Woman with a Gun

by Phillip Margolin

  Jack broke into a grin.

  “That’s better,” Kathy said.

  Jack finished his coffee and stood up.

  “I’ll see you out,” Kathy said.

  As they walked to the door, Jack paused in front of a framed copy of Woman with a Gun that hung in the living room.

  “What a fantastic achievement,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Kathy said. Then she melted into Jack’s arms. They held each other for a long moment before Kathy pushed him away gently.

  “I’ll see you soon,” she said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Jack drove back to his motel to pack. He should have felt great but he felt uncomfortable. He remembered his horrible dream, and that made him think about Kathy’s show at Ellen Devereaux’s gallery, which, in turn, brought back a vision of Megan Cahill’s rapid exit. What had spooked her? Jack concentrated, but he had no new insights by the time he parked outside his motel room.

  Jack packed quickly. He had brought the catalogue of Kathy’s exhibit with him and was just about to put it in his valise when a thought occurred to him. Jack remembered the two photographs that had been in Megan’s line of sight right before she bolted. Jack turned to one of them and frowned. He’d brought his laptop with him so he could work and he booted it up.

  Jack watched a lot of pro football but he had no clear memory of what Parnell Crouse looked like because Crouse had only been a backup running back. Jack had seen Crouse’s face up close in the crime scene and autopsy photographs, but he had not studied his facial features because his attention had focused on the head wound that had killed him, a head wound like the one he’d seen in the photograph in his dream.

  Jack used the Internet to find photographs of Parnell Crouse. The ex-Raider was clean-shaven in all of them, as he’d been in the crime scene and autopsy photographs. Jack studied the picture in the catalogue. He couldn’t be 100 percent certain, but the man in one of the missing photographs—the morose and bearded man who was staring into the mirror behind the bar—looked a lot like Crouse.

  Jack sat back. Megan Cahill was looking at Kathy Moran’s photograph of her ex-husband just before she fled the gallery. She must have recognized Crouse in the photograph and reached the instantaneous conclusion that Kathy knew him and had never told her or anyone else that they had met.

  Kathy had gone to Boalt Hall, the law school at the University of California in Berkeley, around the same time Crouse was with the Raiders, and Berkeley was not far from the Raiders’ stadium. She must have met him while they were both in the Bay area. If Kathy was Crouse’s accomplice in the murder of Raymond Cahill and she realized that Megan had recognized Crouse in one of her photographs, Kathy would have a strong motive to murder Megan Cahill.

  Jack felt sick. In all the time he’d been involved in the Cahill case never once had he suspected that Kathy Moran was anything more than a witness. She’d fooled him and everyone else who had investigated the case. Jack closed the catalogue. Woman with a Gun was on the front cover. He stared at the beautiful, mysterious masterpiece and wondered how someone who could create great art could also kill in cold blood. He also wondered about their night together. When Jack left Kathy’s house, he was as close to being in love with a woman as he’d been in ages. Now he wondered if anything that had happened between them had been real. Did Kathy care for him or was she manipulating him so he would defend her vigorously?

  What was he going to do? He was Kathy’s lawyer. He couldn’t go to Melendez. Hell, he didn’t even have enough evidence to accuse Kathy. All the photograph of Crouse proved was that she’d known him almost twenty years ago. Maybe Kathy had a reasonable explanation for concealing her connection to Crouse. Jack decided that he had to go back to Kathy’s house and ask her about the photograph. Jack picked up the catalogue and stopped. He took another look at Woman with a Gun and that’s when he saw it. Jack felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He took a closer look and felt sick when he realized what he was seeing.

  “We have to talk,” Jack said as soon as Kathy opened her front door.

  “My, you sound serious.”

  Jack was carrying the catalogue. He opened it to the picture of the bearded man.

  “What are you showing me, Jack?”

  “Do you recognize him?” he said, pointing at the picture.

  “No, should I?”

  “That man is Parnell Crouse.”

  “What?” Kathy said as she leaned forward.

  “That’s Crouse. Why didn’t you tell the police that you knew him?”

  “Because I didn’t. I mean I had no idea who the man in that photo was. I took this picture when I was in law school. I used to wander around some of the down-and-out parts of Oakland and San Francisco, shooting scenes and people that interested me. I didn’t date these guys. I didn’t always ask their permission. So, if that is Crouse, I certainly didn’t know who he was until you told me just now.”

