by Keene, Susan
I jerked myself away from the cop when he tried to stop me. I didn’t care what they wanted; I would not sit another second. “You know I wouldn’t shoot anyone without a reason and I‘d call you immediately.”
He nodded to the jailer behind me who walked over to a TV and turned it on.
Unbelievable! The woman on the tape was a dead ringer for me. She had the same red hair, same height and weight, and she dressed in my style. No wonder they dragged me down to the station.
Whoever she was, she walked up to a man. It appeared, from what I could see, they exchanged angry words. The man grabbed her and tried to drag her away. She broke free, pulled, what looked like a gun out of her jacket, and shot him several times. She took the time to lean down and take an object out of his pocket before she left.
This woman was bold. She strolled into the crowd as they left the movie. They parted like Moses at the Red Sea. She showed no urgency. Her demeanor was that of someone out for an evening stroll. She walked out of camera range. No one tried to stop her. It must have been a weapon in her hand. Why else would they appear intimidated? I stumbled back to the chair and plopped down before I passed out. I couldn’t tell it wasn’t me. “I know that looks incriminating, but it’s not me. Can I see those tapes again?”
“Sure.”
This time, now that the shock was over, I watched closer. The man walked up to her. He grabbed her by both wrists and tried to pull her in his direction. After she wiggled herself free she reached into her pocket. He took a huge step back. The man took three bullets to his chest. When it happened the woman turned to look behind her. She hurriedly took something from his front jacket pocket, turned toward the movie theater and walked away. “When you look at it, really look at it, it looks like the shots came from behind her. I didn’t see a gun in her hand, did you? Maybe the people in the movie crowd were stunned to see someone murdered in front of them and she didn’t have a gun at all.
Roger stood, walked over and punched the off button. The tape stopped. “It gets better. She drove away in an older model BMW. What kind of car do you drive, Kate?”
Roger and the officer traded glances. “Come on, Kate. We both know it’s you. I’m the first one who would try to believe any reasonable story you gave me. Maybe you have a twin sister.”
“You know I’m an only child. Someone went to a lot of trouble to frame me for murder. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to kill someone and use an old Beemer as my getaway car. We both know Michael gave me that car. He did most of the restoration work himself.”
Michael was my husband who was murdered five years earlier.
Roger came around and sat on the corner of his desk. “You’re right. I don’t want to believe you killed anyone. I saw her look back like someone or something was behind her, and we can’t definitively identify a weapon in her hand. All you have to do is tell me exactly what happened and you can go home.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t think of anything I could say to make it better.
“In my heart, I can’t believe you killed someone in cold blood; or otherwise. Since you can’t tell me about it, and you can’t prove you were home asleep, I’m going to book you. Don’t look at me like that Kate. I have a lot of people to answer to. I’d lose my job if I let you walk out of here. I took the liberty of notifying Ryan. I thought you might need moral support. Meanwhile, you can cool your heels in holding. By the way, there are reporters outside trying to find out what happened. You’re famous Kate. I know you didn’t want to be, but you are.”
I rested my head in my hands for a few seconds and rubbed my eyes. “Who was the man?”
Roger stood. “All we know right now, I learned from what he carried in his pockets. He wore a Giorgio Armani suit and Bally shoes. You’re talking a lot of money. His name was Tony De Grasse, forty years old. There was a .357 Magnum on the ground next to him. Was it yours, Kate? What did you take out of his pocket? His driver’s license indicated he lived in New Jersey. He had a rap sheet with many arrests and no convictions. It looks like he might have been with the Mafia. Does any of this make sense to you?”
The door opened and there stood my boyfriend, Ryan. I wondered how much Roger had told him.
I don’t know if I was more angry or scared. People went to prison for life on less evidence than what they had on me. I walked to Ryan. He opened his arms and I tried to disappear into his embrace.
“Did they tell you they’re charging me with…?” I turned to Roger. “What are the charges?”
He nodded a greeting to Ryan and answered. “Manslaughter two, armed criminal action, illegal use of a firearm, so far, the DA will review the case. He might amend it.”
I stepped back and put my hands on my hips. “That’s crazy. I have my weapon on me and it hasn’t been fired. I’ve always carried a Glock 19. You know that. Ryan gave me a look I interpreted as―don’t say another word.
CHAPTER 2
A woman officer took my gun, cell phone, socks, jewelry, and the rubber band from my hair before she led me to a holding cell. The only good thing about the situation was they didn’t take me to the county jail and stick me in with the general population. I had the six by eight feet cell to myself in the safety of the police station.
Ryan pulled a chair up to the bars and sat so we could talk. “I go out of town for three days and you get in trouble.”
“I understand you’re trying to lighten the mood Ryan, but it’s not going to happen. They let you see the tape. She looks like me.”
Ryan and I had been friends since college. We got closer after the murder of my husband. Our problem remained the same from day one. Because Michael was dead, didn’t mean I had stopped loving him.
For the most part, Ryan and I had a great relationship. If could stop my feelings for my dead husband, I could make the final commitment to him. Thank goodness, he didn’t push.
