Woman With a Gun_A Novel

by Phillip Margolin

“No, but I’ve been thinking about that. Her law school at Berkeley isn’t far from the Oakland Raiders stadium.”

  “This seems pretty flimsy to me.”

  “You’re forgetting that someone tried to murder Stacey,” Glen said.

  Melendez looked at Stacey. “Could you identify the person who stabbed you?”

  “No. I was staying at a motel. Someone was in my room. The lights were off and I was stabbed as soon as I opened the door. The person who attacked me was dressed in black and wearing a ski mask. And everything happened very fast.”

  “Was the person who tried to break in the same person who stabbed you?”

  “I can’t swear they were the same person.”

  “What do you want me to do, Stacey?” Melendez asked.

  “I . . . I guess I want you to investigate Kathy Moran to see if she killed Raymond and Megan Cahill and Parnell Crouse and tried to kill me.”

  “I’ll think about what you said, but there are some real problems with reopening the investigation. You can’t swear Kathy tried to kill you, can you?”

  “No.”

  “All of the evidence points to Parnell Crouse as the person who murdered Raymond Cahill. Unless we can establish a connection between Kathy and Parnell Crouse that’s more convincing than this Berkeley thing, I don’t see how you can tie Kathy to that murder.”

  “You can try to find out if Kathy has an alibi for the time Crouse was murdered. Grady Cox should be able to tell you if Kathy showed up for her shift after Jack Booth finished interviewing her at the police station.”

  “You still haven’t explained why Kathy would kill Megan Cahill—someone she barely knew—ten years after Ray’s murder. If she was going to kill Megan, why not do it when she killed Ray?”

  “I didn’t convince him,” Stacey said as she limped to Glen’s car.

  “He’s definitely skeptical. But that doesn’t mean he won’t follow up by talking to Cox and reviewing the evidence to see if he missed something because Moran was never the focus of his investigation.”

  Stacey sighed. “He won’t find anything. She covered her tracks too well.”

  “I think it’s time for you to focus on your book and leave the police work to the police.”

  “I will,” she agreed dejectedly.

  Glen put his arms around Stacey and pulled her to him gently so as not to aggravate her wound.

  “I love you and I can’t bear to see you hurt. Stick to fictional crimes and let the police handle the real stuff so you can stay safe.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Jack Booth was working on a trial memorandum in a construction case when his secretary told him that Kathy Moran was calling. When they spoke at the gallery opening Kathy had been pretty clear that they weren’t going to have a relationship so he wondered what she wanted.

  “I need your help, Jack,” Kathy said as soon as they were connected.

  “What kind of help?”

  “I need a very good lawyer.”

  “Why?”

  “They think I killed Megan and Ray Cahill.”

  “Who thinks you killed the Cahills?”

  “George Melendez and Gayle Sutcliff, the district attorney. I flew back from New York yesterday and they showed up at my house this morning. They wanted to know where I was when Megan was killed and if I worked on the evening Parnell Crouse was killed.”

  “They think you killed Crouse, too?”

  “I don’t know what they’re thinking. But I’m certain that little bitch you’re so fond of is behind this.”

  “Who?”

  “Stacey Kim. I think she’s convinced George and Gayle that I’m a mass murderer.”

  “Why do you think Stacey Kim has something to do with George’s investigation?”

  “She’s been prying into my private life. She asked you about my childhood, and Grady Cox told me she asked him if I worked at the Seafarer the night Parnell Crouse was killed. I’m sure Kim is spreading rumors about me and I want it stopped.”

  “What did you say to Melendez and the DA when they asked you about the murders?”

  “I’m not stupid. I did what I always advised my clients to do—I said absolutely nothing.”

  “Why are you calling me?”

  “I want you to come down here. I want you to tell George and Gayle and that little bitch that I’ll sue everyone who is part of this witch hunt if they don’t get off my back.”

  “You know you can’t sue the police and the DA if they’re investigating you in good faith. Do you have any reason to believe either George or the DA have a personal reason to go after you?”

  “Maybe that cunt is screwing Melendez.”

  “Come on, Kathy. Use your head.”

  Jack heard Kathy expel a breath. When she spoke again she sounded contrite.

  “I’m sorry, but this is so unfair. I didn’t kill Megan. I barely knew her or Raymond Cahill. If you don’t count finding her on the beach, the dinner I had with Megan before the gallery opening was the first time I’d spent any time with her. What possible reason would I have to kill her?”

  “Why don’t I drive down and talk to George and the DA?”

  “That would be great. My career wasn’t going so well until the MoMA show. Now it’s just starting to get off the ground again and I don’t need this.”

  “I’ve got to wrap up some stuff but I can get down to Palisades Heights tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Jack. What will I owe you?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Come on. I don’t expect you to work for free.”

  “I’ll pick a very expensive restaurant. And don’t worry. If you really need me I’ll expect a retainer. But I won’t know if you’re in real trouble until I talk to Melendez.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  “Hi, George,” Jack said when he was ushered into the police chief’s office.

  “Back in town so soon?” asked Melendez.

  “It’s business, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  “You really upset Kathy Moran and she wants to know why.”

