Read Cold Justice: A Judge Willa Carson Mystery (The Hunt for Justice) for Free Online Page B

senior to me at the firm in Detroit where we’d spent our attack-puppy lawyer years. We’d worked on cases together at the bottom of the totem pole before he and his wife, Madeline, decided to move north to Pleasant Harbor to be near both families. He figured he’d get a faster boost up the career ladder here in his home town and he’d been right. He was appointed to the bench long before I was. From time to time we’d chatted at legal events, but otherwise we hadn’t spoken to each other in years.
    And it must have been Madeline Trevor who was at the bridge club this afternoon. The woman who’d given me the strange look. The president who so intimidated the hostess. Probably her sisters at the table with her, too.
    Kemp nodded when he sensed I’d figured things out. Then he continued, “Judge Trevor wants to see you. He asked me to escort you to his chambers.”
    While it was true that I had no jurisdiction here, Randy Trevor couldn’t compel me to show up in his fiefdom, either. This was a request. Nothing more. Whether he phrased it like one or not. “Did he say why?”
    “No ma’am, he didn’t. But I suspect he’s looking for some experienced help here. We don’t have murders like this in Pleasant Harbor. This isn’t Detroit. Or even Tampa.” Kemp sipped his coffee while he waited for me to agree.
    “You’ve got resources at your disposal, surely.”
    “We do.”
    “Why not ask for assistance from one of your colleagues, then?”
    Kemp shrugged.
    Which was okay. I figured I knew the answer to this one. The situation was similar to a man asking for directions. A very powerful man. A man used to making decisions and telling people what to do. In other words, hell would absolutely freeze over before he’d admit to his colleagues that he needed anything, let alone ask for help on a case if he could get some secret talent off the books.
    Which meant I held all the control here. Or at least, control over the next couple of hours.
    The way I saw it, I could refuse, which was totally against my nature and wasn’t really an option. I’m not one to stand on the sidelines much. Randy Trevor would have remembered that about me. Option two: I could go into a meeting completely ignorant of the situation to joust with a man I didn’t really know any more and who did have jurisdiction and probably access to more information than I could get quickly on my own. Better choice: I could wheedle a bit more information from Trooper Kemp before I made up my mind.
    The warm coffee I held in my hands seemed to beckon me. I sat at the kitchen table and gestured Kemp toward the other chair as I sipped, stalling, running through things in my head.
    I hadn’t recovered from the bloody visions behind my closed eyelids during my nap. George had probably walked over to the mansion and he’d be back shortly. He’d be willing to drive in the blizzard, maybe. I loved to drive on the open road with the convertible top down on my car in Tampa. But driving in blizzards and whiteouts? No thanks.
    “You know what’s going on here, don’t you?” I asked. Kemp didn’t confirm, but he didn’t deny, either. He just drank his coffee and waited. “Don’t you think I deserve to be on an equal playing field with everyone else?”
    He took his gloves off and got comfortable in the chair, but he kept the big brimmed hat on. I watched him think about things.
    After a bit, he said, “Leo Richards, the fellow you found this morning? The murder victim?”
    I nodded.
    “The situation is a bit more curious than you know. Because he’s been missing for more than a year. Almost fourteen months, to be precise.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “He’d been having financial trouble on top of some other family problems and you know how that puts stress on a marriage. January was a year ago, he and his wife had a major blowout. Broken furniture, holes punched in the wall, the whole nine yards. Her sisters were there and all three of them were