Franklin Pierce was surprised to see us. He had reasons to be surprised. We were sitting in his office waiting for him when he finally showed up. We were four hours away from heading out to the Stewart house to interview Jocelyn Steward. Of course, when he entered his office and saw us sitting on an expensive-looking leather divan, legs crossed and looks of boredom on our faces, he thought we were early.
“But Detectives, I thought we agreed to interview Mrs. Stewart at her home,” he said, a wide-faced look of surprise on his soft features as he hurried into his office and laid a briefcase on his wide desk. “There’s no possible way she could be ready to talk to you this early.”
“Not here to talk to her,” I said, grinning, as I watched the almost petite lawyer circle around his desk and si
