Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery by Edie Claire Page A

with him later.
    Leigh said nothing as Frank chatted idly, letting his uniformed assistant drive the patrol car. She went through procedure at the Central Detectives Bureau in a semi-conscious haze of mortification and annoyance. The routine was grimly familiar—and interminable. She had left an emergency message with Katharine Bower's assistant; now there was nothing else to do but sit on the hard metal chair in which her current escort had placed her, and wait for something else to happen.
    The whole thing seemed so surreal, she was almost able to pretend it was a charade. By rights, she should have been petrified. This wasn't possession of marijuana—it was murder. But in those moments when she did allow herself to think, she was certain her arrest was just a terrible mistake. They did have some circumstantial evidence against her. But they couldn't possibly have enough, because she hadn't done anything wrong . She refused to think in any terms other than that this was a misunderstanding—one that would be cleared up shortly. Very shortly.
    "You'll be arraigned at the coroner's office," Frank said casually, appearing out of thin air beside her. "From there, it's the county jail." Leigh tilted her head up at him, trying hard to look bored. She should be charitable, she knew—the evidence did make her look bad, and Frank didn't know her well enough to know what a colossal mistake he was making. But she wasn't feeling charitable. In fact, she was beginning to think she really was capable of murder.
    "We'd like to ask you a few more questions before you go. Do you mind?"
    Leigh lowered her head and considered. She hadn't said a word to him so far, and she had no intention of doing so without her lawyer. But neither the coroner's office nor the county jail was an enticing prospect, whereas jerking Frank's chain was. She nodded in consent and rose.
    Frank led her back to the interrogation table, where she sat in stony silence. Determined to meet his gaze—even as she completely ignored his first three questions—she pondered how to improve his appearance. A nose ring, perhaps? Purple sideburns? She decided on a metal stud in one eyebrow, with a matching one on the lower lip.
    "Ms. Koslow," the detective said with growing exasperation, "would you care to explain what you're smiling about?" His complexion was slightly more pink today, and he hadn't coughed all afternoon. Leigh wondered if the euphoria of a false arrest was good for his immune system. It was certainly wasn't helping hers. "I'm beginning to think you don't want to cooperate after all," he said tightly,  the anger in his voice now unmistakable.
    Leigh shrugged.
    Frank rose, his face reddening. He slammed out the glass door, gesticulated with another plainclothesman in the hall, and walked away. The second man opened the door quietly and sat down across from Leigh.
    "Hi. I'm Detective Stefanou. Would you like a drink of water or something?"
    She shook her head and surveyed the newcomer. He was short, solid, and dark, possibly of Greek extraction. His words were kind, but his eyes gave no clue to his thoughts.
    "You'll have to excuse Frank. He's had a rotten week, you know?" The detective leaned back casually in his chair. "I guess he hasn't been listening to you too well."
    Leigh smiled. It was straight out of a TV cop show—in her case, Cagney and Lacey . "I don't mean to be rude," she said sincerely, having nothing against this particular man, "but you're wasting your time if you think I'm going to fall for the good cop/bad cop thing. I'm not talking about the case because my lawyer isn't here, and as you know, that's the smart thing for me to do. But you're a good actor. Did you ever do community theater?"
    Stephanou's eyes widened for a second, then he laughed heartily. "High school—Albert Peterson, Bye Bye Birdie . Want to hear 'Put on a Happy Face?'"
    Leigh laughed with him. "I'll pass. Perhaps under more pleasant circumstances." She caught Frank's pale