He stood and backed away. “Don’t say anything to Roger, but there’s a message on the apartment phone. It’s from a woman with a distinct Eastern accent. She let me know she was sorry for the trouble she caused. She didn’t kill anyone, and she’ll make this up to you.”
I leaned against the bars. “What do you think that means? It must be the woman in the video.”
“At this point, it’s hard to say what’s going on. I need for Neil to take a look at the tapes before you see a judge. But they’ll only hand them over to your attorney. With your permission, I’ll call James King to represent you. They’ll give the tapes to him.”
Neil was Ryan’s tech guy and James King was his personal attorney.
I looked at my watch which wasn’t there. “Sure, whatever it takes. When were you at the apartment?”
“About an hour ago. Roger called while I was still on the plane, but I wanted to take my luggage home and I knew Chili would be alone”
“Oh, how is she? Did you feed her?”
“Yes I took her out to potty, fed her, and covered her up on the couch. She was snoring when I left. We don’t have much time to come up with something to get you out of here.” He reached through the bars and took my hand. “I don’t think you’ll do well in jail. We need to find something on the tapes to exonerate you. I have my men working on finding out who the man was and why he was so far from home. Roger had information but I want more.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets. “His name was Tony De Grasse. He had on a four thousand dollar suit and thousand dollar pair of shoes. He was from New Jersey. That’s all I know.”
Ryan took the notepad he always carried in his pocket, opened it and read. “Those are the same facts he gave me. Before I left his office he said they found a new Lincoln three blocks from the body. It’s registered to a Dominic De Marco. It was clean as a whistle and had New Jersey plates. Does the name De Marco mean anything to you? ”
I put my fingers on top of his. “First, James is fine and no I‘m not familiar with the name. I’ll mentally go through the last cases we have tackled and see if I remember anyo
ne like you described. Amy might remember something.”
“De Marco runs the biggest crime family in the east.”
Ryan left, within twenty minutes, he was back with James King. James stepped near the barred door with a piece of paper in his hand. “Kate, sign this affidavit. It gives me the right to represent you. It’ll force Roger to turn over all the evidence and I’ll share it with Ryan.”
I reached through the bars, took the paper in one hand, a pen he offered in the other. I walked over to the far wall, used it for a writing surface, and signed my name. As soon as I handed it back to him, he left. I forgot to say thanks.
Ryan stood as close as he could to me and held out his hand. I readily took it. “I called Amy so she wouldn’t worry. She’ll go to the apartment and pick up the dog. Chili will be better off with her and Digger. That way if we get tied up, she won’t be alone. Do you want anything?”
Amy was my best friend and business partner. Digger was her spoiled Yorkie, who she treated like a child. There was a time when I wouldn’t have understood the pet and owner bond.
After a particularly bad case, Ryan bought me the dog. I figured it was so I would be forced to focus on something besides the guilt I had after the case was settled.
“No. I am fine. I need for this to be over.”
James came back with copies of the videos in hand. He gave one to Ryan. Both men promptly left.
I knew Ryan to be a brilliant man, but I couldn’t imagine how he could fix this. There wasn’t anything for me to do but worry and stare at the large office clock on the other side of the room. Officers came and went. No one paid any attention to me; the prisoner in the holding cell at the far corner of the room.
It was my habit when something didn’t go my way, to find a quiet place, close my eyes and try to picture every scene of the event like a slide show. There was a lot of noise in the police station, but it was all I had. I went back in my mind to cases six months old and followed my interactions up to the last week. I came up empty.
Roger brought me a latte and a bagel with cream cheese. I smiled my biggest and most sincere smile. I had this breakfast almost every day of my life. Finally, something I could feel positive about.
“I looked at today’s docket. It’s a busy one. You’re not on the schedule until about six o’clock tomorrow evening. It’ll give Ryan more time to try to find a loophole in this. You know, Kate̶…?
I stopped him. “Yes Roger. I know you’re doing your job. I’ll have to hope the system works in my favor.” I sipped my latte.
“It’s perplexing. The woman on the tape looks like you. I don’t doubt you, but it’s pretty incriminating.” He stopped talking when Amy walked up and stood beside him.
“Hi, Kate. Are you okay? Ryan filled me in. It doesn’t seem possible. Maybe you have a doppelganger.”
Roger nodded to both of us and walked toward his office.
I munched on the bagel. “I’m not familiar with the term, what is it?”
“It’s your double. They say everybody has one. If I have one, I hope she isn’t a criminal.” She raised a bag so I could see it. “Where’d you get the food? I have the same thing for you right here.”
“Roger brought it, but I’ll take more. It sounds like I’ll be here a long time. I need to pee so badly, but I refuse to go. I might as well be in the lobby at Union Station.” I looked around. There were at least eight people roaming around the room. No one paid any attention to me, but they could at any minute. “This is horrible.”
Amy opened her coat as wide as it would go and put her back to the bars. “Go ahead. I’ll shield you from prying eyes.”
I smiled a little. “Thanks. How embarrassing, one of the things that always kept me from being a crook; no privacy.” There was a small sink with a soap dispenser next to it. I scrubbed my hands, but the paper towel holder was empty so I dried them on my jeans. “Why are you here? I thought you would be home with our puppies.”
