Free A Guilty Mind by K.L. Murphy

a run at getting another subpoena later. What did you find out about the wife?”
    Smitty sat down at his desk. “Some, but not a lot. No kids and no close family. Only marriage for both. She’s a lawyer with Harkin & Fenner, works in tax litigation, high-­priced clients. Nobody in her office had much to say about her. Professional, always polite, good at her job, that kinda stuff.”
    â€œHow long has she been there?”
    â€œFive years. One odd thing though. I didn’t get to talk to everyone but it doesn’t seem she socialized with her coworkers. She didn’t do the office Christmas party or the summer cookout. Ate lunch alone in her office. Apparently, the lady is business-­friendly, but, and I quote, ‘snotty.’ ”
    â€œSnotty?”
    â€œYeah, as in stuck-­up.”
    â€œAnyone ever met Dr. Michael?”
    â€œNope.”
    Cancini leaned back, eyes on his partner’s face. He thought briefly of the woman who’d sat before him only hours earlier. The description didn’t seem all that far off. Smart and classy but no kids and no close friends. Other than her husband, the woman liked to be alone. This last part, at least, he understood. “Okay. Where was she before Harkin & Fenner?”
    â€œBoston. That’s where they’re from. She stayed even after her husband had set up practice here. According to the personnel lady at the firm, she moved to Washington because Dr. Michael was complaining about the weekend commuting.”
    The pain at the base of his neck radiated up the back of his head. “How long had the Michaels been married?”
    â€œAbout fifteen years.”
    â€œAnd they never had kids? No other family?”
    â€œJust the dead brother for her. Dr. Michael’s folks died when he was in his twenties. No siblings.”
    â€œOdd,” he said. It appeared both their family trees were dying out. Was no children a conscious choice? He ran his hand over his short hair. If it was, he wondered if it was significant. “Interesting.”
    â€œWhat’s interesting?” Smitty asked.
    Cancini reached in his drawer for a bottle of aspirin. “I’m wondering why Mrs. Michael had to be convinced to move to the same town to be with her husband. I want to know why Mrs. Watson made it out as though Mr. and Mrs. Michael were lovebirds, him always so anxious to get home to her.” He swallowed two pills with cold coffee. “There’s something about this relationship I find curious. I need to know more.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can find out. I have a friend in Boston.”
    â€œAnything he can get. Work history, friends, neighbors.” He tapped on the desk. “Could be a reason, a local reason, she wasn’t in any hurry to move closer to dear old hubby.”
    Smitty arched one eyebrow. “You think she had a little something on the side?”
    â€œI have no idea.” Cancini shrugged. “She’s attractive, smart, has money. No kids to weigh her down. Could’ve been one of those modern marriages.” In his mind, he pictured her again. “You never know.”
    â€œI guess. She’s still a looker, that’s for sure.”
    â€œStill? Are you implying she’s old?”
    Smitty’s face flushed. “No. That’s not what I meant, but she’s older than me. That’s all.”
    â€œSo’s most of the population.” Standing, the detective picked up his notebook and slipped it in his jacket pocket. “I’m going to track down some of these names and check out some alibis.”
    â€œSure. I’ll call my buddy in Boston now. Might take another run at Mrs. Watson, too,” Smitty said. He started to pick up the phone, then turned back to Cancini. “By the way, did you get the report from the print guys?”
    Cancini picked through the files on his desk and tossed a manila folder to his partner. “The knife