  “Why would she be upset?”

  “Come on, George. She told me that you practically accused her of killing Megan and Ray Cahill and Parnell Crouse. I’d be upset if you accused me of being a serial killer.”

  “I never accused her of anything, Jack. I just asked her to clarify some issues that have come up recently. But the fact that she’s hired a high-powered Portland lawyer is interesting.”

  “Can we stop playing games and will you tell me why the sudden interest in Kathy after ten years?”

  “Look, Jack, I hope that I’m completely off base but I recently learned some very unsettling information.”

  “Such as?”

  “Did you know that Raymond Cahill and Kathy’s parents all lived in Arlington, California, when Kathy was twelve?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they did. Kathy’s father was a collector and he and Kathy’s mom were murdered during a home burglary. One of the items stolen during the burglary was a .44 Schofield Smith and Wesson that may have been used by Wyatt Earp during the Gunfight at the OK Corral.”

  It took all of Jack’s training as a trial lawyer to keep from reacting.

  “It’s also possible that Kathy Moran knew Parnell Crouse. She was in Berkeley at law school when he played for the Raiders nearby in Oakland.”

  “That’s a stretch, George. Do you have solid evidence that they knew each other?”

  “Not yet. But I’m taking a hard look at this case again since someone tried to murder Stacey Kim.”

  “What?”

  “Stacey has been living with Glen Kraft. A week ago, Glen was in Eugene on business and Stacey was staying by herself. Someone tried to break into their house. Stacey scared off the intruder but she said that the intruder had a knife. Stacey was afraid to stay alone in Glen’s house so she drove to Arlington to look into Kathy’s childhood. She thought she saw a car following her from Oregon.r />
  “Stacey conducted her research at the local newspaper office, had dinner, and returned to her motel. Someone was waiting in her room and stabbed her when she opened the door. She can’t swear it was the person who tried to break into Glen’s house but they were dressed the same.”

  “Is Stacey okay?”

  “She was lucky. She’s recovering nicely but she’s scared to death and I don’t blame her. As soon as she came back to town she filled me in on everything she’d discovered, including the fact that a Schofield was stolen from Theodore Cromwell’s collection when he was murdered.”

  “Stacey interviewed me for her book and I got the impression that she’s a good kid, but you don’t have any basis for charging Kathy with Raymond Cahill’s murder unless you can establish a connection between Kathy and Parnell Crouse that’s more convincing than this Berkeley thing. No jury is going to convict Kathy of murder unless you can show she was in touch with him near the time Cahill was killed.”

  “You’re probably right about that. But here’s the thing: I tried to find out if Kathy has an alibi for the time Crouse was murdered. Grady Cox can’t remember if Kathy showed up for her shift after you finished interviewing her at the police station.”

  “Which isn’t surprising after ten years,” Jack said.

  “True, but a spectacular murder like that and Kathy being a witness . . . We hardly ever get a serious violent crime here, and that murder got national coverage. If Kathy went to work, it would be natural for her to tell Grady what happened and you’d think Grady would remember that night.”

  “It’s still ten years ago.”

  “Even so.” Melendez shrugged. “And Grady says he can’t find any pay records for that night, so Kathy doesn’t have a real good alibi for the time Crouse was killed. If she’d talk to me she might be able to prove she was working when Crouse was killed. That would be really helpful.”

  “Look, George, I feel very bad about what happened to Stacey. But novelists have vivid imaginations and I think you’re putting too much stock in hers.”

  “Maybe, but you should think twice about representing Kathy. You were part of the prosecution team when Raymond Cahill and Parnell Crouse were killed, so you may have a conflict.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Kathy chose a restaurant in a town several miles down the coast from Palisades Heights where they were less likely to be seen. She asked for a booth in the back. As soon as they ordered drinks, Jack told Kathy what the police chief had told him.

  “Someone actually tried to murder Stacey Kim?” Kathy asked.

  “After trying to break into her house. So you can see why George is taking this seriously.”

  “Sure, but everything rests on me knowing about the revolver, and I didn’t. I was twelve when my parents were murdered. I was interested in boys, clothes, and music, not my father’s antiques. I had no idea he owned Wyatt Earp’s gun until George told me.”

  “It must have been horrible for you, having your parents die like that, then discovering the bodies.”

  Kathy looked down at the tabletop. “You have no idea. I went completely off the rails.”

  “What happened?”

  “The only relative willing to take me in was Selma Moran, my aunt. She was a widow who lived in Sweet Prairie, Montana, a town that was as different from Arlington as Arlington is from the moon. I was still in shock when she moved me there and I hated everything about the place. I made my aunt’s life hell.

  “When I was fourteen I started running with a group of older kids. They were into drugs, burglary. My luck ran out finally and I was arrested in a house we’d broken into to get money for drugs. My aunt stood by me and the lawyer she hired arranged to get me into treatment so I could avoid a criminal record.

