Free Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller by R. Barri Flowers

the car—like the exact color, any marks, etc. Also, if she
can remember any part of the license plate number, we might really
be onto something.”
    Nina took notes. Shifting her gaze to his
face, she asked: “What about the girlfriend? She any help?”
    “Not really. Just another starry-eyed kid
full of dreams and fantasies who hooked up with the wrong man.”
    “Some of us can relate to that,” Nina uttered
thoughtfully.
    When Ray met her eyes, he wondered if she was
referring to her ex-husband. Or was she was referring to their
brief affair that had gone nowhere?
    Admittedly, they were wrong for each other,
even if it seemed right at the time. But then he’d had little luck
in the relationship department. Except maybe bad luck. His ex had
turned out to be very wrong for him. The only thing they had
in common was that they had nothing in common. Combine that with
her lack of focus on anything but herself and how much she could
bleed him dry and they had the perfect recipe for a marriage doomed
to failure.
    Sort of like Blake Wallace’s marriage, Ray
contemplated sadly. Only someone decided to help put his wife out
of her misery permanently, while sending Wallace straight to
hell.
    * * *
    When Victoria Wallace was informed of her
husband’s death, she appeared expressionless. Her face showed old
and fresh signs of the abuse inflicted by her husband, particularly
around the eyes, with one nearly swollen shut. Although in her
early forties, she looked much older. Her graying flaxen hair was
thin and listless, her body so frail it looked as if it might snap
like a twig beneath the rose print jacket dress she wore.
    At first Nina wondered if the Mrs. even
grasped what she’d just been told. The woman had obviously been
drinking. She observed her unsteadiness on gimpy legs.
    “It was only a matter of time,” Victoria
mumbled.
    “Meaning?” Ray asked, as they stood on thick
moss green carpeting in the study of what was an expensive
tri-level home in the upscale neighborhood of Winston Heights.
    She fixed her hazel eyes on the detective.
“My husband had enemies,” she said without preface. “He didn’t get
where he got without them.”
    “Does that include you?” Ray narrowed his
focus.
    Victoria sighed. “I loved Blake. But I hated
his temper and willingness to turn it on me whenever he saw
fit.”
    “Did you hate your husband enough to kill
him?” Nina asked pointblank. “Or hire someone to do the job for
you?”
    Victoria’s head jerked back, as if she’d been
slapped. “How dare you!”
    Nina was undeterred. “With all due respect,
Mrs. Wallace, your husband was beaten to death with a bat less than
an hour after being acquitted of charges he beat the hell out of
you.” She met her hardened gaze head on. “No suspects can be ruled
out at this stage—not even you.”
    Victoria seemed to gather her composure. “The
last time I saw Blake, he was leaving this house to go to his
mistress,” she said levelly, looking from one detective to the
other. “Yes, I knew all about his affair. It wasn’t the first one.
And wouldn’t have been the last. I stayed with my husband for the
sake of the children. If I had wanted to kill him, I would have
done so years ago when I still had the strength, and maybe the
desire, to take away his life, the way he did mine—”
    Nina made eye contact with Ray before saying
to the newly widowed woman: “Can you tell us if you’ve ever been to
the Rose City Women’s Shelter?”
    Victoria’s face flushed, as if ashamed to
admit such. “Why do you ask?”
    “Because we believe that whoever killed your
husband may be affiliated with the shelter in some way.”
    After a moment or two, Victoria said shakily:
“Yes, I stayed there one night about six months ago when I needed
somewhere to hide from Blake’s fists. Just until things cooled
off—”
    The detectives again exchanged glances.
    “We’ll need a list of some of these enemies
you said your husband had,” Ray