  ''You look wonderful, Josie.''

  ''Take off that stupid jacket before you broil,'' she answered.

  ''Tim told me you wouldn't give him the time of day.''

  Matthew settled on the couch, tossing his jacket aside, crossing his legs, sitting as if he had always been there. Josie circled and took the big chair.

  ''I get nervous when I'm ambushed in a dark parking lot. I don't like that you sent the second string, Matthew. You should have come.'' Josie planted her elbows on the rolled arms of the chair and clasped her hands at chest level. ''Why didn't you tell me about Grace when we ere together?''

  ''Because I cared about us.''

  ''Oh, please.'' Josie chortled, a look of disappointment on her face. ''You can do better than that.''

  ''Think what you want.'' Matthew loosened his tie. ''But we were both tired of carrying around all that baggage about our parents leaving us or dying on us. Neither of us needed any more misery.''

  ''Grace wasn't your parent and she was alive,'' Josie reminded him.

  ''I didn't care whether she was or not. Grace was gone long before I met you. I never intended for her to be part of my life again so telling you would have served no purpose. Besides, you would have made me go find her.''

  ''All you had to do was tell me she existed,'' Josie countered. ''That would have been decent.''

  Matthew laughed outright, startling Josie. Archer, a man who kept his own counsel, didn't throw his head back and laugh like that, he didn't lounge on the sofa, comfortable in her house as if he owned it even if he had every right. Yet, here was Matthew acting like it was yesterday, as if the day was long and it was good to be together at night.

  ''When has a lawyer ever worried about being decent?'' he asked. ''They have a class at law school that teaches you how to get people to talk about things they don't want to talk about. If you'd really wanted to know details about my family you would have pushed until I caved.'' Those arms came off the back of the sofa, the beautiful laugh was gone as he got down to it. ''I didn't want to remember Grace much less talk about her. As far as I was concerned she was as dead as my parents.''

  ''Then why the resurrection? Did you want to round out your family for the campaign posters?'' Josie drawled.

  Matthew rested his elbows on his knees. His shoulders were broad, his legs long. He was tan, sinewy and he was a damn handsome man who carried something under his skin that Josie had always found irresistible.

  ''I can see where you might be a little ticked off at me for not telling you about Grace but, truthfully, Josie, I'm not really worried about how you're feeling right about now. My wife is dead and the police think my sister killed her. My plate is kind of full with women who have problems.''

  ''You're right. You don't owe me a thing.'' Even if Matthew couldn't see the burn of embarrassment, he knew it was there. He knew her too well. ''That's not my beef, Matthew. The fact that you weren't with Grace tonight tells me you might think she had something to do with your wife's death? Do you think that?''

  ''God, no. Of course not,'' Matthew shook his head emphatically. ''Grace loved Michelle.''

  ''Then why weren't you there?'' Josie insisted. ''It was pitiful how worried she was about you.''

  Matthew's head pulled up ever so slightly. A mirror of Grace's involuntary gesture. There was that same glint deep in the eye, that same peevishness that flickered when either brother or sister felt cornered. Funny, Josie had never noticed that in Matthew before. Yet, as quickly as she saw the flash of annoyance it was gone. ''Grace is very loyal and I'm very cautious. Bottom line, when I got word of this I was with a group of very important, very nervous people.''

  ''Money type people?'' Josie asked, unable to keep the disdain from her voice.

  ''People who have a lot invested in me,'' he answered. ''They have connections. They have expectations. Politics does make strange bedfellows and I wasn't going to kick off the covers and go running until everyone was tucked in tight. I'm not going to apologize for that.''

  ''I didn't ask you to,'' Josie pointed out.

  ''You look disgusted; like you just found out I still go to frat parties. I guess in a way I do. I don't blame you for being disappointed,'' he chuckled sadly. ''The parties are the same just the people are older and the booze is better. These people have a right to be nervous and they expect me
to act in their best interests.''

  ''I don't think I like those people,'' Josie said.

  ''That was pretty clear when we parted ways. Politics were never for you. Do you know they conducted a poll on how many sympathy votes I was going to get after Michelle died?''

  ''That's disgusting,'' Josie scoffed.

  ''It is. It never occurred to them to think about my feelings.'' Matthew touched the coffee table. He ran a finger along the fine edge. ''Now they'll do another poll. They'll want to find out if I'm still perceived as the stiff-upper-lip, grieving widower or a shadowy man related to two very disturbed women.''

