Witness to Murder. Jill Nelson Elizabeth
you and me, I think she’s more than a little shook up about her experience this afternoon. We’d probably be doing her a favor to let her enjoy the party without any nasty reminders.”
Stan bobbed his head. “Gotcha! You can count on me to zip my lips—especially when I’m filling them with stuff like this.”
“Hi, guys.” Jenna wandered up to them. “Are you finding everything to your satisfaction?”
“Stan here fell in love at first bite,” Brody said. He performed introductions between the cameraman and one of Hallie’s best friends. “I’m told that Jenna’s the lead chef and part owner of The Meridian.”
“You made this ambrosia?” Stan gestured with the piece of seafood wrap between his fingers. “The touch of cumin draws out the natural sweetness of the crab meat. Perfecto!”
“Spot on.” Color tinted the woman’s cheeks. “What an amazing palate you have.”
Stan’s face lit like she’d handed him an award. She gazed back, a tiny, bemused smile playing around her mouth.
Okay, third wheel here. Brody turned away, shaking his head. Did Hallie notice how he ran interference for her? He looked her direction and found her staring at him, the corners of her lips turned down. She might as well have shouted at him—what are you up to? Brody sighed. He’d known thawing the Queen of Sheba would be a tough task.
He kept his distance through the birthday song, the cake and the cards, but as people began to leave, he edged closer to his target. At last, with only a couple of die-hard guests left, he noticed Hallie stifling a yawn.
Nearby, Jenna laughed, Stan at her elbow, where he’d hovered most of the evening.
“Tough day?” Jenna asked.
“And then some.” Hallie’s gaze met Brody’s then darted away.
That determined smile materialized. Was he the only one who picked up on the shadows in her eyes? Or maybe he only imagined the hovering hurt because of his own concerns. He should wait until another time to ask his questions…No, he couldn’t. Damon was out there, a fugitive, and this woman’s testimony could end his freedom and his career.
“This was great.” Hallie swept a hand around the room. “I can’t believe you guys went to all this trouble.”
Samantha walked up, and threaded her arm through Ryan’s. “Just wait and see what we do for the big three-oh.”
Hallie planted a hand on her hip. “You have a death wish?” Everyone laughed, but Hallie’s chuckle cut off short. “Methinks it’s this old woman’s bedtime.”
“That statement coming from the night owl?” Samantha shook her head, grinning.
“We’ll walk you to your car,” Ryan said. “It’s dark now.”
“No need.” Brody stepped forward. “I’m heading out anyway.”
Hallie blinked like he’d snapped his fingers in front of her face, but didn’t object when he took her elbow and guided her to the door amidst a chorus of goodbyes. Outside the private room, she disengaged herself from his grasp and walked ahead of him through the restaurant. Male heads turned as she went past. Brody drew himself up taller and stayed close on her heels.
They exited into the halogen-lit parking lot, and Hallie glanced over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.” The words came out pinched, but at least she said them.
Questions pooled behind his lips as they crossed the asphalt, but he held them in. The darkness smelled of car exhaust, cooking fumes and cooling tar.
She walked around to the driver’s side of her coupe and gazed over the car roof at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Cruise me around to my car. It’s on the other side of the lot.”
She grimaced, but the sound of electronic locks releasing met his ears. He hopped in on the passenger side before she could change her mind.
“Don’t start it,” he said as she inserted the key into the ignition. “We need to talk. Damon didn’t kill Alicia.”
“So that’s what this was about. Attending the party. The emergency napkin. Walking me to the car. You want a private interview with the witness to a crime involving a sports figure.”
Her cynical snort sent his nostrils flaring. The woman could rile a sleeping turtle. “Sure, I came to the party to talk to you, but I don’t care about an interview. Vince is handling the story.”
Her brows disappeared beneath groomed bangs. “Then what’s your interest?”
“The police are looking for the wrong man. Damon’s no murderer. I need to know exactly what you saw in that house.” Did he sound as frustrated as he felt? Why had he thought Hallie might spill her guts to him, of all people?
Hallie’s shoulders slumped. “I keep replaying that scene in my head.” Her gaze was fixed straight ahead. Weariness hung on her like an old coat.
Brody’s conscience stirred, but now was not a good time to go soft.
She turned her face in his direction, chin jutting out. “I walked in on Damon crouched over Alicia’s sprawled body. He was moaning and carrying on like someone who’s done something terrible and can never take it back. When he heard me, he leaped up with a braided cord in his hand. Alicia was strangled, so don’t tell me Damon didn’t kill her.”
“You didn’t actually see him put that cord around her throat and pull it tight.”
She shuddered visibly. “If I had, I would have clobbered him.”
“I can believe that.” Brody let out a dry chuckle. “But I still don’t believe Damon killed Alicia. Did you notice anything about the scene that didn’t add up?”
“We-e-ell.” Hallie frowned and looked way. “I don’t suppose these things are ever neat little slam dunks, but there were a couple of things.”
Silence fell for several heartbeats. “What things?” Brody prompted.
She met his gaze. “I did wonder why bits of glass were scattered on top of the body. If there was a struggle before the murder, why wasn’t all the debris under the body? And why didn’t she have defensive bruises on her hands, which she would have used to shield her face? I think somebody stronger than she was sat on her, beat her and strangled her, and then they trashed the room in an excess of fury. Anger followed by regret is Damon’s modus operandi, considering the numerous times he’s blown up and apologized later on the basketball court.”
“Impressive. Even the assumptions about Damon are detective level observations.”
“More than you expected out of someone like me?” Her tone had an edge he couldn’t define.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that question, but Vince would probably tell you it’s amazing for anyone unused to dealing with crime scenes to keep so much presence of mind.”
Her eyes widened. “Thank you.”
Brody’s insides warmed. Mark this one down in the history books. Hallie Berglund expressed sincere gratitude to Brody Jordan. He opened his mouth to ask what more she’d noticed, but his cell phone began to play. He popped the phone open and answered. Heavy breathing came over the line, and his belly muscles tensed.
“You’ve got to help me,” a familiar voice whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Damon?”
Hallie gasped and her huge, dark eyes riveted on him.
FOUR
How could Brody sit and talk so calmly to a brutal murderer? Oh, that’s right. Hallie curled a lip. He didn’t think a talented basketball star could also be a supreme creep.
“That’s