Chapter 17
I glared at him. The detective didn’t back down. I said, “Forget it.”
“Mrs. Schulz, please.” Was that a hint of entreaty in Blackridge’s voice?
I turned to Julian. “Where’s Tom?”
“We don’t need Investigator Schulz,” Blackridge interjected. “Just you.”
I gave him as scathing a look as a woman scared out of her wits could summon on short notice. Nan, meanwhile, scuttled off. I turned back to my assistants. To Julian, I said in a low voice, “Could you please find Tom and tell him I need him?”
Julian nodded and took off in the direction of the kitchen. I addressed Liz. “Would you be willing to call Brewster Motley? He’s my attorney, and he’s in the phone book. If at all possible, I need him to meet me down at the sheriff’s department.”
“I’m not taking you to the department.”