  Jack wanted to believe Kathy. She sounded so sincere. But he was certain that she was lying. Jack closed the catalogue and pushed the cover photograph of Woman with a Gun across the table.

  “I took a closer look at your masterpiece,” Jack said. “You told me and the police officer who interviewed you right after Raymond was killed that you were walking toward the Cahills’ house from the direction of the Seafarer when you saw Megan Cahill and took the shot, but this photograph was taken from behind Megan and slightly to the right. You took the picture when you walked down to the beach from the Cahills’ house.”

  Kathy didn’t move. Then she flashed a tired smile.

  “So you figured it out. No one else ever has.” Kathy laughed. “It’s been in front of everyone’s nose for ten years. I was so excited when the Oregonian wanted to publish my photograph on the front page. Once I let them, there was no way I could get rid of it. It was all over the papers in New York, L.A. Even I didn’t see the problem until it was too late.”

  “No one took a hard look at the photo and no one would have any reason to take a hard look as long as no one suspected you of being anything other than a witness,” Jack said.

  “And I would still be safe if my wonderful photograph hadn’t inspired that little bitch to write a novel about the Cahill case.”

  “What happened that night?” Jack asked.

  “Megan was unconscious when I got there and Raymond was tied to the chair,” Kathy answered. “Parnell had tortured him for the combination to the vault but he’d kept Ray alive, like I told him to, so I could finish him off. Crouse and I went into the vault and I loaded the gun. Then I told Cahill who I was. He begged me not to kill him. I asked if my parents had begged. He looked down and didn’t answer. And that’s when I knew he’d killed my parents just so he could have some shitty antique for his collection. I shot him, then I dropped the gun on the floor. I wanted everyone to think that robbery was the motive for Cahill’s murder, so Parnell and I went into the vault so I could tell him what to take. When we went into the vault, Megan was out like a light. When we walked out, she was gone and so was the Schofield.”

  “Why did you take the photograph?”

  Kathy’s expression changed and she got the same dreamy look that had transformed her features when he’d asked her about the photograph ten years before in the interview room.

  “I had to. It was so . . .” She shook her head. “I knew I’d never see anything like it again as long as I lived. That’s why I didn’t kill Megan. If I’d killed her I wouldn’t have been able to show the photo.”

  “Weren’t you afraid Megan would tell the police you’d shot her husband?”

  “No, she was unconscious when I was in the same room with her, and I was in the vault when she came to. When I found her on the beach, she was in shock. But even if she were completely alert she wouldn’t have known I had killed Raymond. If her memory came back she would remember Parnell, and I was going to kill him that night. So I took the photograph. Then I walked behind her and came up the beach f
rom the direction of the Seafarer.”

  “How did you get Parnell Crouse to help you?”

  “I took the photo of Parnell during law school in a bar in Oakland. His career was going in the toilet and his marriage was going south. After I took the shot I bought him a drink and we ended up in bed. He was a real stud in the sack so we had an off-again, on-again thing until I graduated and moved to Portland.

  “After I did the photo shoot at Cahill’s house and saw the Schofield, I found him. He hated Megan. I told him we’d kill Cahill and frame Megan. He liked that idea a lot. I even told him he could keep everything we stole. Parnell was broke and he needed the money. He was easy to convince.”

  Jack digested what Kathy had said.

  “What are you going to do, Jack? You can’t tell George about my confession because you’re my lawyer.”

  “I can’t tell George what you’ve just told me in confidence but I can show him the photographs of Crouse and Megan. You didn’t tell me about them. I figured out what they showed. George can draw his own conclusions.”

  “Don’t do it, Jack. Why punish me for avenging my mother and father? We were meant for each other. We should never have put off being together.”

  Jack stood up. “I do care about you, Kathy, but this is just too big.”

  Jack picked up the catalogue and turned to leave. He was almost at the front door when he heard the hammer click. When he turned around, Kathy was aiming a handgun at him.

  “You can’t shoot me, Kathy. You know that. George is looking at you, but he doesn’t have enough to go to a grand jury. If you kill me it will be like shining a spotlight on yourself. George will bring in the state police, the FBI, and someone else will look at Woman with a Gun and figure it out.”

  “I’ll have to take that chance.”

  “No, you don’t. Let me walk out of here. I do care about you. Now I know what Cahill did to you and I know the hell Gary Kilbride put you through. I’ll make sure you get the best attorney. There will be a deal. Cahill killed your mother and father. Letting me go will work for you.”

