Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,17

or Paul.”

“And what if the buzz says that Yeoman’s buddy was Freeman Canto?”

Harte swallowed again. Of course that was the simplest explanation. Yeoman sent thugs to beat up Canto because Canto was reneging on some agreement or had failed to do something. Forget Stamps and Paul. Even if Dani really had heard her grandfather’s attackers shout their names as well as Yeoman’s, it could mean nothing. But he did believe Dani and he did not believe the threats the attackers had yelled while they were beating Freeman Canto to death were nothing. He lifted his chin a fraction of an inch and challenged Akers.

“You know I have no more evidence linking Yeoman with Canto than I do with either Stamps or Paul,” he said. “I’ve spent the past three months since you assigned me to the case trying to find a link while digging my way out of the avalanche of Felix Drury’s motions and disclosure requests. We’ve got the fingerprint of a small-time thug named Kirkle on the doorknob of Canto’s office, and I’m optimistic that he’ll cut a deal and give Yeoman up. But until I have that deal in hand, all I’ve got is Dani’s testimony. But there’s got to be something from last night—a speck of paint, a sliver of a broken headlight—which can lead us to the car that tried to run Dani down. I just need one tiny crumb of physical evidence that links Yeoman to these accidents. If I can get that, I can make the jury believe that he killed Canto.”

Akers popped open the lid of the foam container, increasing the mouthwatering smell of bacon and biscuits. “Are the police collecting that evidence?”

“Yes, sir. I haven’t heard what they’ve found yet, but they’re on it.”

The D.A. opened a drawer and pulled out a stainless-steel fork and knife. “Fine. Now get out of here before I decide to take you off this case and make you bring Mertz or Shallowford up to speed.”

“Yes, sir. There’s just one more thing, sir.”

Akers stared at him over his reading glasses. “What?” he demanded as he lowered the lid of the container.

“I just got a call from Jury Drury,” he said. “He harangued me about the police pulling Yeoman in for questioning about the incident with the car and Dani—Ms. Canto last night. But that wasn’t the main reason for his call.”

Akers’s expression didn’t change.

“He called to let me know that Yeoman has an airtight alibi for last night. He was with his family having dinner at Commander’s Palace.”

“Of course he was,” Akers said.

Harte smiled. “That’s what I said.”

“Get out of here.”

Harte turned and tried not to bolt out the door.

“And, Harte,” Akers said. “Try not to pull the entire Delancey clan into the fray.”

He nodded as he cleared the doorway. That wasn’t as bad as he’d thought it would be. His butt was still intact and so was his case. He had his uncle Tony, Judge Rossi, to thank for that.

* * *

BY A QUARTER to ten that night, Dani had showered and changed into pink satin pajamas and was sitting on the frilly Victorian bed with her mini notebook computer on her lap, working on a report that was due the next day. A sharp rap on the door startled her.

“Dani? It’s Officer Field. Detective Kaye is here for the overnight shift. I’d like to introduce her to you.”

Detective? It was protocol for the night-shift officer of a female witness to be female, but it was rare that detectives took protective detail. Dani set her computer aside, got up and, after grabbing a white shawl to throw around her shoulders, opened the door.

Field was still almost as crisp and polished as he’d been twelve hours earlier. Standing beside him was a woman in her early-to-mid-thirties. Her black hair was in a long straight ponytail. She was dressed in street clothes, slim tan pants and a green shirt that complemented her dark skin. The only thing that kept her from looking like a casual friend who’d stopped by to visit was the badge pinned to her waistband and the black leather shoulder holster. Draped over her left arm was a jacket that matched her pants.

“Hi,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m Detective Michele Kaye.” She had a firm grip.

“Dani Canto.” She searched her memory. Had she met Kaye before? “Nice to meet you, Detective.”

“Call me Michele,” the detective said.

“Okay, then,” Field continued. “I’m on my way. Y’all have a good night.”

Michele glanced around the living room,