Murder in the Supreme Court (Capital Crimes Series Book 3) Read Free Page B

now.”
    His office was surprisingly small, considering the dimensions of the rest of the house. A glass coffee table in front of a beige couch served as his desk. Two orange club chairs faced the table. A comfortable brown leather recliner was in front of a draped window immediately to the couch’s left. On the wall behind the club chairs was an ornate dark leather couch, its headrest curving up like a swan’s neck.
    “A relic,” Dr. Sutherland said coldly from behind the glass table as he noticed Teller’s interest in the couch. He hadn’t stood when they’d entered.
    Teller smiled. “You don’t use it?”
    “Seldom, only when a patient insists. Most don’t. Please sit down.
You
can use that couch if you’d like.”
    Teller looked at the leather couch, turned to Sutherland and said, “Thanks, I think I will.” He sat on it and extended a leg along its length. Susanna sat in one of the club chairs.
    Dr. Sutherland leaned back on his couch and took in his visitors with restless eyes beneath bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows. He had a full head of white hair that threatened to erupt any moment into disarray. He was deeply tanned—sunlamp or Caribbean vacations? Teller wondered. His dress was studied casualness, sharply creased twill riding pants, boots shined to a mirror finish, a blue button-down shirt and pale yellow cardigan sweater. He evidently was aware that he was being scrutinized because he said, “I’ve canceled all professional obligations since this tragedy with my son.”
    “Of course,” Susanna said.
    “My condolences,” Teller said.
    “Thank you.”
    “It was good of you to see us,” Susanna said.
    “I didn’t expect both of you. Mr. Teller had made the appointment. Might I ask what official connection you have in this matter?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Susanna Pinscher. I’m with the Justice Department. Naturally, when something of this magnitude occurs, we’re brought into it.”
    “The world is brought into it,” he said, removing glasses that changed tint with the light, and rubbing his eyes. “Have either of you ever lost a child?” he asked.
    “No,” Teller said. “It must be tough. I have a couple of kids…”
    Sutherland replaced his glasses on his nose and looked at Susanna. “Do you have children, Mrs. Pinscher?”
    “Miss Pinscher. Yes, I have three. They live with my former husband.”
    “Very modern.”
    “It was best for both of us.”
    “Undoubtedly. It’s a trend.”
    “Pardon?”
    “Children being with the male partner. Biology has taken second place to social… progress.”
    Teller knew the tenor of the conversation was making Susanna uncomfortable. He sat up and said, “This is just the beginning, Dr. Sutherland. Nobody likes probing into a family in times of tragedy, but that’s what’s going to be happening until we get to the bottom line.”
    “Bottom line?”
    “A cliché. I work for someone who uses those terms. Look, I’m not sure there’s a hell of a lot to discuss today. It was important that we make contact because—”
    “Because along with many other people, I am a suspect in my son’s murder.”
    Teller nodded.
    “I understand that, Mr. Teller.”
    “How about Mrs. Sutherland? Will she understand it?”
    “To the extent she needs to. I didn’t kill my son.”
    “I don’t doubt it. Who else is in the family?”
    “My daughter. She’s in California working on her doctorate in English literature.”
    Teller asked, “Will she be here for the funeral?”
    “There are some logistical problems with that, Mr. Teller.” Sutherland stood and his height surprised his visitors. His posture on the couch indicated a shorter man, but he’d unraveled himself into over six feet. He extended his hand and said, “You will excuse me.”
    Teller asked as he shook hands, “What about Mrs. Sutherland, doctor? When can we see her?”
    “Obviously not for quite a while. She’s under heavy sedation. Perhaps later in the week.”
    “Of