Woman with a Gun

by Phillip Margolin

  “Was it?” Jack asked.

  “Ray never showed me conclusive evidence to substantiate his belief.”

  “Are you surprised that the gun worked?”

  “No. Ray kept it in pristine condition in one of the glass cases that was broken into. He liked to display the type of bullets that would have been used in the gun in the case with the Schofield. The killer only had to load it.”

  “Have you been able to get anything out of Mrs. Cahill?” Jack asked Winston.

  “No. I talked to her doctors. She’s awake but she says she can’t remember what happened. She suffered a vicious blow to the head and that could account for her amnesia.”

  “Did you find any gunshot residue on Mrs. Cahill’s hands?” Jack asked.

  “No. She was rushed to the hospital and no one thought to test her. And the fact that there’s no gunshot residue is not conclusive anyway,” Winston answered. “You don’t always find GSR on the hands of someone, even when you know for a fact that they fired a weapon.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment. Then he turned to the curator.

  “Can you tell us a little about the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Cahill?”

  “Not really. They didn’t start dating until I’d known Ray for quite a while. I knew him because of my work with his collection. I’ve only met Mrs. Cahill a few times, and that was just to say hello when I was at his place in California. But I never saw anything that made me think they weren’t getting along.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “Parnell Crouse was a running back who played for the Oakland Raiders. Then he had a serious knee injury and several concussions. The injuries ended his career. As I understand it, Mrs. Cahill filed for divorce soon after Crouse was cut from the team. She had Crouse arrested for domestic abuse; there was a restraining order, allegations of ’roid rage. Ray was a minority owner of the Oakland Raiders. From what I heard, Ray and Mrs. Cahill met at a team party. He was also recently divorced.”

  Janowitz smiled. He looked embarrassed. “I should make it clear that almost none of what I told you is firsthand knowledge. The divorce was very public, and I got most of what I told you from the gossip columns or stuff I heard at parties.”

  “Do you know if Cahill had enemies? Maybe a rival collector or someone from his business dealings?” Jack asked.

  “I really don’t know much about his business or private life. I deal in antiques, rare coins, stamps. We met when I sold him some stamps from a lot I’d picked up at an estate sale. The work I did on his collection was a side job. We didn’t socialize.”

  “Okay,” Jack said. “Teddy, do you have anything else for Mr. Janowitz?”

  “No,” Winston said.

  “I appreciate your flying up on such short notice, Frank,” the DA told the curator. “What should we do about the rest of the collection?”

  “That’s really Mrs. Cahill’s call,” Janowitz said. “It should be safe in the vault. I’m working on an inventory so you’ll know what was stolen. I’ll talk with Mrs. Cahill when she’s better.”

  Janowitz went back to the den.

  “What are you thinking?” Jack asked when they were alone.

  “The way I see it, we have two possibilities. Raymond Cahill was the victim of a burglar or his wife killed him. I’d go with the burglar.”

  “What if she and the burglar were working together?” Jack said. “She was holding the murder weapon.”

  Winston thought about that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

  “If she killed him, why would she be on the beach?”

  “Working up a story about being attacked.”

  “She wouldn’t have known that Kathy Moran would come by on a photo shoot,” Winston argued.

  “What if she went down to the beach to get rid of the gun but Moran came by before she could ditch it?”

  “What about the blow to her head?” Winston asked. “It sounds like she was hit really hard.”

  “Her accomplice could have done that to make her look like a victim.”

  Winston thought some more. Then he shook his head. “We’re just guessing. Hopefully Mrs. Cahill will clear up our confusion when she remembers what happened.”

  “When am I going to be able to speak to her?” Jack asked.

  “She’s going to be released today.”

  Jack looked alarmed. “Will she be staying in Palisades Heights? I don’t want her skipping to California.”

  “The doctors don’t want her to travel and we’re done with the crime scene, so she’ll be staying here. By the way, she’s hired Henry Baker to represent her. We had a short talk earlier today.”

  “So, Mrs. Cahill thinks she needs a lawyer.”

  “Megan is no dummy. We questioned her about the gun she was holding, she saw that her husband was shot, and she says she can’t remember what happened. You’d probably lawyer up under those circumstances, wouldn’t you?”

  Jack frowned. “Is Baker local?”

  “His office is on Ocean Avenue.”

  “Has he done a lot of criminal defense?”

  “Henry has a general practice. You have to if you want to earn a living out here. His criminal defense experience is limited to DUIIs and minor stuff, but he’s smart.”

  “Has he ever defended a murder case?”

  “I know he won a vehicular homicide in Lincoln County but I don’t think he’s ever been involved in something like this.”

  “I wonder why she hasn’t contacted one of the heavy hitters you were so worried about.”

  “She knows Henry from the country club. I’m guessing that he’s the first name that popped into her head. And she’s been in the hospital since the murder. She wouldn’t have had an opportunity to do any research.”

  Jack nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. When are we talking to her?”