  ''Are you?'' Josie asked. ''Related to two disturbed women?''

  ''All three of us had issues. I'd venture to guess you still have a few, too.''

  ''Enough to kill for?'' Josie asked, ignoring the personal reference.

  ''No, and that's the truth,'' Matthew stated flatly. ''But, still, there was damage control to be done and I did it. Besides, keeping this as quiet as possible, for as long as possible, would give you and Grace time to sort things out. Hopefully you could get her home. Grace's arrest, Michelle's suicide and an ex-lover retained to defend my sister would bring an incredible amount of attention.'' Matthew sat back and looked around. ''If I read this set up right – the beach house, the dog - you're nesting and you don't want to upset the status quo. I didn't want to see any of our faces splashed all over the front page tomorrow either so I sent Tim to tell you all that. In true Josie fashion, you blew him off.''

  ''Nice speech.'' Knowing the wrist slap was warranted she gave him an inch. ''Do you want a drink?''

  ''Before you bring out the chips and salsa, maybe I should tell you that I'm not thrilled Grace has retained you.''

  ''Don't let the nest fool you, Matthew.'' Josie hesitated under the half finished arch between the living room and dining room. ''I've still got the smarts.''

  ''What about the leverage? Grace is in jail. I think a bigger firm might have brought some pressure to bear.''

  ''You're wrong. The DA was dug in.''

  ''Okay, but your resources are still limited. I know you're a sole practitioner.''

  ''I'm of counsel with a small firm. When that's not enough, I'll tell you.''

  Matthew got up and walked around the living room, touching things. He put his hands on the glass of the French doors and looked onto the darkened patio. Josie, her shoulder against the wall, her arms crossed, watched and waited.

  ''Did you know the first thing that happens when you decide to run for office is the party asks if you have anything to hide. It's like a psychic strip search. Do you have a fetish? A girlfriend? A boyfriend? Have you ever killed anyone? Do you think you see aliens?'' Matthew chuckled and then went on dreamily, as if he was thinking back to the beginning of a great adventure only to realize it hadn't been so wonderful after all. ''They want to know if you have a relative who might make trouble. So I told them about being estranged from Grace and I told them I didn't want to contact her. ''

  ''What were you afraid of?'' Josie asked.

  ''Everything,'' he chuckled quietly and turned his back to the bank of doors. ''Grace was a hurt, rebellious girl when she took off. I figured she'd turned into an angry, resentful woman. I also wasn't sure how this would set with Michelle since I hadn't filled her in on Grace either.''

  ''Bet she was as thrilled as I was,'' Josie drawled.

  ''Actually, my wife was a bit more gracious.'' Matthew admitted. ''Grace turned out to be a bridge between my home life and my political one. Everyone wanted Grace to be where we could keep an eye on her - except me, of course. What I wanted didn't matter. It was always about what the campaign needed. So you see, public or private, my life is the stuff of soap operas and I think a big firm might be able to deal with this new twist a little better than a good looking woman in a beach house.''

  Matthew shrugged. The argument had its merits but Josie was unconvinced.

  ''So you'd rather anticipate the worst instead of finding out the truth,'' Josie suggested. ''Ever think you're just making this too complicated too fast, Matthew?''

  Josie let him think about it all for a minute while she went to the kitchen and poured him a glass of wine and got a bottle of beer for herself. When she returned, she sat on the couch and held the glass out. Matthew took it and sat next to her.

  ''Look,'' Josie said. ''Grace has already retained me. I've put in the initial calls. Monday morning, if I can't make this disappear or bail her, then we can talk to Grace about making a change. But I think hiring a large firm would draw exactly the kind of attention you don't want. I also think Grace should make her own decisions unless you're footing the bill.''

  ''No. No.'' Matthew shook his head and set aside his glass. There was weariness in his voice now. ''I inherited the company but Grace has always shared fifty-fifty in the profits.''

  ''That was generous of you considering you did all the work.''

  ''Generosity has nothing to do with it,'' Matthew assured her. ''My parent's will was specific. Grace and I shared half of everything unless one of us contested the will. If we did that, we got nothing. I'm not even sure Grace was aware of the stipulation. She never asked to see the will. She never asked where the money came from. It was automatically deposited in the same bank as a trustee until she was eighteen. She never changed the arrangement except to retain an investment counselor at that bank at some point. As far as I was concerned, she was just another entry on the balance sheet.''

