Fat Tuesday Read Online Free Page A

wounded. His bullet-proof vest had deflected potentially fatal shots, but he'd been hit in the thigh, the bullet narrowly missing his femoral artery. Another bullet had shattered his ulna.
    "The doctor testified at trial that Stuart was probably in shock, but that he would have recovered from those wounds," Remy said."They were serious, but not life threatening."
    "But your husband destroyed the doctor's credibility."
    Pinkie held up a hand as though to say that he didn't need anyone to come to his rescue, particularly since the one challenging him was his own wife."Put yourself in Mr. Bardo's place, darling," he said.
    "One man lay dead, another was wounded and bleeding. Mr. Bardo reasoned correctly that he had inadvertently walked into a very dangerous situation.
    "He thought that perhaps the men outside weren't police officers as they claimed, but were in fact Mr. Jenkins's business rivals impersonating officers. Toot Jenkins had been dealing with an Asian gang.
    These gang members can be extremely clever, you know " "Officer Stuart was red-haired and freckled. He could hardiy be mistaken for an Asian." One of the guests chuckled and said, "Touche, Pinkie. Too bad for the D.A. Remy wasn't arguing his case."
    Pinkie laughed along with the others at the mild put-down, but perhaps only Remy noticed that his laughter was forced. His eyes moved over her.
    "Remy in a court of law? I hardly think so. Her talents lie elsewhere." As he said that, he ran his fingertip across her low neckline.
    Everyone else laughed, but a hot flush of humiliation and anger surged through her."Excuse me. I haven't eaten anything yet." She turned away from the group.
    She had an opinion on what had happened the night Stuart died but it wouldn't be prudent to air it in front of Pinkie and his friends.
    They were celebrating his client's acquittal, not his innocence, which weren't necessarily one and the same.
    She didn't believe for a moment that Wayne Bardo had been confused when gunfire erupted. He had known exactly what he was doing when he lifted the wounded policeman off the floor of the warehouse and used him as a shield when he went through the dark, open doorway, drawing fire from any other law enforcement agents who might have taken cover outside the building.
    Unfortunately, Burke Basile had excellent reflexes, and he was an expert marksman. Believing he was firing at an assailant, he'd gone for a head shot, and his aim had been true. The jury's verdict had laid all the blame for Stuart's death at his feet.
    Making good her lie about being hungry, she went into the formal dining room, where, as she had expected, the buffet was a gourmand's delight.
    Sterling silver chafing dishes were brimming with steaming crawfish etouffee, red beans and rice, and barbecued shrimp steeping in a sauce so fiery that the aroma alone caused her eyes to tear.
    Raw oysters on the half shell lay upon trays of ice. A chef was carving slices of ham and roast beef off enormous slabs of meat. There were deviled eggs and deviled crab, along with salads and side dishes and sausages, breads and desserts to suit every palate. The sight and smell of so much rich food didn't pique Remy's appetite, but rather made her slightly queasy.
    Glancing around, she saw that Pinkie was now conversing with some of the recently dismissed jurors. They appeared to be enthralled by whatever he was saying, and he loved having an audience, so he wouldn't miss her for a while.
    Unnoticed, she slipped through a French door into the relative quiet and seclusion of the backyard. The air was cold enough to make vapor of her breath, but the chill actually felt good against her exposed skin.
    She moved along the pathway that led to the gazebo. The lacy wrought-iron structure with the onion-shaped dome roof was located in a far corner of the property. It was one of her favorite spots.
    Whenever she desperately needed seclusion, or a semblance of it, she retreated to the gazebo.
    Stepping into the