Free Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery by Edie Claire Page A

like Carmen."
    "I take it you didn't make it?" Warren asked.
    Leigh shook her head. "I was pulled over two blocks from the high school for doing 45 in a 25 zone. Here I was, my first chance to drive my Dad's good car, and I was getting a speeding ticket. At that moment I didn't think things could get any worse. I was naïve. When the officer asked for my car registration, I reached over and opened the glove compartment."
    There was silence for a moment.
    "She didn't," Warren said incredulously.
    "She did!" Leigh fumed, getting mad just thinking about it. "It all toppled right out onto her lap—in nice, perfectly clear plastic bags, in full view of the officer."
    Maura chimed in. "That was a bad break, you know. The officer would have had no right to search. But when you wave it right under his nose…"
    "I know, I know," Leigh said irritably, thirteen years evaporating in her mind. "The lawyer did a great job of explaining to my parents exactly what fantastic odds I overcame in order to get myself arrested."
    "You were actually arrested?" Warren asked.
    Leigh nodded glumly. "The works. I'd never been so humiliated. We were charged with possession of marijuana. I called my Dad; he called a lawyer. Some old guy with a beard who smelled like cigars. I was mortified. But the lawyer had no trouble getting me off—he convinced the judge I had nothing to do with the drugs, since I was a stellar student and my prints weren't on the bags. So, I was off the hook and my record was wiped clean." Nevertheless, she thought to herself ruefully, her dad had gotten a hefty legal bill to remember the incident by.
    "And Carmen?" Warren prompted.
    "It was her first real offense, so she got community service. Weeding, mowing, washing police cars. She got a kick out of the last part. 'Fraternizing with the fuzz,' she called it. Bragged that she was dating a parole officer."
    "You were still on speaking terms?" Warren asked with surprise. "Was she sorry she got you into trouble?"
    Leigh laughed. "That's just it. Carmen was never sorry about anything."
    She turned to Maura. "You remember that Abnormal Psych class we took together junior year?"

"How could I forget?" the policewoman grinned. "You diagnosed everyone you'd ever known."
    "I did not," Leigh said defensively. "Just a few—and only one I was really sure about. We were studying personality disorders, and I told you that I knew a girl in high school who was a sociopath."
    Maura thought for a moment. "You mean Carmen was the girl who would steal clothes from gym lockers, then wear them around school?"
    "Yep—that was her. People would recognize their stolen clothes, but Carmen would act like nothing was wrong. All the time, she'd be perfectly nice to you. Once she volunteered to be treasurer of some club—future homewreckers of America or something—and a few days after dues were collected the money 'disappeared' from her locker. She had the nerve to report the theft to the police, even as she was wearing a whole new outfit she couldn't possibly afford. It was like she had no conscience at all. She assumed everyone liked her—she saw no reason why they shouldn't. She was charming and friendly, but the moment your back was turned, she'd do just about anything."
    "Sounds like a couple of women I've dated," Warren mused.
    Leigh glared. Warren hadn't been much of a ladies' man in his college days, but in the last few years he had dated no small number of politically eligible women. He never got serious about any of them, however, a fact which evidently had not escaped the notice of Myran Wiggin.
    "Were you ever openly hostile to Carmen?" Maura asked seriously, trying to keep Leigh's thoughts on the subject.
    "Of course not," Leigh said defensively. "I wanted to wring her stringy little neck, but I was a wuss. She acted like nothing had happened, so I played along. It was easier that way."
    "And there were no real lasting consequences for you?" Maura probed.
    "Besides my dignity? The horror