Stacey turned on more lights and Randolph told his partner and Stacey to stay back so they wouldn’t contaminate the crime scene. The back door opened into the kitchen and Stacey waited at the entrance to the kitchen area. Glass littered the floor near the door. Randolph skirted it and examined the door.
“Was the intruder bare-handed or wearing gloves?” he asked.
“Gloves.”
“That means we won’t get prints,” Randolph said. “I’ll write a report and have one of the lab techs come out in the morning. I can have someone take a look around tomorrow. It’s too dark to find any footprints now. But I’ll be honest. I don’t have much hope that we’ll get anyone for this. It was probably some kid. Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
Stacey had met some of Glen’s friends but she didn’t feel she knew them well enough to impose by asking to stay with them.
“No, I’ll be okay. I don’t think the person will come back. I’ll probably just stay up until it’s light.”
“Tell you what,” Randolph said. “We’ll cruise by every once in a while until morning, but you’re right, I doubt he’ll come back.”
The officers left fifteen minutes later and Stacey made a decision. She was certain that Glen would rush back if she told him what had happened and she didn’t want to interfere with his work. But she couldn’t stay alone in the house, either. The person who had tried to break in was no kid. Staying by herself in Palisades Heights was out of the question and she had just thought of a place she could go until Glen was back. Stacey booted up her laptop and figured out how to drive to Arlington, California.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Stacey started her trip down the coast before the sun rose, stopping only for a quick lunch. A few times during the drive she thought she saw a dark car following her. The car was so far back she couldn’t identify the make and there were times when she wasn’t sure it was the same car. She decided that lack of sleep and her terrifying experience were making her paranoid.
Arlington was a beach town for the very rich, and its resorts and hotels were way out of Stacey’s price range, so she settled for a motel in Graves Point, ten miles farther south. After checking in and unpacking, Stacey drove back to Arlington. She noticed the differences between the California resort and Palisades Heights immediately. There were millionaires with homes in Palisades Heights, but almost everyone with a house near the beach in Arlington was very wealthy, and while the businesses on Ocean Avenue catered to the middle class, the boutiques, jewelry stores, and upscale restaurants on the streets that led to the ocean in Arlington attracted a clientele that never had to count pennies.
The Arlington Examiner started publishing in 1947, and its offices were four blocks inland in a two-story brick building. Stacey told the receptionist that she was doing research for a novel and asked if back issues of the newspaper were available. The receptionist told her that all issues of the paper had been scanned into a computer and Stacey could access the files in the library on the second floor.
According to Jack Booth, Kathy Moran’s parents had died when Kathy was in junior high school so Stacey figured that she would have been between twelve and fifteen years old when they passed away. An hour after she started scrolling through the back issues, a story caught Stacey’s eye. Arlington residents Theodore and Marjorie Cromwell had been murdered during a home burglary. The Cromwells’ twelve-year-old daughter had returned home from a sleepover at a friend’s house and discovered their bodies. The daughter was named Katherine.
Stacey shuddered as she remembered how she had felt when she saw Megan Cahill’s corpse. She tried to imagine how much more horrifying it must have been for a twelve-year-old to discover the bodies of both of her parents.
Stacey ran a search for stories about the Cromwells. Theodore’s obituary said that his grandfather had started a business that had supplied uniforms to the armed forces during World War One and had then used the profits to diversify into other basic industries. Theodore was a lawyer who had served as counsel to several of the businesses. He had moved to California to oversee a West Coach branch of the original company that was manufacturing sportswear and had settled in Arlington. One line in the obituary caught Stacey’s attention. Cromwell had been a well-known collector, but the obituary writer had not gone into detail.
Stacey was about to search for more information about Cromwells’ collection when the receptionist told her that it was five o’clock and the offices were closing. Stacey had been so focused that she only realized how exhausted she was when she stood up and swayed for a second. She decided to eat on the pier, then head back to her motel to catch up on her sleep.
The weather was balmy and the streets of Arlington were bustling. Stacey paused to window-shop and dropped into a bookstore to pick up a paperback novel. The receptionist at the newspaper office had recommended an Italian restaurant that sounded nice. The hostess seated Stacey outside where she had a view of fat seals frolicking under one of the piers that jutted out into the Pacific. Stacey ordered, then started reading her book. The intriguing plot coupled with the excellent meal and the view provided enough distractions to make her forget about the Cahill case during dinner. Stacey made the mistake of having a glass of wine. Lack of sleep and the soothing effect of the Chianti made her a little tipsy.
During the drive to her motel, thoughts of Kathy Moran and Woman with a Gun flooded back. If she hadn’t been distracted, Stacey might have sensed that something was wrong when she opened the door to her room. She took a step inside and a figure in black rushed at her and buried a knife in her chest. Stacey was too shocked to scream but an adrenaline-fueled reflex shot out a foot that connected with the attacker’s kneecap. Stacey staggered out of her room and lurched toward the motel office while her attacker struggled to stand. Moments later, Stacey collapsed in the crowded lobby and managed to cry, “Help me!” before she blacked out.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The door to Stacey’s hospital room opened and a barrel-chested man walked in. He had curly red hair, a pale freckled face, and green eyes and he was wearing a tan sports jacket over a black T-shirt and gray slacks. When he was next to Stacey’s bed he held up a badge.
