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

visage peeking around the corner of the hall, and she smiled wider. "So it's Frank's time of the month, eh? Is he ever in a good mood?"
    Carlisle studied her thoughtfully. "He's happy when he gets his man."
    Leigh smirked. "Well, no wonder he's down."
    The detective spoke softly. "You saying you're innocent?"
    Leigh smiled sadly and shook her head. "You're good, detective, but as I told you, I'm no idiot. If you want to talk about the weather, fine. But until my lawyer—" Catching some movement outside, she stopped and smiled. Warren's "shark among women" had arrived.
    Attorney Katharine Bower blew into the room like a small hurricane, angry and building up steam. "My client will not answer any questions until we've had a chance to review the evidence," she said authoritatively, glaring openly at Frank as he followed her through the door.
    Frank's dark eyes shot daggers back at her. "Your client hasn't said beans," he said with a pained smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she was stalling to avoid transport."
    "Then she's damn smart," Katharine snapped, still looking only at Frank. "But in this case, we'll have to hurry up the process. She's got a bail hearing in"—she glanced at her watch—"exactly three hours. So juice up the paddy wagon."
    Leigh's heart jumped, warmth quickly radiating through her chest. She was going to get out on bail. Today! She beamed at her attorney with the kind of visual worship she usually reserved for confectioneries.
    "How the hell'd you do that?" Frank exploded.
    Katharine shrugged. The lawyer and detective continued to spar with frightening glances and frosty words, but Leigh paid little attention. What mattered was when she got out, not how.
    She endured her tour of Pittsburgh's criminal accommodations with a mixture of hope and creativity: the hope that she would never be back, and the creativity of pretending she was never really there. Imagining she was an undercover reporter proved helpful—by the time she was piled into a van for final transport to the courthouse, her piece on the treatment of local prisoners was already half written in her head. She even had a marketing strategy for selling it to the Post .
    But her optimism couldn't last forever. It was not until after the hearing had begun that she realized bail might require money. She considered the sum total of her assets, and hoped that the judge was having an extraordinarily good day. She was already indebted to Warren for Katharine's bill, which could be enormous if this nonsense carried on. Her parents would do what they could—but they certainly weren't wealthy. How bad would it be?
    Leigh waited anxiously as the prosecutor impressed on the judge the heinousness of the crime, requesting that bail be denied. She was certain for several horrifying minutes that this logic would prevail, but she had underestimated Katharine Bower. The attorney quickly took charge of the proceedings, convincing the judge that choir-girl Leigh, active member of the Greenstone United Methodist Church, was no threat to anyone, much less a flight risk. Katharine was so persuasive that Leigh found herself hoping for a bail with four digits. She was to be disappointed.
    When the judge announced the final figure, Leigh's heart fell into her shoes. She didn't know exactly how bail bonding worked, but even ten percent of that awful number was more than she could make in a year. Her parents couldn't quickly pull together that kind of money, either.
    She was going back to jail.
    Katharine noticed the horror in her client's eyes, but instead of sympathy, she offered reproach. "You should be smiling," she chastised. "Do you have any idea what kind of odds we just beat?"
    Leigh laughed sadly. "Half a million dollars? What good does that do me?"
    Katharine softened. "Relax, will you? The money's being taken care of. I assumed you knew."
    The blank look on Leigh's face urged Katharine to continue.
    "Your policewoman friend Maura Polanski called me early