A Wrongful Death

“Sure to delight any legal-thriller fan.”

—Publishers Weekly on Sleight of Hand

“Wilhelm claims a leading place in the ranks of trial suspense writers.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Wilhelm creates a genuinely eerie atmosphere that pulls readers in and keeps them turning the pages.”

—Booklist on The Price of Silence

“The smoothest mystery novel to come along in quite a while.”

—Associated Press on Clear and Convincing Proof

“As always, genre veteran Wilhelm creates a thought-provoking, complex plot that will keep readers interested.”

—Booklist on The Unbidden Truth

“Her carefully crafted approach to the legal thriller continues to separate Wilhelm from the competition.”

—Publishers Weekly on No Defense

“Sensitive, thought-provoking, and involving, Death Qualified is an unqualified success.”

—Los Angeles Times Book Review

“Wilhelm is a masterful storyteller whose novels have just the right blend of solid plot, compelling mystery, and great courtroom drama.”

—Library Journal

“Brilliantly plotted, lyrically written, alluring and magical…Wilhelm’s story is a wrenching masterpiece about love, loyalty, and lies.”

—Booklist on The Good Children

“Engrossing plot twists…”

—Publishers Weekly on Clear and Convincing Proof

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

The New York branch of the Farrell Publishing Group had six offices, a small reception room and enough books and manuscripts to fill a space triple the size it occupied. Much of the overflow was in Elizabeth Kurtz’s tiny office. Boxes were stacked on boxes and the filing cabinets were so packed that they were seldom opened, since it was almost impossible to remove a folder to examine its contents. On shelves and on the floor were stacks of dictionaries, science reference books and pamphlets. A bulletin board held so many overlapping notes and memos that some of them had yellowed and curled at the edges. The small sign on her door read: Elizabeth Kurtz Assistant Editor. That door had not been closed all the way in the three years that she had used the office on Mondays and Thursdays. The door would start to close, then stick, leaving a three-or four-inch gap. It had bothered her in the beginning, but she never thought of it any longer, and paid little attention to any activity in the hall beyond it.

That October day she was frowning at a sentence she was trying to unravel, something to do with paleontology, she assumed, since that was the subject of the manuscript.

The door was pushed open and Terry Kurtz entered and tried to close the door behind him. When it stuck, he gave it a vicious push, to no avail.

“What are you doing in here? Get out! Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying,” Elizabeth snapped, half rising from her chair.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said, and tried again to close the door. He cursed and kicked it when it stuck.

“I’m calling security,” she said, reaching for the phone. He rushed around the desk and grabbed her wrist, wrenching her hand back.

“Just shut up and listen,” he said in a low voice, keeping an eye on the door, holding her wrist in a numbing grip. “I just came from the hospital. They’re going to operate on Dad in the morning, emergency open-heart surgery, and they don’t think he’ll make it. He told me something. Mom left us alone for a couple of minutes and he told me. Taunted me with it.”

Elizabeth felt no more sense of loss or grief than Terry was showing. She tried to pull away from his grasp, and he tightened his hold and leaned in closer, whispering now. “When he found out you were pregnant, he assigned a share of the company to us, in both our names. He was going to hand it over when Jason was a year old and I was thirty-five, a present to celebrate my birthday, our marriage and a grandchild, but you spoiled it when you got on your high horse and kicked me out. He put the assignment away somewhere. It’s still valid, except Mom will get her hands on whatever that document is and she’ll shred it faster than she’ll order his cremation. I’ve got his keys, and I intend to find it first. You have to help me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” she cried. “Get out of here and leave me alone!”

Voices in the hall outside her door rose as the speakers drew nearer. Terry released her wrist and straightened up, and she jumped from her chair and stepped behind it. Neither spoke until the voices faded, then were gone.

“If you touch me again, I’ll have you arrested for assault!” she said.

“That assignment means a hefty income for the rest of your life and Jason’s if you sell it back tomorrow. And when the company sale goes through that amount will triple, quadruple! No more dingy office where the door won’t even close. You have to think what it will mean for our son.”