“Good afternoon, Miss Kim. I’m Detective John Coleman and I’m investigating your case. Do you feel up to talking about what happened at the motel?”
“I’m still a little woozy from the painkillers but we can talk.”
“It sounds like you had a close call.”
Stacey flashed on the attack and her eyes began to tear.
“Sorry,” she said.
“You have no reason to apologize. I know cops who’ve been attacked. These are very brave, trained men and women, and they’re all shaky after something like this.”
“The knife just missed my heart,” Stacey said. She sounded subdued. “The doctor said I’m lucky. He said I’ll be as good as new when everything heals up. But I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to worry. There’s going to be a policeman outside your door twenty-four/seven. And once you tell me who did this I’ll lock them up and make sure you’re never in danger again.”
“Thank you.”
Coleman pulled a chair over and sat next to Stacey’s bed. The nurse had cranked it up and Stacey was sitting.
“I know you must be exhausted,” the detective said, “so why don’t we get right to it? And please tell me if you need a break. First, did you get a good look at the person who stabbed you?”
Before Stacey could answer Glen Kraft walked in. Coleman stood up quickly and placed himself between Glen and Stacey.
“I’m a detective and I’m conducting an interview with Miss Kim. You can’t come in here.”
“Wait,” Stacey said. “Glen should stay. He knows the history of the Cahill case much better than I do. He should be the one to tell you about it.”
“What is the Cahill case?” Coleman asked.
“Raymond Cahill was murdered ten years ago. That’s why I was atta
cked.”
“I’ve never heard of Raymond Cahill or the Cahill case,” Coleman said.
“Neither had I until I saw the photograph.”
Detective Coleman sat beside Stacey’s hospital bed, listening intently and taking notes while Stacey and Glen told him about the murders in Palisades Heights.
“So you think Kathy Moran stabbed you?” Coleman asked when Stacey finished.
Stacey hesitated. She was certain that Kathy Moran had tried to kill her, but. . . .
“No, I couldn’t swear that Miss Moran attacked me. There were no lights on in the room and the person who stabbed me was dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, just like the person who tried to break into Glen’s house in Palisades Heights. But who else could it be?”
Coleman rested his pencil on his notebook. “It could be anyone.”
“What about the fact that Moran and Raymond Cahill both lived in Arlington?” Glen said.
“That hardly establishes proof beyond a reasonable doubt that Moran stabbed your friend. I had a forensic team go through your motel room and they haven’t found any evidence I can use to arrest anyone for the attack. I can see why you would think Miss Moran is involved, but I can’t arrest her based on a theory that’s not supported by hard evidence.”
Stacey was quiet for a moment. Then she got an idea.
“The doctors said that I’ll be here recuperating for a few days. Could you bring me the file on the Cromwell murders?”
Detective Coleman hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled.
“Sure, why not? It’s a cold case, and maybe you’ll be able to dig up something. You certainly have a good imagination.”
“Thanks. Even if I don’t find anything, it will give me something to do.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so negative,” the detective said.
“No, you’re right. You can’t arrest Kathy based on my feelings.”
“I’ll write up a report on the attack at the motel and give you a copy. Show it to Chief Melendez and tell him what you told me. No one looked at Moran before. Maybe he’ll figure something out if he focuses on her.”
The detective left and Glen took Stacey’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re going to be okay. When I heard you’d been stabbed . . .”
He choked up for a moment and Stacey squeezed his hand.
“And the attempted break-in must have been terrifying,” Glen said when he’d recovered his composure. “You should have called me. I would have come back.”
“I thought about it, but there wasn’t anything you could have done, and I didn’t want to interfere with your work.”
Glen stared directly into Stacey’s eyes. “I love you, Stacey. I really love you. You’re the most important thing in my life and the thought that I could have lost you . . .”
Stacey teared up. “I love you, too. That’s what I thought about when I came to after the operation. That I could have died and we would never . . .”
She stopped. Glen leaned over and kissed her.
“Ouch,” Stacey yelped.
Glen reared back and reddened. “Sorry.”
Stacey laughed. “Don’t be. It was worth it.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“The smoking gun” is a metaphor for a piece of incriminating evidence that seals a criminal’s fate. In the Cahill case the evidence was quite literally a gun, although it wasn’t technically a “smoking gun,” because it didn’t provide enough evidence to arrest Kathy Moran. In the old case file, Stacey found a list of things that had been stolen from Theodore Cromwell’s collection. One item was a Schofield .44 Smith & Wesson revolver rumored to have been wielded by Wyatt Earp during the Gunfight at the OK Corral.
“This is just like the robbery-murder in Palisades Heights,” Glen said as soon as Stacey told him about the Schofield.
“And it raises two interesting questions. Is the gun that was stolen from Theodore Cromwell and the gun that was used to murder Raymond Cahill the same weapon? If it is, how did Raymond Cahill come into possession of Theodore Cromwell’s Schofield?”
“Remember my suggestion for your book?” Glen said.
