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

of being arrested when you're such a straight arrow you're voted 'Most Likely to Lead a Boring Life?'" Leigh smirked, wondering if her old high school yearbook staff had been watching the news lately. Her life wasn't so boring now, was it?
    "Koslow," Maura said heavily. "Pay attention. This is your butt in the sling, remember? I asked if there were any real, lasting negative consequences from that arrest."
    Leigh sighed. "I suppose not. Although I did miss a calculus test that morning—which cost me a letter grade." She ground her teeth at the memory, then remembered the purpose of Maura's questions. "It was nothing worth killing anyone over, of course. That would be ridiculous."
    Maura considered a moment, then agreed. "High-school trauma is pretty lame, for a motive. But it would have been better if you'd told the police about it yourself."
    "But they won't find out," Leigh countered hopefully. "The lawyer said my record would be wiped clean, remember?"
    Maura shook her head. "Yours might have been, but Carmen's wouldn't. Not if she was over eighteen."
    Crap . Leigh bit her lower lip. "So Frank will find out?"
    Maura sighed. "He probably already knows, Koslow. Did he ask you any leading questions? Give you the opportunity to mention it?"
    As a matter of fact, yes . Leigh's stomach was back to its old tricks. She needed to pop some antacid—quick. "I suppose he might have," she mumbled.
    "Ask your lawyer if you should get it out in the open," Maura suggested. "They'll have trouble getting a warrant if all the motive they have is a petty thirteen-year-old grudge. They'd need something else. Like blackmail. Or a love triangle."
    A love triangle . There it was—again. Leigh tried hard not to look at Maura. The policewoman was trained to read people, and she knew guilt when she saw it. Leigh asked Warren where he kept the antacid and made a hasty exit to the bathroom.
     
    ***
     
    The buzzing of Leigh's alarm clock the next morning announced the end of eleven hours of sleep that seemed more like twenty minutes. She stumbled through the morning routine on autopilot, scalding her wrist with coffee and stubbing her toe on a basket of dirty clothes. To top it off, her cat, Mao Tse, was having serious attitude problems—undoubtedly miffed at the irregular hours Leigh had been keeping and the fact that there had been no canned food since Tuesday.
    "Herring in prawn jelly this weekend," Leigh yawned as she left. "Promise." Unlike the day before, Hook, Inc. was buzzing with activity. The new business manager had somehow wrangled a desk and chair, and was setting about the professional task of lifting the phone off the floor. Jeff Hulsey was once again schmoozing potential clients over the phone, and Carl and Alice were arguing over whether her flashy layout would make the Techmar Industrial brochure go over budget. Leigh gave each of her coworkers a wave and, as Alice and Carl had the decency to be arguing in the other office, she shut her own door and sat down to work.
    The print ads for X-M Mold Remover should have been a snap job. On a better day she could have rolled out a half dozen great slogans—with copy—by noon. Not this morning. Her mind was enveloped in a haze that three cups of coffee had yet to touch, and the pressure in her sinuses was building up like a powder keg. She was staring at the blank document on her monitor, debating whether Frank had given her a cold in addition to an ulcer, when the door to her office opened slowly. Two women of equal height and build shuffled quietly inside and stood looking at her.
    The one wearing two strands of pearls and carrying an embroidered handbag cleared her throat. Leigh looked up at the women and smiled weakly. Like many identical twins, the two were a study in contrast. One in full Barbara-Bush regalia, the other in shiny pink sweats. "Leigh, dear," said the proper one, "We're sorry to interrupt, but you never answer your phone anymore, and we're worried about you."
    "I'm