Free A Denial of Death by Gin Jones Page B

what kind of bribe he couldn't resist.
    "Take me home by way of the specialty lumber yard, please," Helen told Jack. "I have to pick up something for Tate."

CHAPTER SIX
     
    Tate's car was parked outside the garage when Helen finally returned to the cottage. As she opened the door of the ridiculous sports car, she could hear the sound of his lathe.
    Once Jack had dragged her up and out of the car, she asked him to wait a few minutes after he unloaded the trunk. "I need to ask Tate something, and, depending on what he says, I may need a ride tomorrow, if you're available then."
    "No problem." Jack went around to the trunk to get the stack of exotic wood Tate had been admiring for a while without quite bringing himself to pay the exorbitant price.
    Helen didn't see what was so special about it. When she'd asked the sales rep why it was so expensive, he'd described the twelve-inch-long blocks as exquisite examples of burled wood, which still didn't explain anything as far as she was concerned.
    Helen held the garage's side door open for Jack. Tate's pleased expression when he turned off the lathe, pulled off his safety glasses, and caught sight of the incoming wood was enough to confirm that the sales rep had been right. It wasn't often that Tate, with his extensive experience as a trial lawyer and tough negotiator, let his real feelings appear on his face. Today, though, he looked genuinely pleased by her offering of the burled wood.
    The pleased expression didn't last long before it turned into suspicion. That was the one emotion Tate never hesitated to exhibit. "That stuff's expensive. What kind of trouble have you gotten into now?"
    "I haven't done anything," Helen said. "Yet."
    He stared at the chunks of wood for a long moment, as if deciding just how much he wanted them before accepting them from Jack.
    Jack left, and Helen made sure she was inside the garage before Tate could put down the wood and return to lock her out. She pulled one of the three ratty director's chairs over next to his workbench and climbed into it, relieving the stress on her irritated hip. The chair was old and sawdust-covered and higher than she'd prefer, but it made a nice change from scraping the ground in the sports car.
    Tate stacked the new wood blocks on an empty shelf at eye level, directly across from the lathe, where he would be able to see them while he worked. Once he was done he turned to face Helen, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the shelving, as if bracing himself for their conversation. "Okay, tell me what I need to know."
    "I know the routine," Helen said, trying to get comfortable on the high canvas seat, with her legs dangling over the edge. "I'm supposed to tell you the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth if it's self-incriminating."
    "You still haven't killed anyone, right? And you haven't told anyone you might have killed someone?"
    "Definitely not," Helen said.
    "That's a start." He glanced over his shoulder at his new wood supply one more time before he nodded. "Go ahead."
    "I spoke to Angie Decker's husband, and he thinks she's just punishing him for some domestic misdeed by running away for a bit, which she's done before, so he hasn't reported her missing yet. Her sister thinks pretty much the same thing and says Angie's at a casino in Connecticut. Except, it turns out Angie is vehemently opposed to gambling, so Betty and Josie don't believe she'd stay at a casino for more than the time it took to have dinner and see a show. Which is a lot less than three weeks."
    "You believe the woman's acquaintances over her immediate family?"
    "Not really." She wasn't sure what to believe. Ralph and Charlene had both seemed like honest people who cared about Angie, so they had no reason to lie about her whereabouts. Of course, as a veteran of politics Helen knew people were much better at lying than anyone would like to believe. "It's just that Betty and Josie are worried, and that can't be good for their