Riptide (Sam McRae Mystery 3)

She said nothing, but pure hatred radiated from every pore.

“What do you want?” she said, finally.

“You have to turn yourself in.”

“Fat chance.”

“Really? We’ll see.”

“You gonna make me?”

“I think I can.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Our voices must have carried, because who should appear at Marsha’s side, but Mr. Horny Cokehead himself.

“Girls, girls … please,” he said, grinning and stumbling. “No fighting. Okay?”

He leaned on Marsha’s shoulder and raised his glance toward me. The grin vanished.

Marsha turned toward Junior and glared at him. “Junior, go back to your room. Now!”

Junior turned around and slumped off.

“That’s right, Junior. Do what mother says,” I goaded. “You know, you might want to keep your brother on a leash. The last time I saw him, he tried to hump my leg.”

“Fuck you!” Marsha turned her wrath upon me. “Who are you to judge? How would you feel if your own father gave your birthright to someone else’s kid?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

“No shit you don’t.” Marsha looked at me with disdain. “Our mother dies and he goes and marries some piece of trailer trash. Then her kid gets to own the family business? Well, the hell with that. I wasn’t going to let that happen. That business should go to Junior. Billy Ray was an interloper, plain and simple.”

“Interloper. That’s quite a word. So many syllables. Almost as many as in premeditated. As in first-degree murder. I’m so disappointed, Marsha. Everyone says such nice things about you.”

“Well, I care about my brother. I’m the only one really looking after his interests.”

“You care so much, you took your trust fund money and left him high and dry.”

“Don’t preach to me, honey. I had to live in that house, not you. Once our mother died and our father hooked up with that whore, I simply couldn’t stand it.”

“Must have been pretty horrible to drive you to leave the country and assume a new name.”

“You can’t prove any of that.”

“Oh, but Conroy knows all about it. I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to share what he knows to keep his ass out of prison. Not to mention having his private eye license yanked and his reputation turned to shit.”

Marsha closed her eyes and lifted a hand to her brow, rubbing it. A tear formed in the corner of one eye.

“I only wanted to help Junio

r. I swear.”

“It’s over, Marsha. One way or the other, the truth will come out. Now, you can either admit what you did or sully Conroy’s reputation by forcing him into a plea bargain in which he turns state’s witness against you. Do you want that on your conscience, too?”

Marsha paused, as if considering taking a dive off a cliff. The moment stretched to eternity. Her answer would make or break my deal with Conroy.

I wasn’t looking to bring Conroy down. Who was I to judge the man? But Marsha had to confess her mortal sins if I hoped to make an airtight case for Jamila’s innocence.