The Eyes Of Derek Archer

“Thank you, sir,” she said gratefully. With his round face and button nose, the colonel was one of the homeliest men she’d ever seen, but his down-home manner reassured her.

During the next half hour—interrupted occasionally by Major Savage—she briefed the attorney about her husband’s case. When he was satisfied, they resumed their drive across the river.

Arriving in front of the City County Public Safety Building, Susan and the lawyer climbed out of the back seat. Neither Major Savage nor Colonel Tinnerman moved.

Dismayed, Susan peered in the back window at Major Savage. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

The major shook his head. “When the police interview you, they won’t allow anyone but your attorney in the room. The car will take the colonel and me to the base. It’ll be back for you in about an hour.”

With a lump in her throat, Susan turned away. Major Savage wasn’t the friendliest commander she’d worked for, but she’d counted on his support. Instead, she had a fuzzy-faced lieutenant just out of law school.

“I don’t think they’re going to charge you,” Lieutenant Davidson said, holding the door to the building open for her. “But Major Savage thought it would be a good idea for me to come along, regardless. If they do arrest you at some future time, you’d be better off with a civilian attorney since your husband’s murder occurred in a civilian jurisdiction.”

The young lieutenant sounded more capable than his youthful appearance indicated. But that didn’t keep Susan’s legs from shaking as she walked to Detective MacElroy’s office.

MacElroy stood and extended his hand when Susan and Lieutenant Davidson entered. She recognized him immediately. A big, barrel-chested man with a florid complexion and bushy mustache, MacElroy was in charge of the on-going investigation into Brian’s death. Since the murder had occurred off base, the local civilian authorities had jurisdiction.

After introducing Davidson, Susan shook Mac-Elroy’s hand and lowered herself onto one of the two chairs in front of his inspection-clean desk.

“Thanks for coming, Lieutenant Wade, Lieutenant Davidson,” MacElroy said. After settling himself, he placed a tape recorder on his desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to tape our interview.”

Susan caught Davidson’s nod. “That’s customary,” he said.

Swallowing hard, she gave a shaky “Yes.”

MacElroy started the recorder. When he focused on Susan, his eyes narrowed. “Since you’re not under arrest, you’re free to leave at any time. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” She forced the word out through clenched teeth.

“You have the right to remain silent, you have the right…”

As MacElroy droned on, Susan froze in her chair. He’s reading me my rights, just like I’m a criminal. When the detective was finished, she turned to Davidson. “If I’m not under arrest, why is he reading me my rights?” Her voice quavered so much she was shocked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Davidson said. “It’s just added protection for you.” He focused on MacElroy. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

The detective folded thick arms against the diamond-patterned sweater he was wearing. He looked first at Susan and then at Lieutenant Davidson. “We’ve found the murder weapon. It was buried in the atrium at Cavanaugh’s Inn at the Park.” Cavanaugh’s was a four-star hotel in Riverfront Park, across the Spokane River from Archer’s hotel.

Susan listened with bewilderment. “That’s very interesting, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Were you in Cavanaugh’s lobby the afternoon your husband was murdered?”

Her insides turned to jelly. “No, of course not. You know where I was that afternoon. In my car on Argonne Road, trying to help an airman’s wife.” She stared at him accusingly. “I never went near Cavanaugh’s.”

“You already know all this,” Lieutenant Davidson interrupted. “Lieutenant Wade told me she gave you this information in a signed statement.”

MacElroy kept his eyes pinned on Susan. “Witnesses at Cavanaugh’s claim to have seen a woman who matches your description in the lobby shortly after your husband was murdered.”

Susan could hardly believe her ears. The stuffy little room tilted, and she heard a muffled roaring in her ears. When she opened her mouth to speak, nothing happened.

The witnesses are wrong, she wanted to scream. I’ve never been there.

Beside her, Lieutenant Davidson spoke. “Captain Wade was killed more than two months ago. How can these people remember a specific day?”

“It was a holiday—Martin Luther King’s birthday. Remember?” A smug smile crossed the detective’s face.

“That’s right,” Davidson returned. “Two months ago. Why have these employees taken so long to come forward?”

“Because a gardener just found the gun today.” MacElroy’s expression sobered. “When we asked for a description of people in the lobby that afternoon, several remembered a woman with long blond hair and brown eyes, about Mrs. Wade’s height.”

“That’s impossible,” Susan blurted.

“The witnesses especially remembered your long blond hair and the short white dress you were wearing.” MacElroy shot her a contemptuous sneer, as though positive he’d find the dress if he searched her closet.

“Not my hair,” she corrected him. “And I don’t have a short white dress.” She flashed him a look of disdain. “I never wear white.”

His lips twisted into a cynical smile. “If you say so, Lieutenant Wade.” A probing query came into his eyes. “Since you’re so positive, I’m sure you won’t mind letting us take your picture and fingerprints.”

Lieutenant Davidson jumped to his feet. “You can’t tell me you’d arrest Lieutenant Wade on the strength of a photo ID! Any fool knows how unreliable pictures are.”

Unperturbed, MacElroy leaned back in his chair. “Settle down, Lieutenant. A photomontage is just another step in the process.”

Davidson leaned over MacElroy’s desk. “What’s this about fingerprints?”

“If you’ll sit down, I’ll explain.”

Reluctantly, Davidson returned to his chair.

MacElroy’s eyes bored into Susan. “We need your prints to compare with some partials we found on the weapon.” He lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Incidentally, the weapon was a 357 Magnum revolver registered to your husband. Ever remember seeing it around your house, Lieutenant?”

Clenching her hands so tightly they hurt, Susan forced herself to look directly into MacElroy’s accusing eyes. “No, Brian kept his gun at the squadron. It was stolen last November, around Thanksgiving.”

“Was the theft reported?”

“I honestly don’t know. Brian didn’t say.”

MacElroy’s eyes narrowed, and she could tell he thought she was lying through her teeth.

She hadn’t believed Derek Archer, she remembered, increasingly anxious. She’d thought he was a con man, trying to work a swindle on her, and now she was in the same position. The image of his expressive face appeared in her mind. What she wouldn’t give to be back with him in the Riverfront Hotel right now, worrying about something as unimportant as an insurance policy.

Chapter Three

When the staff vehicle finally reached the Riverfront Hotel where Susan’s car was parked, she clambered out so quickly her purse slid to the ground. Bending to pick it up, she saw Derek Archer stride through the lobby doors.

After what she’d been through, she didn’t want to talk to him, and turned away, hoping he wouldn’t follow her to her car. She didn’t want him to see her like this, flustered and scared, afraid the police might actually indict her for Brian’s murder.

He didn’t take the hint, easily catching up with her as she hurried away from him. “I hope you don’t have to go back to work, so we can finish our business.”

She looked up at his face. Taller and broader than she remembered, he let his cold blue eyes, now strangely seductive, drift from her face down to her uniform-clad breasts and back to her face again, in a sweeping, deliberate movement.