Gray, Ginna Read Online Free Page B

to her aid. The only
person who had been there for her when she had so desperately needed a friend.
    So she had blanked out what she had not wanted to be true. And
later she had ignored the obvious.
    It had not been difficult to push aside her suspicions. Carlo had
always treated her with a charming, old-world sort of respect and admiration.
And as long as she was being completely honest, she might as well admit that it
hadn't hurt that he'd been a devoted fan of classical music.
    Groaning, Lauren raked both hands through her hair. Right. As
though that automatically guaranteed good character.
    What a blind fool she'd been.
    She was operating on raw nerves, and when the door opened she
jumped and whirled around. Relief poured through her the instant she spotted
Detective Morgan. He had been kind and supportive earlier. His lieutenant, however,
had been harsh and openly skeptical of her story.
    Her tension returned when five other men followed the detective
into the room. One was Lieutenant Dumphries, but she hadn't seen the others
before. Three of the strangers were neatly attired in conservative suits and
ties, but it was the other man, the taller of the four newcomers, who drew her
eye.
    His hair was thick and black as midnight. So were his deep-set
eyes. Beard stubble shadowed the lower half of a face that could only be
described as hawkish. He looked hard as nails.
    His penetrating stare drew Lauren's nerves tighter, and she
switched her gaze back to Detective Morgan.
    "Detective, I'm so glad you're back. Have you arrested Mr.
Giovessi yet? May I go home now?"
    "No, not yet. Why don't you have a seat, Miss Brownley? This
is Special Agent Sam Rawlins and Agents Todd Berringer, Roy O'Connor and Dave
Owens from the FBI. They'd like to ask you a few questions."
    "The FBI? But I don't understand. I didn't know the FBI got
involved in murder cases."
    "There's no reason for you to worry, miss," one of the
FBI men replied, flashing a charming smile. "Normally that's quite true.
However, there are other factors involved here."
    "What Agent Berringer is trying to say is, when a suspect is
a known mob boss involved in drug dealing we're talking federal crime. We've
been trying to put your friend Carlo away for a long time."
    "Have a seat, Ms. Brownley." Agent Berringer held out a
chair. When Lauren complied he poured her a glass of water from the pitcher on
the table and said kindly, "Now then, why don't you start at the beginning
and tell us what happened."
    Lauren's hand shook as she took a sip of water. Her gaze darted to
Detective Morgan. "I don't understand. I've been through this with the
police already. Twice."
    "And now you're going to go through it with us," the
hawk-faced man stated without the least hint of sympathy. "For starters,
let's get a little background information. How long have you worked at the Club
Classico?"
    "A little over two months."
    "And how long have you known Mr. Giovessi?"
    "I...well...I first met him two years ago."
    "How did you meet him?"
    "He came to visit me in the hospital after I had a car
accident."
    Sam looked up from the notes he was scribbling. "If you
didn't know him, why did he visit you?"
    "He knew of me. You see, at that time I was a concert
pianist. Mr. Giovessi is a fan of classical music and he said he'd been
following my career. I was in Denver on tour when the accident occurred. He
read about it in the newspaper, and when he learned that one of my hands had
been crushed and I might never play again, he came to the hospital to offer
sympathy and whatever assistance he could."
    Agent Rawlins's gaze flickered to her left hand. Thin white lines
crisscrossed the back like a road map. Self-conscious, Lauren laid her right
hand over the left to hide the scars.
    "And you had no idea who he was?"
    "No. I told you, I was on tour. Until two days before the
accident I had never even been in Denver before."
    "So why did you stay here? You obviously didn't lose the use
of your hand. You still