Sweet Anger(19)

“I don’t—”

“A simple yes or no.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed.

He retreated somewhat. He didn’t like the twin spots of color that had bloomed in her cheeks, making the rest of her face look even more pale. Her fingers, gripped tightly together in her lap, looked bloodless. Had she lost weight?

He forced his mind back to business. You want this conviction, don’t you? You don’t want these crooks who have been bleeding taxpayers for years to go free, do you? Then, get with the program, McKee, and stop thinking about her as a woman. Stop thinking that you’d much rather be holding her protectively than attacking her with leading questions. And for God’s sake, stop looking at her face like a lovesick calf.

Impatiently he shoved his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. He noticed that Guy was looking at him curiously. Was his uneasiness that obvious? “And would you say that rented boats and limousines, etc., were also luxuries associated with pleasure trips?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

He turned on her belligerently, as though to prove to himself that he still could. “Then as long as you’re supposing, why do you suppose Mr. Wynne arranged for these luxurious means of transportation when he was ostensibly conducting business for the city of Denver?”

“He didn’t!”

“Objection,” the defense attorney said from his table. “Mr. McKee is calling for a conclusion from the witness.”

“Sustained,” the judge intoned.

If Hunter had allowed himself to smile, his expression would have been smug. The jury had already heard his accusation and Kari’s vehement denial. “Is this your late husband’s signature on this charge receipt?” He shoved a slip of paper in her face.

Her eyes scanned it rapidly. “It … it looks like it. I can’t be—”

“And this.” Another paper was thrust at her. “And this.”

The defense attorney came to his feet. “Your Honor, Mr. McKee is badgering the witness. She can’t swear to the validity of the signatures on those receipts. Only an expert could.”

“Sustained. Mr. McKee, I think you’ve made your point.”

“Yes, Your Honor.” He looked back at Kari and was alarmed by the faint trace of perspiration beading her upper lip and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He leaned forward and whispered. “Are you all right? Would you like a glass of water?” He had an almost irresistible impulse to take her hands between his and warm them. Instinctively he knew they were as cold as ice.

“No, thank you,” she said stiffly, not meeting his eyes, but looking over his shoulder.

He didn’t press, but stepped back. She despised him. And he hadn’t even gotten to the bad part yet. To give her time to restore herself, he needlessly studied his notes. When he had wasted as much time as he could, he approached her again.

“Did your late husband entertain on these business trips of his, Mrs. Wynne?”

“I’ve already told you. I wasn’t with him. I don’t know.”

“Take a guess.”

The defense attorney came to his feet again. “Objection, Your Hon—”

“I retract the question,” Hunter interrupted. He ambled toward the witness box and propped his forearm over the railing in a relaxed pose, as though he and Kari were doing nothing more than having a casual chat. “When your husband was alive, did you entertain in your home frequently?”

“Yes. Thomas had many friends. He liked to entertain.”

His right eyebrow rose. “But you didn’t?”

“I didn’t mean to imply that,” she snapped. “Yes, I did; very much.”

“And you said that Mr. Wynne enjoyed entertaining.”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s reasonable to assume that Mr. Wynne played host when he was away as well.”

“Your Honor, counsel is—”

The judge held up his hand. “I think I know where Mr. McKee is going with this line of questioning, and I’d like to hear Mrs. Wynne’s answer.”

“But again it calls for conclusion on the part of the witness,” the defense attorney persisted.

“I’ll rephrase the question,” Hunter said obligingly. “Do you know of any specific occasions when your husband entertained while he was away?”

Her gaze was unsteady. She didn’t know how to respond and was groping for an evasive answer. “No,” she said at last. Hunter sensed she was telling the truth.

“He never mentioned hosting a party or dinner or lunch?”

“He might have. I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember? Weren’t you ever curious as to what he did while he was away from you?”