Deadly Beloved(115)

Julianne Corbett walked away from the window and back to her desk. She sat down behind the green felt blotter and put the palms of her hands down flat against the wood on either side of it. Her skin color was back to something like normal again. At least, Gregor couldn’t find any skin color under the mask of makeup. He couldn’t find anything at all in Julianne Corbett’s eyes.

“I think,” she said, “that this is all extremely interesting. I think you could probably sell it as a novel. But I don’t think I have to take it seriously.”

“I have to take it seriously,” John Jackman said, suddenly reminding them both of his presence. “Gregor, for Christ’s sake. Have you got any proof of any of this?”

“Of course he hasn’t,” Julianne Corbett said. “He couldn’t possibly have. All of this is nonsense.”

“It sounds like nonsense,” John Jackman said.

Gregor Demarkian was nodding his head slowly, slowly. Outside, the storm was growing stronger and nastier. The wind had begun to whistle and howl and rattle the windows. The sky was absolutely black.

“There are a number of ways to prove what I’ve been saying,” Gregor said, “starting with a very simple trace of the amounts of money Patsy MacLaren Willis contributed to your political campaigns.”

“We already know she contributed to my political campaigns,” Julianne said coldly. “We knew that even before Karla got hurt in that blast.”

“We could also look into the days and times when Stephen Willis was home from his traveling and correlate them with the days and times when you were unavailable for work or meetings.”

“I’m always available for work and meetings,” Julianne said. “I have to be. I don’t know how it is you think people get into the position I’m in, Mr. Demarkian, but it isn’t by taking out great whacking blocks of time to mollify phantom husbands.”

“And then there’s the trump card,” Gregor said. “There’s the simple fact that Karla Parrish is now very much awake and very eager to talk. And her friend Evan Walsh has a few things he wants to say too.”

Gregor didn’t know what he expected Julianne Corbett to do then, but it wasn’t what she did do, which was essentially nothing. Everything in Gregor’s body had gone tense, expecting trouble. Julianne Corbett not only gave no trouble, she seemed to resign from existence.

She sat behind her desk with her hands still flat against the wood, looking as if she had been turned to stone.