Brazen Virtue

either. Do you have any coffee?”
    “Yes, yes, of course.”
    Eileen rose and went into the broom closet–size storeroom behind the desk. She was feeling far from well and wished now she’d taken her husband up on that quick vacation in Bermuda. “I’m sure you know we’re cooperating with the police in any way we can. Everyone wants this man stopped.”
    “Yes, but you see, I also want him to pay. No cream,” she added and waited for Eileen to bring out an oversize stoneware mug. “You understand that I feel a bit closer to all of this than you, or the police. I need the answers to some questions.”

    “I don’t know what I can tell you.” Eileen went behind her desk again. The minute she landed she reached for the cigarette. “I’ve told the police absolutely everything I could. I didn’t know your sister well, you see. I only met her when she came in that first time to interview. Everything else was done by phone.”
    No, Eileen hadn’t known Kathleen well, Grace thought. Perhaps no one had. “The phone,” Grace repeated as she sat back. “I guess we could say the phone’s the core of it all. I know how your business works. Kathleen explained it to me, so there’s no need to get into all of that. Tell me, do any of the men who call ever come by here?”
    “No.” Eileen rubbed at a headache just above her eyes. She hadn’t been able to get rid of it completely since she’d read about Mary Grice in the papers. “We don’t give out our address to clients. Of course, it would be possible for someone to find us if they were determined, but there isn’t any reason for it. Even potential employees are screened before they’re given the address for the personal interview. We’re very careful, Miss McCabe. I want you to understand that.”
    “Did anyone ever call asking questions about Kathy—about Desiree?”
    “No. And if they had, they wouldn’t have gotten any answers. Excuse me,” she said quickly as the phone rang.
    Grace sipped her coffee and listened with half an ear. Why had she come? She’d known that there would be very little, if anything, she could learn that the police hadn’t. A few missing details, a few pieces; she was groping. Yet this was it. This tiny, unassuming office was the key. All she had to figure out was how to turn it.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Peterson, Jezebel isn’t on call today. Would you like to talk with someone else?” As she spoke, Eileen punched a few buttons on her keyboard, then read off the monitor. “If you had something specific in mind … I see. I think you’d enjoy speaking with Magda. Yes, she is. I’m sure she’ll be glad to help you. I’ll arrange it.”

    When she hung up, Eileen shot Grace a nervous glance. “I’m sorry, this is going to take a few minutes. I wish I could help but—”
    “It’s all right. I’ll wait until you’re finished.” Grace lifted her cup again. She had a new idea, and one she intended to move on right away. She smiled at Eileen when the business was completed. “Tell me, just how do you go about getting a job here?”
    E D WASN’T IN THE best of moods when he pulled into his drive. He’d spent the better part of the day kicking his heels in court, waiting to testify in the appeal of a case he’d worked on two years earlier. Ed had never had any doubt about the guilt of the defendant. The evidence had been there, the motive and the opportunity. He and Ben had tied it up in a bow and handed it to the DA.
    Though the press had made the most of it at the time, it had been a fairly simple investigation. The man had killed his wife, his older and wealthy wife, then had scrambled to make it look like robbery. The first jury had deliberated less than six hours and had come back with a guilty verdict. The law said the defendant was entitled to an appeal, and that justice could drag its heels. Now, two years later, the man who had willfully taken the life of the woman he’d promised to love, honor, and cherish was being portrayed as a victim of circumstance.
    Ed knew the man had a good chance of getting off. It was on days like this he wondered why he bothered to pick up his shield every morning. He could take the mountains of paperwork with little complaint. He could put his life in jeopardy to protect society. He could spend hours in stakeouts in the dead of winter or the height of summer. That was all part of the job. But it was becoming harder every year to accept the twists he confronted in the