“That Cahill bought the revolver from the person who stole it?”
Glen nodded. “Well, I just thought of another scenario. What if Cahill murdered the Cromwells and stole the gun? Is there anything in the reports about Cahill?”
“I haven’t seen anything yet.”
“We should ask Detective Coleman if Cahill’s name ever came up in the investigation.”
John Coleman opened the door to Stacey’s hospital room and walked in with a man dressed in running shoes, jeans, and a kelly green short-sleeve shirt. Stacey put the newcomer’s age at the late sixties because of his thinning gray hair and the wrinkles on his suntanned face, but the man was solidly built and it didn’t look like he’d given in to old age easily.
“This is Lynn Merritt,” Coleman said. “He retired from the Arlington Police Department five years ago and he’s one of the detectives who investigated the Cromwell murders.”
“Thank you for coming,” Stacey said.
“There was no way I wouldn’t, after John told me about the murders in Oregon and what you’d uncovered. The Cromwell case was one of my first as a detective and one of the few we never solved. How can I help you?”
“The woman I suspect in the Oregon murders is named Kathy Moran. Katherine is the name of the Cromwells’ daughter. Do you know if they’re the same woman?”
“I do. Katherine was a witness, so I had to keep tabs on her whereabouts in case there was ever a trial. She moved to Montana and was raised by an aunt named Selma Moran.”
“Yes!” Stacey said as she broke into a grin. The men in the room couldn’t help smiling.
“What’s your next question?” Merritt asked.
“It would be an amazing coincidence if the gun that was used to murder Raymond Cahill and the gun that was stolen from Theodore Cromwell were two separate weapons, especially since Cahill and Cromwell lived in the same town and were both collectors. Did Raymond Cahill’s name ever come up in your investigation?”
“Yes. Cromwell and Cahill were very serious collectors and occasional rivals for specific items. They were both members of the Arlington Country Club and a few of the other members heard them argue a couple of months before the Cromwells were murdered.
“When I interviewed Cahill he denied they’d argued. He told me that he outbid Cromwell for a rare coin. Cromwell offered to buy it, but Cahill said he didn’t want to sell and Cromwell got upset because he needed the coin for his collection.”
“Did you investigate Cahill at all?”
“I didn’t put a lot of time in on him, but the people I talked to said he wasn’t well liked. They felt that he’d made his money too fast and was full of himself. Ruthless was a word I heard a lot. If he wanted something he went full bore and wasn’t concerned about who got hurt.”
“Was he a suspect because of the theft of valuable items from Cromwell’s collection?”
“Not really. We discussed the possibility but no one thought it was worth pursuing.”
“What do you think now, knowing that there’s a good chance that Cahill was in possession of the stolen Schofield?” Stacey asked.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“What happened to you?” George Melendez asked when Glen helped Stacey into the police chief’s office and eased her onto a chair.
“You know that someone tried to break into my house while Stacey was there alone?”
Melendez nodded.
“Stacey was afraid to stay by herself, so she drove to Arlington, California, to look into Kathy Moran’s background. That’s where Moran grew up. While she was there, someone stabbed her.”
“What?!”
“Kathy Moran’s last name used to be Cromwell,” Stacey said. “When she was twelve she was living with her parents, Theodore and Marjorie Cromwell, in Arlington, California. The Cromwells were murdered during a burglary and Kathy discover
ed the bodies.
“Raymond Cahill was living in Arlington, California, when the Cromwells were killed. Cahill and Theodore Cromwell were serious collectors and competitors at times for various valuable items. One item stolen during the robbery-murder was a Schofield .44 Smith and Wesson revolver believed to have been used by Wyatt Earp during the Gunfight at the OK Corral, the same type of rare antique that was used to murder Raymond Cahill.”
“Is it the same gun?”
“I don’t know. If it is, Kathy had one hell of a motive to kill Cahill with it.”
“You think Kathy Moran killed Cahill to avenge her parents?” Melendez asked. He sounded incredulous.
“Shortly before the Cahills’ wedding, Kathy took photographs for an article about the Cahills that appeared in the Palisades Heights Gazette. Raymond showed the reporter who wrote the article some of the highlights of his collection, including the Schofield. Kathy took a photograph of the revolver that was printed in the paper. If she thought that Cahill stole the Schofield from her father it would explain why she used that gun to kill Cahill. It also explains why none of the items stolen from Cahill’s collection have surfaced.”
“How does it do that?”
“Everyone assumed that greed was the motive behind Raymond Cahill’s murder. If the motive was revenge, Kathy would have gotten rid of the items from the collection so they couldn’t be tied to her.”
“Okay, I follow you, but why would she murder Megan Cahill ten years later?”
“I don’t know, but it would have been simple for Kathy to run down the beach from her house to Megan’s place without being seen. Another thing, if she was working with Parnell Crouse it makes you wonder if she was really just taking pictures for a show when she saw Megan on the beach and snapped Woman with a Gun or if she was going to the Cahills’ house to help Crouse kill Raymond Cahill.”
“Do you have any proof that Kathy knew Crouse?” the police chief asked.
Woman With a Gun_A Novel Page 20