Free A Truth for a Truth by Emilie Richards Page A

worry. The, um, autopsy will probably show he died of natural causes. He had a heart condition. His doctor even certified the death without an examination. Another heart attack wasn’t unexpected.”
    “I don’t know if it was a heart attack. His heartbeat was irregular, and in Westbury, where we were living, they’d had problems getting his medications adjusted. Win had always trusted our family doctor here, Dr. Jake Gordon, do you know him?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Jake was part of the reason we moved back. At least that’s what Win said . . .”
    That last part was so loaded, I was afraid to touch it now, while Hildy was obviously upset. “So what happened with Dr. Gordon?”
    “We thought he’d worked wonders in the month we’d been here. Win wasn’t a well man, I’ll grant you. But he trusted Jake, and for once he listened and did what he was told. I thought . . . I thought he was going to get better. I was trying to keep our life on an even plane. I was trying to help him avoid stress. Then that night—”
    She stopped abruptly and shook her head.
    I wished I knew what to say and do. I wasn’t about to interrogate Hildy. But I wondered if she wanted me to ask leading questions, if she had things she needed to say to somebody. Hildy viewed me as Ed’s appendage. Could that be why I was the chosen one? Or was it because I had a certain reputation for sticking my nose where it wasn’t wanted?
    “I need a lawyer,” she said, before I could decide.
    “You do?”
    “I do. I’m not going to the station without one. The man on the phone, Detective Rousseau?”
    “Roussos. He’s blunt but fair.” I didn’t add that I counted Kirkor Roussos as a friend, even though we’d never discussed anything as intimate as friendship.
    “I can’t believe anybody would think I might do something as horrible as murder my husband!”
    I crossed the room and grabbed her hand. “You don’t know anybody does, Hildy. Don’t blow this out of proportion.”
    “Do you know a good lawyer?”
    “I know exactly the right man for the job. You sit. Drink some of that coffee you made. Eat my toast so you’ll have something in your stomach. I’ll call him.”
    Hildy was used to giving orders, but she sniffed and nodded. I figured she had to be upset to give in so gracefully. She sat, and I poured coffee and brought her the toast. She cut off the crusts before she ate it. But what’s a crust or two when murder’s on the menu?

    Yvonne’s son Jack was an attorney in his late twenties at one of our town’s better law firms, but Jack McAllister was still young enough to enjoy his job and greet the day with enthusiasm. He’d been lured back to Emerald Springs after law school with the promise he could work in criminal law when cases appeared. Of course, despite the number of bodies I’d personally witnessed, our fair city was not a teeming hotbed of murder and mayhem, which was why Hildy was able to get an immediate appointment. I was afraid Jack was planning to wander elsewhere before long, somewhere darker and grittier. Possibly somewhere closer to my sister Sid, who lived in Atlanta and admitted that she and Jack had a hot e-mail correspondence.
    Hildy, of course, remembered Jack as a gap-toothed towhead who’d played the part of Joseph in our religious education department’s nativity pageant. She had to tell him so, but without her usual enthusiasm.
    I noted Jack’s office had been upgraded. He now had a window of sorts looking over the Oval. He was working his way up the lawyerly chain. I calculated and decided he must be a fourth-year associate, probably still working under the careful eye of a partner but able to proceed a certain distance on his own.
    He gestured to chairs and asked if we wanted coffee.
    I turned to Hildy. “I wasn’t expecting to stay. I’m sure you need some privacy—”
    Her outstretched hand implored me to stay. “Please, don’t go. You might as well hear this straight from