Don't Say a Word by Beverly Barton

and the judge were estranged?” Will asked, afraid of what Julia might say next, if the expression on her face meant anything.
    Iris finished her kissy-face tomfoolery with her dog and gave Will a supercilious smile. “We put on appearances, of course. We have a certain social standing, but we led separate lives. Surely you understand that. We went our own ways. End of story.”
    â€œDo you know anyone who might want him dead?”
    â€œOther than myself and most of his girlfriends, all of whom he treated like trash? Of course, most of them were trash. Except for my sister, who betrayed me with him, not a week after our wedding day.”
    Julia said, “Your husband had an affair with your sister?”
    â€œThat’s right. He seduced her. I can’t entirely blame her. She was only fifteen at the time, and drunk. She drinks way too much and loses all inhibitions with men, even back in those days. I haven’t seen or talked to her for years. She stays away at her place in Saint-Tropez, thank God.”
    â€œI see.” Julia seemed a bit nonplussed by the heartlessness of the woman.
    Will had never seen an icier, more bitter and undemonstrative woman—well, except when she was kissing her dogs. She was all over those poor dogs. From what he’d seen so far, the woman treated the dogs better than her help. For the first time, Will had a twinge of sympathy for Lucien Lockhart.
    â€œHave you received any calls, any kind of threatening messages, had any strangers hanging around?” Will asked the woman.
    â€œNo. Although Lucien did mention something about somebody or other being angry. Something about an outburst in court and that he sentenced the guy to five days in jail for contempt. You ought to go downtown and ask his clerk. She’ll know. She’ll know a lot of things about my husband.”
    Snide, yes. Contemptuous, yes. Insinuating, yes. “What exactly are you trying to tell us, Mrs. Lockhart?”
    â€œI think you know, Special Agent Brannock. And if you don’t, I’m sure your little friend here does.”
    â€œI’m not his little friend, ma’am. I’m his liaison partner and a homicide detective at the Chattanooga Police Department. But you’re right, I do understand your insinuation. And guess what? I don’t like insinuations; I like somebody to tell me the truth when I ask them a question and quit playing silly guessing games that waste my time. So, spit it out, Mrs. Lockhart. If your husband and his clerk had an affair, who is she, when did it happen, and is it still going on?”
    Well, that shut up the woman in white linen for a couple of seconds. Her dog, Flopsy, whined and looked at Julia as if she’d stolen his last gourmet doggie treat. So did Mopsy and Topsy. “Well, I declare, Detective ,” Iris said sarcastically, “you’ve got a cheeky mouth on you. I really don’t care for women who forget they’re ladies.”
    Will interjected before Julia pulled her weapon and bloodied up Iris’s pretty white living room. “Detective Cass is right. We’re here to find out who murdered your husband and why. So let’s quit all the recriminations and get down to business. What’s the clerk’s name?”
    Iris didn’t look chastised. She didn’t look like she was a warm-blooded human being, either. She looked like she might shed her skin at the end of the summer. “Her name is Jane Cansell. She’s been his charity lover for going on twenty years. She’s pathetic and needy and has that motive you mentioned a moment ago. He’s treated her worse than he treated me, and that’s saying something. She still dotes on him, whereas I learned to separate my feelings and emotions concerning him. He is nothing to me. His death means nothing to me, other than a lot of trouble and ugly publicity. I’ll be much better off without having to deal with him and his