![]() Propped against the wall on a thin Italian loafer, he was black and hadn’t said anything except to introduce himself. Nothing to drink.” He made deliberate eye contact with Detective Kovich, who was closer and seemed friendlier than the other detective. Their bifocal window magnified his eyes, which were earth brown and addressed Jack without apparent judgment. A bumpy, working-class nose dominated his face and he had cheekbones so fleshy they pressed against the rims of his glasses, large gold-rimmed aviators. His shoulders hunched, powerful but gone to fat, and khaki-colored Sansabelts strained to cover his thighs. The detective wore a short-sleeved white shirt, light for wintertime, and his bullish neck spread his collar open. “You want a soda? A Coke or somethin’?” Kovich asked. He had always wished the Buxton money away, but now he was glad of it. A bookkeeper’s son, he had worked his way through school to become an estates lawyer who earned seven figures, but even his large partnership draw remained a pittance in comparison to his wife’s family money. “Thank you.” Jack took a seat, noting that the detective had bypassed the steel chair, evidently reserved for murderers who weren’t wealthy. ![]() Newlin,” Detective Kovich said, gesturing to a wooden chair across from him. One of the chairs groaned when the heavyset detective, who had introduced himself as Stan Kovich, seated himself and planted his feet wide. A typewriter table topped with a black Smith-Corona stood against the side wall, and in front of the table sat two old wooden chairs. ![]() The walls of the room were a dingy gray and marred by scuff marks as high as wainscoting. Bolted to the floor at the center of the room was a straight-backed steel chair, which reminded Jack of the electric chair. The detectives led Jack in handcuffs into a small, windowless room at the Roundhouse, Philadelphia’s police administration building. That he wasn’t a good enough liar, even for a lawyer. Once he had set his course, his only fear was that he wouldn’t get away with it. Jack Newlin had no choice but to frame himself for murder. Moment of Truth By Lisa Scottoline CHAPTER 1
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |