Final Warning. Sandra Robbins
poured from his body with each new caller.
C.J. almost felt sorry for him. He’d discarded his crumpled tie and loosened the top buttons on his shirt. His face was bright red. There was no denying it. Caleb Lawrence looked as if he’d been tied up, strapped to a spit and grilled until well-done.
Caleb finished his remarks to a caller, and she noted that the hour was almost up. Time for one more call. She leaned forward. “Hello, caller. Do you have a question for Councilman Lawrence?”
A soft chuckle sounded on the line. “For both of you, C.J.”
Her eyes widened. Fala. She should have checked the screen before she answered. Too late she saw the private number displayed. She glanced into the next room where Harley stood alone, grinning at her. He’d pushed his glasses up on his head and stood with his hands on his hips, his sagging pants held up by the belt underneath his potbelly.
She swallowed. “What’s your question?”
“I was just thinking about poor Mary Warren and wondered if the councilman knows whether the police have any leads in her murder yet.”
Caleb pulled the microphone toward him. “Not yet, but we expect to apprehend this lunatic soon.”
C.J. shook her head and grabbed for the mic, but he pushed her hand away.
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