Until Proven Guilty by J. A. Jance

Author:J. A. Jance [Jance, J. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2009-10-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

It was only as we rounded the corner of Lenora onto Third that I remembered Anne was in my apartment. My mind had switched tracks completely, and now I didn’t know what to do. I decided I’d better call her from the lobby and give her some warning of her impending company.

She seemed pleased to hear my voice. “I’m downstairs,” I said. “I’m bringing Peters up with me.”

“Who was that?” Peters asked with a conspiratorial grin as we got on the elevator. “Anybody I know?”

“As a matter of fact, you do know her. It’s Anne, Anne Corley.”

“Why you closemouthed son-of-a-bitch! I got the impression at lunch yesterday that you and she had just met. How long have you been holding out on me?”

The elevator door opened on eight. “Can it!” I snapped as Wanda Jamison got on, coffee cup in hand. She was on her way for a morning coffee klatch with Ida, my next-door neighbor. Wanda and I exchanged idle pleasantries while Peters continued to leer at me over her head.

If I thought Anne would have used the lead time to change out of my robe, I was sadly mistaken. She didn’t. I was glad I waited until Ida’s door was safely closed before I knocked on my own. Anne opened the door and gave Peters a gracious welcome, as though her being there in a state of relative undress were the most natural thing in the world. She was totally at ease, and Peters was getting a real charge out of my discomfort.

Peters made himself some tea while I paced the confines of my tiny kitchen. “What do you suggest we do with her while we listen to the tape?” he asked.

“I give up.” I was long on embarrassment and short on ideas right then. I had told Anne she could stay as long as she liked, but I couldn’t have her in the room while Peters and I listened to our illicit tape.

Peters carried his cup into the living room. He took my chair. I sat on the couch next to a cross-legged Anne. It disturbed me to be next to her. I wanted to touch her, but not in front of Peters. I didn’t want to soften my image—whatever was left of it.

Peters looked at Anne. “Do you mind if we play a tape?”

Anne contemplated Peters with her direct, gray gaze. “Do you want me to leave? I can go in the other room.”

Peters glanced in my direction, then nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

Obligingly, Anne rose. “I’ll go get dressed then,” she said. Much to my dismay, she leaned over and gave me a familiar peck on the cheek as she went by. The robe fell open, allowing me a fleeting glimpse of flesh and curve.

Once she was out of the room, Peters pointed an accusing finger at me. “You assole,” he said. “If you’d told me yesterday, I never would have tagged along with you to lunch.”

I didn’t feel like explaining that, yesterday at lunch, I hadn’t known either.

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