In Death 09 - Loyalty in Death

Mantz. "I'll fight this with everything I have."
    "I understand your distress." Mantz rose as well. "However, your brother's wishes were clearly and legally outlined. Ms. Cooke has not been charged with murder but with second-degree manslaughter. There are legal precedents that protect her inheritance."
    Branson bared his teeth. Even as he lunged. Eve sprang up to block him. Before she could, Roarke was doing so.
    "B. D." Roarke spoke calmly, but he had Branson's arms pinned firmly to his sides. "This won't help you. Let your lawyer handle it. Your wife's very distraught," he continued as Clarissa curled into a ball and wept wildly. "She should lie down. Why don't you take her upstairs, give her a soother."
    The bones in Branson's face stood out in sharp relief, so keen it seemed they might cut right through the flesh. "Get out of my house," he ordered Mantz. "Get the hell out of my house."
    "I'll see him out," Roarke said. "Take care of your wife."
    For one long moment, Branson strained against Roarke's hold; then he nodded, turned. He gathered his wife up, cradling her as he would a child, and carried her from the room.
    "You're done here, Mantz." Eve faced him. "Unless you want to see if the Bransons have a dog you could kick."
    He acknowledged this, picked up his own briefcase. "We all do our jobs, Lieutenant."
    "Right, and yours is to run to a murderer and tell her she just got rich."
    His eyes never wavered. "Life is very rarely black and white." He nodded to Suzanna. "Good evening, Counselor," he murmured and left.
    "He's right." Suzanna sighed and sat again. "He's only doing his job."
    "Will she inherit?" Eve demanded.
    Suzanna pinched the bridge of her nose. "As things stand, yes. With charges of second-degree manslaughter, it can be argued she killed J. C. in a moment of jealous passion. His will was a sealed document. We can't prove she had prior knowledge of its contents or that those contents in any way influenced her. Under current law, she can gain by his death."
    "If the charges are bumped up?"
    Suzanna dropped her hand into her lap, regarding Eve thoughtfully. "Then things change. Is there a chance of that? I was under the impression the case was closed."
    "Closed doesn't mean locked."
    "I hope you'll keep me updated," Suzanna said as she rose and walked out with them to where the maid waited with their coats.
    "I'll let you know what I can when I can." When they stepped outside, Eve slid her hands into her pockets. The limo was waiting. She struggled not to be embarrassed by it.
    "Can we give you a lift home, Ms. Day?" Roarke asked.
    "No, thanks. I could use a walk." She paused a moment and her sigh puffed out a thin stream of white. "As an estate lawyer, I deal with this sort of thing all the time. Grief and greed. But it's rare it hits this close to home. I really liked J. C. Some people you think will live forever." Shaking her head, she walked away.
    "Well, that was fun." Eve started toward the car. "Wonder if Lissy my love will shed half as many tears over this guy as Clarissa. You know her very well?"
    "Hmm, no." Roarke slid into the car beside her. "In that false intimacy of social acquaintances, I run into the Branson brothers at events occasionally. Clarissa and Lisbeth were usually with them."
    "I'd've reversed it."
    Roarke sat back, lighted a cigarette. "Meaning?"
    "I'd put Clarissa with J. C. Just going by what I've learned about him, he was lighter, less driven, more emotional than his brother. Clarissa comes off fragile, nearly tender -- seems a little... intimidated by Branson. She doesn't seem like your slick corporate wife. The man's running a big, international company. Why doesn't he have a slick corporate wife?" Even as she posed the question, Roarke was grinning, making her narrow her eyes. "What?"
    "I was going to say that he might have fallen for a different type. It happens, even to the heads of big, international companies."
    Now her narrowed eyes glinted. "Are you saying I'm not a slick, corporate wife?"
    He drew contemplatively on his cigarette. "If I said you were, you'd try to hurt me, then we'd end up wrestling back here. One thing would lead to another and we'd be very late for a business dinner."
    "I'd be real sorry about that," she muttered. "You're not exactly the typical cop's spouse either, pal."
    "If you said I was, we'd end up wrestling back here, and so on." He stubbed out his cigarette, then trailed a fingertip down the center of her body from throat to waist.