  “The last straw was when I got pregnant in the summer before high school. My aunt was pretty progressive, and she arranged for an abortion, but she made it very clear that she was through with me unless I got my act together. When I started high school I made a real effort to walk the straight and narrow. My grades went way up, I stayed away from drugs and my old friends. Just before I left for college I changed my last name to Moran as a thank-you to my aunt and, symbolically I guess, to signal that I was starting a new life.”

  “I had no idea you had it so bad.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s all in the past and I want the bad times to stay there. That’s why I need your help. I’m sorry Stacey Kim was stabbed, but that doesn’t give her the right to accuse me of murder. Can you nip this in the bud?”

  “There’s nothing I can do to stop George from investigating.”

  “Let him investigate all he wants. He’s not going to be able to prove I killed anyone because I didn’t.”

  The waitress brought their drinks. “I don’t need this in my life right now,” Kathy said when the waitress left.

  “There’s something else we have to discuss,” Jack said. “George pointed out that I may have a conflict that would prevent me from representing you.”

  “What kind of conflict?”

  “I was part of the prosecution team when Crouse and Raymond Cahill were murdered.”

  “That’s outrageous. He’s just trying to stop you from being my lawyer because he knows that no one on the DA’s staff would have a chance against you in trial.”

  “I’ll check with the bar, but I am concerned. I wanted you to know that you’ll have to find another attorney if there really is a conflict.”

  Kathy reached out and covered Jack’s hand. “Don’t desert me, Jack. I need you.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  Jack’s attraction to Kathy was intense, and her touch and the intimacy of the situation were unsettling. Kathy didn’t take her hand away. She looked into Jack’s eyes. He felt a knot in his stomach and a stirring below that he fought to control.

  “Let’s forget about dinner,” Kathy said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Are you sure?” Jack asked.

  Kathy let go of Jack’s hand and opened her purse. Her eyes never left his as she pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and laid it on the table.

  “Take me home, Jack.”

  Kathy rolled on top of Jack and draped a leg over his. Jack was slick with sweat and short of breath. Kathy ran a finger across his chest, feather light, just grazing his nipple.

  “What was I thinking?” Kathy said. “We’ve wasted so much time.”

  Jack didn’t answer. He was too spent to speak. He had waited fifteen years for this moment and it was everything he’d ever dreamed of and more. He touched Kathy’s cheek. Then they kissed and Jack rolled over so that their bodies were touching. After what seemed like endless moments’ kissing and stroking, Kathy’s fingers strayed between his legs and Jack groaned. He returned the favor and they began to move together, both panting and straining until Jack couldn’t stand any more. He rolled Kathy onto her back and pushed inside her. His eyes closed, his breath came faster, and moments later he left behind his last rational thought.

  They rested, then they made love again, then Kathy drifted off to sleep. It took Jack a while to nod off, then he tossed and turned because he was having a really bad dream. He was wandering through an art gallery and the exhibit was a collection of horrible photographs of crime scenes and autopsies. Everywhere he looked, he saw eviscerated torsos, severed limbs, and hideous head wounds. The worst part of the head shots were the dead eyes that followed him when he walked by. One head was particularly disturbing. There was a gruesome entry wound in the temple and its mouth kept opening and closing, as if it were trying to tell him something. Dream Jack was compelled to lean toward the corpse’s bloodstained and shredded lips in order to hear what it was saying.

  Live Jack’s eyes opened wide. His heart was beating rapidly. He was certain that his dream had something to do with the reason Megan Cahill had fled the gallery. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His subconscious had tried to tell him
something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was trying to say. It had tugged at the corners of his mind while he slept, and now that he was awake, it was staying just out of sight, drifting away like morning mist whenever he thought he might grasp it.

  Jack looked at the clock and saw that it was six thirty. Kathy was deep in sleep and Jack slipped out of bed and dressed quietly. Then he drove back to his motel and showered. A little after seven thirty Jack knocked on Kathy’s front door. She was barefoot, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and no bra. She looked incredibly sexy sleepy-eyed with her hair tousled. Jack had stopped at a bakery and held out two cups of coffee and a paper bag that contained two croissants.

  “I wondered where you’d gone,” Kathy said as she stood aside to let Jack in. Jack walked out on the deck and set down the paper cups and the bag.

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was too worked up.”

  “Good,” Kathy said with a smile.

  “You were dead to the world.”

  “The sleep of the innocent,” she joked. “Too bad that’s not admissible evidence.”

  Jack laughed. “I don’t think you have to worry. I’ve thought about everything George told me. He’s nowhere near making a case that can be submitted to a grand jury.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  Jack took another bite of his croissant and a sip of his coffee while he stared out at the ocean. The sun was warm, the sea was calm, and Jack thought he could sit on this deck with Kathy by his side forever. Then he sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Kathy asked.

  “Life. I have to head back to Portland to take a deposition when all I really want is to sit here with you.”

  Kathy smiled. “What a nice thing to say.”

  “I can drive out again on the weekend,” Jack said.

  “That would be wonderful, but I’m going to East Africa for two weeks on a photo shoot for a fashion magazine.”

  Jack couldn’t hide his disappointment. Kathy laughed again.

  “Don’t look so sad. I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me. I’ll get in touch as soon as I’m back.”

  Jack broke into a grin.