Swan Song (Julie O'Hara Mystery Series) by Lee Hanson Page A

“But you call out if you need me. I can hear you even with the door closed.”
    Hmm…I’ll keep that in mind.
    She phoned Joe across the foyer. He picked up right away.
    “I swear, Joe, if they don’t stop interrupting me, I’m going to have to take this whole file home,” said Julie, sotto voce . “It’s bad enough that Luz is coming in every fifteen minutes to see if I’m alright, but Janet’s been in my office twice this morning, too! First she brought me flowers, then soup . I can’t concentrate with these mother-hens clucking around me.”
    Joe smiled, chuckling at the picture of Julie, sitting in her office with her left leg propped up, steaming, like her soup.
    “Julie says to tell you the soup is wonderful , Janet,” he said loudly.
    Janet, now back at her desk, beamed. “The poor thing,” she said. “Tell her I’ll bring her some more to take home.”
    “I’m going to kill you ,” said Julie on the phone.
    •
    At quarter to five, Joe joined Julie in her office. Among other things, she’d been going through Dianna Wieland’s file piece by piece. As for Joe, he’d been tied up all afternoon testifying in court on another case.
    “How did it go?” she asked.
    “It was a pain. I spent two hours sitting on a bench outside the courtroom waiting for them to call me. When they did, it was over in fifteen minutes. Plus, I think my guy is toast, anyway.”
    “Here, let me help you,” he said as she lifted her booted leg off the cushions.
    “I can manage, thank you,” she said, grabbing her crutches.
    “Right,” said Joe, moving out of her way. “The way you swing those things, you’re liable to break my leg.”
    “Don’t tempt me.”
    “Oh, c’mon, lighten up. What do you want for dinner? Italian? Chinese? Steak? I can make steak. Do you still have that patio grill?”
    He really is sweet.
    “I’d love some steak. Do we have to stop at the store?”
    “Nope. I’ve got two upstairs. I’ll be right down.”
    Since the attack, Joe had been driving Julie back and forth. Her condo building had an elevator, making it more practical than his apartment upstairs. In minutes, he was back with a tote bag of steaks, salad and wine. He grabbed the file on Dianna Wieland, too, and led the way out, holding the doors open for Julie.
    When they arrived at her condo, Julie keyed in the code on her new electronic keypad. Joe had installed the new super-bolt door lock, which emitted a shrill alarm if an incorrect code was entered three times. In an excess of caution, he’d also reinforced the French doors around the balcony.
    They sat out there now, Julie sipping on some Cabernet, while the steaks cooked.
    “I thought of a couple of things today, Joe.”
    “Okay, shoot.”
    “First, Sabrina Nolen was Mike Menello’s alibi. That doesn’t make his alibi any less valid, except that she was visibly uncomfortable when I brought up his name.”
    “I remember that,” said Joe. “She sat back and crossed her arms.”
    “Yes. You know how I’ve always cautioned that one gesture alone is not as significant as a cluster?”
    He nodded.
    “Well, two movements we frequently see together are ‘interrupt’ gestures. Like children in school, we all tend to raise a hand when we want to interrupt, eager to say something. But we don’t stick the hand up in the air anymore. We catch ourselves five or six inches up and reach for our earlobe, unconsciously embarrassed.”
    “I’ve done that,” said Joe smiling. “But Sabrina didn’t do that.”
    “No. She did exactly the opposite , in rapid order.
    “Sabrina didn’t like the question about Mike Menello, so she sat back and crossed her arms. When I pressed her about his ‘hard feelings’ regarding Dianna, she undid her arms and tugged her earlobe indicating anxiety, then her other hand inched up slightly, meaning, ‘halt, or stop’. At that point she looked at her watch and we were done.
    “That cluster indicates more than a reluctance to talk,