Amy reached for the camera we used in our work. “I was. Ryan called. He needs pictures of both your hands from every angle. He wants me to take close-ups.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “He didn’t say. He told me what pictures he wanted and where he wanted me to take them to get them developed. Silver Screen Photo is waiting for me now. The tech is to blow them up as large as possible. One of his men will meet me there to pick them up.”
I stuck my hands through the bars. She took a dozen pictures of each of them.
I shook my head. “So, Ryan didn’t give you a clue about what he has in mind?”
She winked at me. “No, but I do know if there’s some way we can get you out of here, we will. You hang on and don’t worry about anything. I moved our appointment with the theft lady from this afternoon to a week from Tuesday.”
I smiled at her. There was really nothing more to say. I’d forgotten about the case we had the next afternoon.
The rest of the night, I lay on the small cot in the cell. It had a cold plastic covering, no sheet, no pillow, and no blanket.
CHAPTER 3
T he courtroom was as packed as a can of expensive sardines. The seats from the center to the railing were filled with petty criminals, drug dealers, and juveniles who waited for arraignment. To the left were lawyers, and to my surprise, reporters filled the gallery in the back of the room. I looked around to see who warranted the press. It didn’t take but a moment to realize I was the person of interest. I didn’t see Ryan, Amy, or my attorney.
In all fairness, I was the girlfriend of Ryan Meade one of St. Louis’s rich and elite. Only a couple of people had made the papers more than him and me. We made front-page news last year when we uncovered the mystery of a triple homicide and kidnapping. The media kept that story alive day after day for more than a month. They hungered for more.
Ryan and his group walked in and reporters shouted questions. The judge banged his gavel on the desk a few times and screamed something about clearing the courtroom. It got quiet again.
I sat and stared straight ahead. I had to sit forward without the comfort of the back of the chair because of the handcuffs. They held my wrists securely behind me.
Each case only took minutes. The judge listened, fined, sentenced, set court dates, and shook his head in disgust. He handled ten to fifteen cases in half-an-hour. Only one case had been dismissed. It seemed hopeless.
When the bailiff called my name, I tried my best to stand. As short as I was, there was no room to get my feet under me. I need not have worried. A guard walked over and helped me to my feet. He unfastened the cuffs and redid them so my hands were in front of me.
Jim King came through the gate at the front at the same time as I did. He took my arm and led me to a table on the other side. It separated the defendants who waited from those who were next. We didn’t sit.
“Kathleen Madison Nash?” The judge looked around the courtroom as if he didn’t see us while we stood directly in front of him.
“She is here, Your Honor.”
The judge looked up. “One count of second-degree manslaughter, one count assault with a deadly weapon, one count of unlawful use of a firearm, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty.” My lawyer answered for me.
The judge tilted his head down and looked at us over the top of his half glasses. “The defendant needs to speak for herself, Counselor.”
“Not guilty,” I affirmed in my loudest voice. If the judge thought it was an act of rebellion, he didn’t say.
“Well, Mr. King. We don’t see you down here often, did you get bored or are you slumming? Careful you don’t get your shoes dirty.” He paused. When he didn’t get a reaction, he continued. “The State is asking one million dollars bail and for Mrs. Nash to surrender her passport.”
“Judge, we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mrs. Nash was not the person who perpetrated this crime.” Before Jim finished his sentence, the roar in the courtroom thundered.
His Honor hammered on the
table again. “This is not a trial, Mr. King. You can’t present evidence in my court. The one and only issue here is should Mrs. Nash be allowed to go free on bond until her court date.”
“Kate, sorry, Kathleen, is not a flight risk and is a pillar of the community. She’s a business owner and a well thought of member of St. Louis society,” Jim asserted.
“Even more troubling, Counselor. Do you carry a weapon in your profession, Mrs. Nash?”
I shook my head yes.
“I can’t hear you. The defendant needs to speak up.”
My face flushed. The heat started in my toes and skyrocketed to my head. “Yes, sir, I do indeed carry a weapon,” I answered in a sharp, clear voice.
He slammed the mallet on the top of the desk once and announced. “I’m ready to rule. Bail is set at one million dollars, cash or bond. The defendant will relinquish her gun, her Private Investigation License, as well as her passport until this matter is settled. This defendant will be held in the County Jail.”
“Judge, you’re tying Mrs. Nash’s hands and making it impossible for her to make a living.” A murmur passed through the crowd.
“Take it or leave it, Mr. King. My first inclination was no bail, so you’re a lucky man. Next case: Darrell James Simpson.”
He was done with us.
CHAPTER 4
T hey ushered me out a side door. It didn’t look good. It meant I needed to go through central booking and lock-up at the county jail.
Once I became a prisoner, things would move at a snail’s pace. No telling how long before I could see or talk to anyone. Jeez. What a mess.
I need not have worried. I didn’t get as far as the transport van before Ryan showed up with all the paperwork to free me. I heard a guard tell him to go on to the jail. We would be there soon and if the paperwork was in order they would let me go.