To Love and to Perish - By Lisa Bork Page 0,21

travel mug of coffee in hand. I sat waiting for him in my office. He called out “Good morning, Jo” from the showroom and disappeared into the garage.

Never once in the last four years had he failed to come in my office to sit and chat for a while, nor in all the years prior when he’d worked for my dad. Most days he even had a few jokes to tell. No way was he going to get away from me today.

My heels rapped the floor as I marched through the showroom and entered the orderly three-bay garage. Cory had a Volvo on the lift and a Mercedes on jacks. I didn’t know what he was doing to either of them. The garage was his domain, and he was a certified mechanic for at least a dozen common foreign manufacturers.

“I got donuts.”

“Awesome.” With his back to me, Cory stepped into a pair of overalls and pulled surgical gloves over his hands. He’d learned a long time ago that grease under the fingernails didn’t work for a man who liked to be on stage, not to mention he was a bit of a clean freak. No oily floors or smelly rags in his garage.

“Want to come in the office and have one?”

“Maybe later. The Volvo’s due at eleven.”

I leaned against his workbench, determined not to be driven away. “I called you twice yesterday.”

He grabbed a wrench and stepped under the Volvo to work one of its bolts. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I had a busy day.”

“I heard you attended Brennan’s hearing. How’d that go?”

“As expected.”

“Really? I was surprised Brennan doesn’t have the cash to post bail. He must be worth millions.”

Cory’s shoulders slumped. “Most of his money is in real estate, and he has expenses.”

“Like what?”

Cory sprang from underneath the Volvo and tossed the wrench on his workbench, where it clattered to a halt inches from the far edge of the bench. “I’m not sure, Jo. I’m not sure about anything, okay? Brennan won’t talk to me. He doesn’t want me around. And you won’t help me. Everything I find out just makes me more worried.”

I studied his face. Dark circles and a pinkish tinge to the whites of his eyes suggested Cory hadn’t slept much since I saw him last. “Why? What have you found out?”

“Nothing.” His face was the picture of innocence.

Of course, Cory was an accomplished actor, but he’d given the answer Danny always gave Ray and me when we caught him doing something he shouldn’t. Nothing, my sweet fanny.

I decided to try a new route. “Where were you the rest of yesterday?”

“Nowhere.”

Another of Danny’s favorite answers. I burst out laughing. “Cory, you’re lying to me, and you’re not even doing a very good job of it.”

He had the good graces to blush. “Then stop asking me questions and I won’t have to lie anymore.”

“Cory!”

He stripped his gloves off and tossed them in the nearby plastic garbage can. “Okay, okay, let’s go in your office and sit down.”

We settled in the black leather office chairs, Cory in front of the laminated desk and me behind it. I handed him a donut. He ate it in two bites and washed it down with his coffee. I slid another one in front of him. It disappeared. I wondered when he’d eaten last.

He waved off the third, mine. “What do you think Brennan had for breakfast this morning?”

The bite of donut I had taken wedged in my throat. All I could do was shrug.

Cory didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy looking toward the floor. “I did something I probably shouldn’t have. You’re not going to be proud of me.”

I’d managed to dislodge the donut and swallow it. “What did you do, Cory?”

His gaze met mine. “You can’t tell Ray.”

This presented a problem. It wasn’t that I told Ray everything. Heavens, no. Although Ray was the first person I wanted to tell anything and truly my best friend, some things he didn’t want or need to know. Often in the past, the most significant of these things had related to Erica. But if Cory had done something illegal or found out something pertinent to the case, my obligation would be to tell Ray, even though another county altogether had charge of this investigation and he wasn’t really involved. I wasn’t going to pretend any different.

“No promises until I hear what you did.”

Cory signed. “First I drove to Albany and went through the newspaper archives at