  “We’re going to meet here this afternoon around five.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Megan Cahill was seated at a round glass table under the shade of an umbrella on the deck behind her house, staring at the sea. The cool breeze drifting in from the ocean made the edges of the umbrella sway. Megan didn’t turn when the door to the deck opened, so all Jack could see was the hood of the sweatshirt she was wearing to combat the chill in the air.

  The two men seated at the table with Megan stood when Jack, Winston, and Archie Denning walked onto the deck. Henry Baker, a large man with thinning, sandy blond hair and pale blue eyes, was dressed in a sky blue shirt, yellow tie, and tan suit. The lawyer wasn’t obese but he was sloppy fat with a small gut that lapped over his belt and the beginning of a double chin. When Henry saw the prosecutors and the detective he walked over to them. The young man who was sitting with him followed.

  “Hey, Henry,” Winston said.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Baker. I’m Jack Booth and this is Archie Denning. He’s a detective with the state police and I’m with the Oregon Department of Justice.”

  “The hired gun from the capital,” Henry said with a smile as they shook.

  Jack shrugged. “I’ve been called that before but I’m really here as an adviser.”

  Henry turned to the young man who stood beside him.

  “This is Glen Kraft, my associate. He’s going to be assisting me.”

  Glen was five foot ten with an athletic build. Jack took him for a recent law school graduate because of his full head of wavy brown hair and smooth skin. The young lawyer was wearing a cheap gray suit, a white shirt, and a blue tie with narrow white stripes. He looked very serious. Jack remembered his first murder case and he bet defending a homicide had gotten the young man’s blood racing.

  “Pleased to meet you, Glen,” Jack said.

  “Can we step inside for a moment before you talk to Mrs. Cahill?” Henry asked.

  “Sure,” Winston said.

  “What’s your position on Mrs. Cahill?” Henry asked when they were in the living room.

  “What do you mean?” Winston asked.

 
“Is she a suspect? Are you going to Mirandize her?”

  “Right now I consider Mrs. Cahill to be a victim and a witness,” Winston said hastily.

  “That’s not exactly accurate, Teddy,” Jack interjected. “I consider her to be a person of interest. She was holding the murder weapon when Kathy Moran found her and she’s probably in line to inherit Raymond Cahill’s fortune. So she had the motive, the means, and the opportunity to commit the crime.”

  “She was hit on the head hard enough to give her a concussion, for Christ’s sake,” Henry said.

  Jack shrugged. “If she had an accomplice he could have hit her to take suspicion off of her.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “Look, Mr. Baker, this is early days in the investigation. I’m just throwing out possibilities. I haven’t talked to Mrs. Cahill yet so I have no opinion. If she’s innocent then what happened here is truly horrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a spouse right after you’re married.”

  “It’s been awful for her. So be very gentle when you talk to her.”

  “You have my word,” Jack said.

  They walked back outside and Jack turned his attention to Megan Cahill, who continued to stare out to sea. Jack walked past Henry and stopped in front of her, blocking her view. She looked up at Jack. Megan had an olive complexion, full lips, high cheekbones, and liquid brown eyes. Strands of black hair strayed from the confines of her hood.

  “How are you feeling?” Jack asked.

  Megan didn’t answer right away. Jack had the impression that she had to work to process what he’d just said. Then again, she could be faking.

  Henry hurried over and stood at Megan’s shoulder. “Mrs. Cahill is still feeling the effects of the blow to her head and she tires quickly, so we need to keep this meeting short.”

  There were four chairs set around the table where Megan Cahill was sitting. Jack gestured toward one of them.

  “May I?” he asked the injured woman. Megan stared for a moment before dipping her chin. Jack took the chair next to her. Henry took a chair next to his client and pulled it close to her. Winston took the last chair and Glen stood behind his boss while Denning stood off to the side where he could see Megan’s face.

  “First, let me say how sorry I am,” Jack said. “I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I want you to know that we are going to try our hardest to find the person who hurt you and your husband.”

  Jack waited for a reaction and he got one when Megan teared up.

  “What do you remember about that evening?” Jack asked.

  Megan shook her head slowly. “I . . . I’ve tried but . . .”

  “My client and I have talked about this, Jack,” Henry said. “Mrs. Cahill remembers the wedding but her last clear memory is getting in their car outside the country club. Megan’s doctor says that this type of short-term memory loss is normal after a serious blow to the head.”

  Jack kept his eyes on Megan’s face. “So you have no memory of what happened after you came home?” He asked.

  “No,” she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “The doctors say that her memory should return, but they can’t say how soon,” Henry said.

  “Can you think of anything that might help us catch your husband’s killer?” Jack persisted.

  Megan responded with a brief shake of her head.

  “What about enemies. Mr. Cahill was a successful businessman. Was there anyone whom he may have bested in a business deal who was upset with him?”

  “I was divorced a little over a year ago. I knew Ray from team parties. We didn’t start dating until I filed for divorce so we haven’t . . . hadn’t known each other that long.” Megan’s voice caught and her eyes watered again. “Ray didn’t talk about his business.” She paused. “There was someone at the wedding reception—a man. He and Ray were arguing but I was too far away to hear what they were saying. You should talk to Kevin Mercer, his partner in the investment firm. He would be able to tell you about business problems.”

