Devil in the Dock (A Robin Starling Courtroom Mystery) Read Free Page B

back and digging my toe into her welcome mat. I do have some shame.
    “What do you want to talk about?” she said, again almost in a whisper.
    Lowering my own voice, I said, “For starters, I understand your next-door neighbor died recently.”
    She shook her head in a quick, birdlike gesture. “He didn’t die. He was killed.”
    “By a man named Bob Shorter?”
    “That’s what they say.”
    “Why would he do it? Do you have any idea?”
    “Maybe for the fun of it?”
    “That makes Shorter out to be pure evil. Is he really as bad as that?”
    She seemed to study me.
    “I’ve met the man, so I can readily believe he is.” I smiled. “I would be interested in supporting evidence.”
    “Jenn said you’re going to try to get him off.”
    Jenn had been busy. “It’s more complicated than that,” I said. “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it’s for or against.”
    “Is that a quote from someone?”
    “It sounds like it, doesn’t it? I’m pretty sure it’s not Shakespeare, but that’s about all I can tell you.”
    She took a breath, steeling herself. She stepped back and pulled the door wider. “Come in.”
    We sat in her living room in facing chairs. Her hands were clasped in her lap.
    “My name is Robin Starling,” I said.
    “So you said.”
    I waited.
    “Melissa,” she said finally.
    “Melissa . . .”
    “Stimmler.” Her eyes were the color of the sky.
    “Melissa Stimmler. Do you know anything about what happened next door?”
    She shook her head.
    “Did you ever see Bob Shorter entering or leaving Bill Hill’s house?” I asked. “I mean, in the last week or so.”
    “No. Never.”
    “Did you see anyone else entering or leaving?”
    “Just Bill. Bill doesn’t have many visitors.”
    “But he has had some?”
    “Not recently.”
    I nodded. My list of alternative suspects remained a blank page. “Did Bob Shorter hate Mr. Hill, as far as you know?” I asked.
    “He hates everybody.”
    Specifics regarding Bob Shorter were hard to come by. “Did Mr. Hill hate Bob Shorter?” I asked.
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Do you know why?”
    “Lots of reasons,” she said.
    “For instance . . .”
    “You said it yourself.”
    “I did?”
    “Mr. Shorter is evil. He’s an evil, evil man.”
    “That sounds like a story.” I sat back in my chair and smiled encouragingly, but she didn’t say anything more on the subject of Mr. Shorter’s evil nature. I tried leaning forward. “What’s he done?” I whispered conspiratorially.
    “He killed Bill Hill.” Her blue eyes brimmed with tears. “Poor ol’ Bill,” she said. A tear spilled from her lower lid and slid down her cheek.
    “I’m sorry,” I said.
    She nodded.
    “May I leave you a business card? Maybe if you think of something . . .” I put it on the end table by her chair. I was at the door when she said something, and I turned back.
    “Don’t help him,” she said. “Don’t help him get away with it.”
    “We can’t be completely sure he did it, can we?”
    “I’m sure.”
    “How can you be? Did you see something? Hear something?”
    “I’m just sure. We all are,” she said.

Chapter 3
    Paul Soldano’s car was parked on the curb in front of my house, I noticed it as I crossed my street to the alley that led to my driveway. I parked my car in the garage and walked through the house to the front door.
    Paul was sitting on the front steps with my dog, a chocolate Labrador retriever. As I pulled the door open, Deeks spun out from under Paul’s arm so fast that he nearly turned himself inside out. Paul got up more slowly. He was shorter than I was and more squarely built. Okay, he was chubby, a teddy bear of a man who I think would have been content to have me drag him around by one arm everywhere I went.
    “Back from your trip early?” I said, stepping onto the front porch and scratching the top of Deeks’s head. Paul was a bank examiner, and he was on the road more weeks