her for trying. She hasn’t much else to grab on to.”
“You think she’ll be convicted?”
“I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess. But from what my news staff tells me, it sounds likely.”
“You mean that reporter? Annie something?”
“Annie Berenger. Yes, she’s assigned to the story.”
“Can I talk to her?”
Jill frowned. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to understand who this Miranda Wood really is. Why she would kill.” He sat back, ran his hand through his hair. “I still can’t quite fit the pieces together. I thought, maybe someone who’s been watching the case—someone who knew her personally...”
“Of course. I understand.” The words were sympathetic but her eyes were indifferent. “I’ll send Annie in to talk to you.”
She left. A moment later Annie Berenger appeared.
“Come in,” said Chase. “Have a seat.”
Annie shut the door and sat in the chair across from him. She looked like a reporter: frizzy red hair streaked with gray, sharp eyes, wrinkled slacks. She also reeked of cigarettes. It brought back memories of his father. All she needed was a splash of whiskey on her breath. A good old newsman’s smell.
She was watching him with clear suspicion. “Boss lady says you want to talk about Miranda.”
“You knew her pretty well?”
“The word is know. Present tense. Yes, I do.”
“What do you think of her?”
Her mouth twitched into a smile. “This is your own private investigation?”
“Call it my quest for the truth. Miranda Wood denies killing my brother. What do you think?”
Annie lit a cigarette. “You know, I used to cover the police beat in Boston.”
“So you’re familiar with murder.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Leaning back, she thoughtfully exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Miranda had the motive. Oh, we all knew about the affair. It’s hard to hide something like that in this newsroom. I tried to, well, advise her against it. But she follows her heart, you know? And it got her into trouble. That’s not to say she did it. Killed him.” Annie flicked off an ash. “I don’t think she did.”
“Then who did?”
Annie shrugged.
“You think it’s tied to the Tony Graffam story?”
Annie’s eyebrow shot up. “You dig stuff up fast. Must run in the family, that newsman’s nose.”
“Miranda Wood says Richard had a story about to break. True?”
“He said he did. I know he was writing it. He had a few more details to check before it went to print.”
“What details?”
“Financial data, about Stone Coast Trust. Richard had just got his hands on some account information.”
“Why didn’t the article get to print?”
“Honest opinion?” Annie snorted. “Because Jill Vickery didn’t want to risk a libel suit.”
Chase frowned. “But Jill says the article doesn’t exist. That Richard never wrote it.”
Annie blew out a last breath of smoke and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Here’s a piece of wisdom for you, Mr. T,” she said. She looked him in the eye. “Never trust your editor.”
* * *
Did the article exist or didn’t it?
Chase spent the next hour searching the files in Richard’s office. He found nothing under G for Graffam or S for Stone Coast Trust. He tried a few more headings, but none of them panned out. Did Richard keep the file at home?
It was late afternoon when he finally returned to the house. To his relief, Evelyn and the twins were out. He had the place to himself. He went straight into Richard’s home office and continued his search for the Graffam file.
He didn’t find it. Yet Miranda claimed it existed. So did Annie Berenger.
Something strange was going on, something that added to all his doubts about Miranda’s guilt. He mentally played back all the holes in the prosecution’s case. The lack of fingerprints on the murder weapon. The fact she had passed the polygraph test. And the woman herself—proud, unyielding in her protestations