  “Thank you. Can you think of anything else that can help us catch your husband’s killer?” Jack asked.

  “I . . . No. I just remember standing on the beach and Miss Moran helping me back to the house and seeing . . .”

  Megan started to sob.

  “I can see how painful this must be for you, Mrs. Cahill, so I’ll cut this short. If you remember anything about that night or anything else you think might help us catch your husband’s killer, call Mr. Winston. Will you do that?”

  Megan nodded. Jack stood up. “I hope you feel better soon. And, again, my condolences.”

  Henry followed Jack, Winston, and Denning to the door.

  “Mrs. Cahill jogged my memory about the scene at the wedding reception. A man did crash the party. I don’t remember his name, but Kevin Mercer, Ray’s business partner, might. The man was very angry and he had to be escorted out by security.”

  “Where does Mercer live?” Jack asked.

  “In L.A.”

  “Okay. Does he know about Mr. Cahill?”

  Henry nodded. “He was at the wedding but he flew back to L.A. on a private jet right after the reception started. He’s staying in California to deal with the business problems caused by Ray’s death.”

  The prosecutors left and Henry sat down next to Megan Cahill.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Megan nodded.

  “Look, I hate to bring up business but I have to. When I saw you at the hospital I told you that I probably shouldn’t represent you in a murder case where the state is seeking the death penalty. We agreed that I would represent you until you decided who you would hire as lead counsel—someone from Portland or L.A., whoever you felt would best represent your interests.”

  “Those men don’t think I killed Ray, do they? They didn’t seem to suspect me.”

  “Remember we went into the house before they talked to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Jack Booth was very clear that you’re a suspect.”

  “But he was so nice to me.”

  “He puts on that act to fool people. I called around. Jack Booth is not a nice person where his cases are concerned. He is single-minded and driven and he will do anything to win.”

  “Why would he think I killed Ray? Someone hit me, Henry. Someone stole Ray’s stamps, his coins.”

  “Booth suggested that you may have had an accomplice who hit you to make it look like you weren’t in on the murder and the robbery.”

  Megan’s eyes grew wide. She looked terrified. “That’s insane. We just got married. Why would I kill my husband on our wedding night? That makes no sense. You told me that’s what you thought at the hospital.”

  “And I still do, but Booth pointed out that Ray’s money could have been your motive. You are Ray’s heir.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it? That means I can afford to hire a top criminal defense lawyer if I’m indicted.”

  “There may be a problem. Denice Bailey, the executor of Ray’s will, told me that she’s not freeing up any money until it’s clear that you weren’t involved in Ray’s death.”

  “Can she do that?” Megan asked. She sounded panicky.

  “I’m afraid so. But you have money of your own, don’t you, from the divorce?”

  “Not enough for the fees you thought a top lawyer would charge. My parents were dirt-poor, so I never had a dime of my own. If it wasn’t for scholarships and part-time jobs there’s no way I would have gotten through school.

  “By the time we split, Parnell had gone through most of his money. That’s why I started putting money into an account he couldn’t tap. We were almost bankrupt, even after we sold the house.”

  Baker looked troubled. Megan suddenly perked up.

  “Ms. Bailey will free up the money if I’m not indicted or if they arrest the murderer, won’t she?”

  “Well, yes. Then she would have no basis for keeping it from you.”


  “Do you think you can find me a lawyer who will wait for his fee until after he wins or they arrest the real killer?”

  “That won’t work. It’s unethical for a criminal lawyer to take a case on a contingent fee. The bar is worried that a lawyer in that position might do something unethical to win so he could get his money.”

  “This is so unfair,” Megan said. She began to sob again. Her shoulders shook and she beat her fists against her pant legs.

  Henry wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t lose hope, Megan. I’ll keep representing you until we think of a way out of this mess.”

  Megan looked up into Henry’s eyes. “Would you? I’d be so grateful.”

  Jack, Denning, and the DA had taken separate cars. After a few more minutes of conversation, they split up and Jack drove to his motel. On the way, he remembered something Frank Janowitz had said. The curator had told them how hard it would be to sell Cahill’s rare items because reputable dealers and collectors wouldn’t touch them. He’d also told them about disreputable collectors who would stash stolen items in private collections. To sell the items, you’d have to know who those disreputable collectors were. Jack bet Janowitz would know. And Janowitz was one hell of a good-looking guy. Were he and Megan Cahill lovers? Jack decided to find out.

  The balcony outside his room was the only place Jack could smoke, so he went there and lit up. It was sunny and warm. A young woman was running on the beach with a Labrador retriever, and a father was helping his daughter build a sand castle. A couple was walking slowly, hand in hand, deep in conversation.

  Jack checked his watch. He was meeting Kathy at seven. It had been quite a shock seeing her again, and being with her had unearthed memories and emotions best left buried. But the mere sight of her had also awakened feelings he thought he’d shaken. The first time they’d met, everything had gone horribly wrong for both of them. Now Jack wondered if fate had given them a second chance.

  Part Three

  THE KILBRIDE DISASTER

  2000

  CHAPTER SEVEN