Shadow of Doubt (A Kali O'Brien legal mystery) Read Online Free Page B

town like Silver Creek, would be so slipshod as to ignore the facts. “They can’t arrest a person without grounds,” I told her.
    “Please, Kali, just ask and see what you can learn. Benson was a friend of your father’s way back when, maybe he’ll talk to you.”
    “Daryl Benson?”
    She nodded. “He’s chief of police now.”
    Benson had been a fishing buddy of my father’s years ago, a high-spirited, jowly man who would occasionally show up on Thanksgiving and family holidays. I was never quite sure whether my mother actually expected him, or if somehow he simply found his way to our doorstep at the appropriate time. I’d only seen him in uniform once — on Senior Prom night he’d pulled over a carload of us and delivered a lecture about reckless driving. By that time, however, he’d stopped coming by the house, and mercifully hadn’t recognized me.
    “I haven’t seen him in years,” I told her. “I don’t think my father had seen much of him lately either.”
    “Besides,” Nona continued, undaunted, “you’re a lawyer. That’s got to mean something.”
    “It means they’d close the door in my face faster than ever.”
    “Please, just try.” Nona’s knuckles were almost white.
    “Why in the world would they suspect Jannine?” I asked. “They can’t build a case against her just because she’s his wife.”
    Nona turned and went back to spreading tuna fish. “No,” she said thinly, “but it seems it was her gun that killed him.”

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    I didn’t think the police would tell me much, and I was right. Daryl Benson wasn’t even at the station when I stopped by.
    “I’ll wait,” I told the dour-looking woman at the front desk. Certain clients did this to me on a regular basis. It drove me crazy, but I knew it sometimes worked.
    “No point waiting,” she barked. “He won’t be back until tomorrow.”
    “Can you tell me who’s in charge of the Eddie Marrero homicide?” I smiled pleasantly, but her expression didn’t soften in the slightest
    “Doug Southern, but you can’t see him either. He’s up to his eyeballs in the investigation.”
    “Is there anyone I could talk to then?”
    “Not about that there isn’t.”
    I smiled again. “Do they have any leads yet, any idea who killed him?”
    The woman glared at me. She was maybe late forties, early fifties, it was hard to tell. A casting director’s dream for sit-com army sergeant. “It’s not my place to comment,” she said stiffly, turning back to her work and dismissing me with about as much grace as I roll out for the Jehovah’s Witnesses who ring my bell first thing Saturday morning.
    I might have tried my luck with someone else, but there was no one else around. Wearily, I looked at my watch. Four-thirty. Waiting seemed like an exercise in futility, and I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since morning and then it was only the half-cup of coffee I’d managed to get down before opening the paper.
    I headed for the door. I’d been about as successful as I’d expected, but that didn’t prevent me from feeling discouraged.
    I’d have been a whole lot more discouraged, however, if I’d thought there was really anything to worry about. Given what Nona had said about the gun, it didn’t surprise me that the police had questioned Jannine. It sounded fairly routine. I was sure the whole thing would be sorted out in no time. Jannine was about as unlikely a killer as they’d find.
    Mike’s Place, across the street from City Hall, was a combination bar and hamburger joint I remembered from my youth. I’d never been there myself, but it was, at that time anyway, the hot spot for swaggering, cheeky young men armed with fake IDs. The place looked as though it hadn’t been touched in the intervening years, but the aroma of fried onions enticed my stomach before my more fastidious side had a chance to protest.
    The place was surprisingly crowded for that time of day and, not so surprisingly, very noisy. The pool table at