  ''Grace never worked in the business?''

  ''Nope,'' Matthew answered. ''She ran away from school then she ran away from home. By the time she was nineteen I stopped looking for her. I had a life to live and a company to run. I let her go.''

  ''And now?'' Josie prodded.

  ''And now,'' Matthew clucked, raising his eyes to heaven. ''Now, I will do what needs to be done because Michelle would want it and Grace is innocent of whatever charges they've trumped up. She turned into a good woman, Josie. I don't want to see her railroaded.''

  ''Did you know Grace was on the balcony when Michelle jumped?'' Josie asked this without preamble.

  Matthew dropped his head, he lowered his eyes. He was close enough that Josie could see a sparkling of silver in the dark waves of his hair and the clenching of his jaw as he absorbed the information.

  ''She told you that?'' he asked quietly.

  `''She did,'' Josie confirmed.

  ''Damn.'' His head swung back and forth.

  ''It doesn't mean anything except that she was stupid not to tell anyone before now.'' Josie dipped her head trying to catch Matthew's eye. ''Look. Grace told me she was trying to stop Michelle and I believe her.''

  ''You do?''

  ''I've seen the coroner's report. I've seen the crime scene report. I don't believe for an instant that Grace is guilty of first degree murder. But if you know something that would change my mind, tell me now, Matthew.''

  Josie put both hands on his shoulders and held tight. He was trembling like a man ill-prepared for the sudden frigid wind that had kicked up. Josie's hands slipped down his arms to his hands. Matthew's fingers intertwined with hers. It had been a long time since they had touched but it seemed no more than a moment ago. If she closed her eyes then opened them fast the intervening years would be gone and they would be lovers again. Young. All those wonderful things meant nothing when you had them and everything when you didn't. Matthew leaned closer, pulling her hands toward his chest, whispering, needing her, tightening his hold.

  ''All I know is. . .'' Matthew whispered only to pull up short when they heard the door open.

  ''I'm home. . .''

  Startled, Josie looked over her shoulder, Matthew's head pulled up and both of them stared at Hannah Sheraton who stared right back, her green eyes sparking and a scowl on her face.

  CHAPTER 13

  ''You should have come to dinner with us. He could have gone to the office on Monday. You didn't have to see him.''

  ''I don't have to do any
thing, Hannah,'' Josie reminded her. ''But it made a lot of sense to take the time to hear what Matthew had to say, don't you think?''

  Josie leaned against the door jamb of the room that had once been her office. It had become Hannah's place without either of them really making a decision about it. There were clothes on the chair, on the floor, spilling out of drawers. Near the window stood Hannah's easel, a jumble of paints and brushes in an order only she understood. The red lacquer stool Hannah had brought from the Malibu house, the last place she had lived with her own mother, was by the bed. In the corner was a desk with Hannah's books, a picture of Josie torn out of the newspaper when she had defended Archer after he'd been accused of killing his stepson. There were cosmetics and scarves. There was a jar of seashells, a gift from Billy Zuni, that Hannah pretended meant nothing. The fact that the jar had not been relegated to the trash or a closet told a different story.

  Now Hannah was sitting on her bed, cross-legged, her hair plaited into two braids that she pinned atop her head. She was beautiful. She was a pain in the ass. Hannah thought the world revolved around her when, in fact, it revolved around no one. Not a teenager, not a politician, not even a woman in jail.

  ''Yeah, I guess it was smart,'' she mumbled, attending to the purple polish on her fingernails. ''It just looked weird to have a guy here. I mean a guy who isn't Archer.''

  ''Matthew McCreary is a very old friend whose sister is in trouble. This wasn't exactly the way I would have chosen to see him again but I wasn't going to turn him away.''

  Hannah's gaze slid toward Josie, ''I think he's more than a friend.''

  ''And you say that because?'' Josie led her on, curious about what Hannah thought she had seen.

  ''Have you forgotten how many men my mother had around?'' Hannah answered smugly. ''It's not hard to tell.''

  ''And have you forgotten I'm not your mother?''

  ''It doesn't matter. Sometimes there's just the pull, you know? Like my mom. She used to say that sometimes there was just something about a man that made her crazy. I'm never going to be like that. I didn't think you were like that.''