Free Wicked Craving by G. A. McKevett Page A

bit.
    â€œGood,” he said. “Now I can hear myself think.” He turned to Roxanne, who was giving him a suspicious and increasingly hostile look. “I have to ask you a few questions about the death of Maria Wellman.”
    Savannah watched her carefully, and she was pretty sure the woman turned a couple of shades whiter underneath her generously applied bronzer.
    Roxanne struggled for her next statement, her mental gymnastics showing on her face.
    Having interviewed countless individuals over the years—both guilty and innocent—Savannah could almost tell what the woman was thinking.
    Should I admit that I know Maria is dead, or pretend to be shocked?
    But, apparently, Roxie couldn’t decide, because she just sat there with a blank look on her face and said nothing.
    Savannah wasn’t inclined to let her get away with it.
    â€œYou do know that your boss’s wife is dead, right?” she asked her.
    â€œUh…” Her eyes cut back and forth between Savannah and Dirk. “…Yeah. I guess so.”
    â€œI didn’t ask you if it’s going to rain two months from today,” Savannah said, her tone only a little softer than her words. “This is something you’d be pretty darned sure about. People remember it when they hear that somebody they know just fell off a cliff and died.”
    â€œYeah, okay. I know it.” Roxanne ran her fingers through her carefully mussed locks. “But I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
    â€œNobody said you did,” Dirk told her. “But now that you’re getting all hinky on us here, I’m starting to wonder.”
    â€œWho told you she was dead?” Savannah asked.
    â€œUm-m-m…well…”
    â€œThat’s another one of those answers that shouldn’t require a lot of thought.” Savannah leaned across the table and gave the blonde her most intimidating interrogation stare—the one she usually used for drive-by-shooting, pit bull–fighting, hardcore gang-bangers. “Listen to me,” she said. “A woman is dead, probably murdered. And you could get yourself in a helluva lot of trouble in a heartbeat if you hold anything back.”
    â€œYeah,” Dirk added. “I could take you in right now for obstruction of justice if you don’t start talking.”
    This time, when Roxanne ran her fingers through her hair, her fingers were trembling. “Uh…can I have a lawyer?”
    â€œDo you need a lawyer?” Savannah asked. “Sergeant Coulter’s just asking you some simple questions here. You want legal representation for that?”
    Roxie shrugged. “No, I don’t guess so.” She paused, then said, “Dr. Wellman told me.”
    â€œWhen?” Dirk wanted to know.
    â€œToday. I stopped by there…on an errand. But he was all upset, and he told me she was dead.”
    â€œWhat were his exact words when he said it?” Savannah asked.
    â€œI think he said, ‘Maria’s dead. A jogger found her down on the beach. I can’t mess with you right now.’”
    â€œMess with you?” Savannah said. “What did he mean by that? What were you there for?”
    Again, Roxanne hesitated, considering her answer carefully. Finally, she said, “I was there to pick up something.”
    â€œWhat?” Dirk asked.
    â€œSome money that they owe me.”
    â€œFor what?” Savannah said.
    â€œMy paycheck. They owe me one.”
    Savannah thought about the conversation they had overheard earlier at the house. It made sense, but still, it seemed like a big hullabaloo to be making over one late paycheck.
    â€œWere they in the habit of withholding your wages?” she asked.
    â€œNo. But I need it to pay my rent and stuff.”
    â€œAny particular reason why they were late with this one?”
    Again, the suspicious pause. “Um…not really.”
    â€œOkay.” Savannah turned to