Free The Fine Art of Murder by Jessica Fletcher Page A

going to do?”
    He cocked his head.
    “Get her locked up. You think I want me and Wayne to be sleeping in the same house with a killer?”
    “She hasn’t been proven guilty of anything,” Corman replied.
    “You heard what Wayne said, didn’t you?”
    “Yes, I did, Mrs. Simsbury, but you don’t lock people up based upon an unsubstantiated accusation. Would you be more comfortable staying someplace else tonight?”
    “Leave this house?” she fairly snarled. “This is my house. I own it. She’s the one who should leave, spend the night in a jail cell.” With that she spun her chair around and left. “I’d better barricade my door.”
    Corman exhaled and raised his eyebrows.
    “What will you do?” I asked.
    “Deliver a copy of Wayne’s statement to the DA’s office. They’ll want to—”
    Marlise reappeared. She’d changed clothes and pulled a small rolling suitcase behind her.
    “Jessica, dear, I am so sorry that you had to walk into this mess. Please forgive me.”
    “There’s nothing to forgive, Marlise. I feel terrible for you. Are you leaving?”
    “I couldn’t possibly stay the night in this house filled with hate, that nasty old woman and now Wayne turning against me.”
    “I need to know how to contact you,” Corman said. “The district attorney and the police will want to question you based on Wayne’s statement.”
    “The Four Seasons on East Delaware,” she said. “Jonathon kept a suite there that he used for business visitors.” She turned to me. “Jessica, dear, this awful situation has made me lose my manners. You’re welcome to stay with me, of course. There’s plenty of room.”
    “Thank you, Marlise, but I’ve already booked a hotel.”
    “Well, I hope I can count on you to stick around a little while. I can see I’m going to need all the support I can get, with everyone I thought I had on my side turning against me. Willard, surely there’s a way to make the district attorney see that Wayne is lying.”
    “I’ll do everything I can. Mrs. Fletcher and I were just leaving. Can we drop you at the hotel?”
    “That isn’t necessary. Carl, our driver, is taking me. He should be out front by now. Again, Jessica, I can only apologize for the scene you’ve been forced to witness.”
    “Don’t give it a second thought, Marlise. I just want to see you exonerated.”
    Which was true, assuming that her stepson was lying.
    But if he wasn’t . . .

Chapter Eight
    N o one else came to the room after Marlise left, so Corman and I let ourselves out. His driver was waiting and we climbed into the backseat. “The Ambassador East,” Corman instructed.
    “Quite a day,” I commented.
    “I’ve been thrown curves before by witnesses, but this takes the cake. A stepson charging his stepmother with the murder of his father. He didn’t give you any inkling that he intended to make the charge?”
    “No, he didn’t. He spoke highly of Marlise, quite a different perspective than the one given by Mrs. Simsbury.”
    “And it’s not what he told the police when they questioned him the night of the murder.” He paused before saying, “I’m not saying this because she’s my client, but I don’t believe him.”
    “Based on?”
    He shrugged. “Just an instinct. You question enough witnesses and you develop a sense of who’s telling the truth and who’s lying.”
    “Pretty serious lie,” I offered. “I assume that his statement will be enough for them to charge her with the murder.”
    “Not necessarily. He’ll have to recant his initial statement to the police. I can make a case that his testimony is tainted. He’s already lied to the authorities once, and there’s the strained relationship between them. His allegation is the only evidence against her. And frankly I wouldn’t put it past him to have done the deed himself.”
    “What about the weapon?” I asked.
    “It wasn’t found at the scene. And Jonathon’s pistol is missing. There’s no way to know if his own