  Kathy laughed but there was no humor in it. “If I’d just killed Raymond what you said would make sense, but you’re conveniently forgetting about Parnell Crouse and Megan and Stacey Kim and Gary Kilbride.”

  Jack had forgotten about Kilbride, and the expression on his face showed it.

  “Yes, Jack. I found out he’d been paroled, so I sent him the article from the Gazette. Then I lured him to my house with a promise to pay him off if he left me in peace. I got as much satisfaction out of killing that sadistic bastard as I did shooting Cahill.”

  “And what satisfaction will you get out of shooting me?” Jack asked. “My only sin is that I’ve been in love with you since the first time I saw you.”

  Jack saw something change in Kathy’s expression and the hand holding the gun trembled for an instant.

  “I’m going to leave,” Jack said. “You can shoot me but you’ll have to do it in the back and you’ll have to get rid of my body and my car and hope that you’ve gotten rid of every trace of DNA I’ve left in this house.

  “Our photographs are going to be on every front page and the TV news. You’ll have to hope that no one at the restaurant remembers we ate together last night and left together. That includes the waitress who got the one-hundred-dollar bill as a tip for a meal we never ate.

  “I meant what I said about going to bat for you. I can’t imagine how it felt to lose your parents like that, and I can tell a prosecutor that Gary Kilbride deserved to die. But I can’t do any of that if I’m dead.”

  The hand holding the gun trembled again. Jack turned slowly and walked toward the front door.

  “Don’t,” Kathy said, but there was no conviction in her voice.

  Jack reached for the doorknob.

  “Don’t, please,” Kathy said.

  Jack turned the knob. There was a shot but it plowed into the wall beside him. Jack walked through the door and toward his car. There were no more shots. His last view of Kathy Moran was through the open front door as he turned his car toward Ocean Avenue. She was standing where he had left her with the gun hanging at her side.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  George Melendez headed to Moran’s place with two cars for backup as soon as Jack told him that Kathy had shot at him. When the police chief asked why, Jack told him that he couldn’t answer that question because of the attorney-client privilege. Kathy was armed, so everyone was decked out in SWAT gear. Jack stayed in a police car while the officers cautiously approached the house with their guns drawn. When Melendez worked his way up the driveway he found the front door wide open.

  “Kathy, this is George Melendez,” he called while pressing against the side of the house. “Can you come out where I can see you? Jack said you had a gun. Can you throw out your gun and show me your hands? I don’t want you shot by accident.”

  There was no reply.

  “Come on, Kathy. You know me and you know I’ll treat you fairly and I won’t hurt you. I’d feel terrible if you were shot because we misunderstood the situation.”

  Melendez waited patiently. When there was still no reply, he told the men on either side of the door to cover him and he ducked inside. The living room was empty. The door to the bedroom was open. Melendez waited until his men were inside before calling out to Kathy again. When she didn’t answer, he made his way to the side of the bedroom entrance. Then he crouched down and peered through a gap between the door and the jamb.

  “Aw, no,” he said a second later. Then he holstered his gun and walked into the bedroom.

  Kathy was dressed and lying on the bed. She’d used a strip of rubber tubing as a tourniquet. The hypodermic she’d used to inject the heroin with which she’d overdosed was lying at her side.

  An hour later, George Melendez and Jack Booth climbed the stairs to the offices of Baker and Kraft and asked to talk to Stacey and Glen.

  “I’ve just come from Kathy Moran’s house. Earlier this morning, Kathy threatened to kill Jack. Fortunately, she didn’t follow through. She told Jack that she killed Megan and Ray Cahill and Parnell Crouse and she also confessed to masterminding the robbery-murder at Raymond’s house to avenge the murder of her parents.”

  “Is she in custody?” Glen asked. “Is Stacey in danger?”

  “Miss Moran is dead,” the police chief said. “She committed suicide by taking an overdose of heroin.”

  Stacey’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “Did she admit to trying to kill Stacey?” Glen asked.

  Jack nodded.

  “So it’s over,” Stacey said.

  “It is, and this case would never have been solved without your help,” George said. “So I wanted to come here so I could thank you in person.”

  Stacey knew that she should have been ecstatic, but she felt empty. She also knew that she should hate Kathy Moran but she couldn’t. Now that she was out of danger, she thought about why Moran had killed Raymond Cahill and she wondered what she would have done if her parents were brutally murdered and she learned the identity of the person who had destroyed her life.

  “Why did Kathy threaten Mr. Booth?” Stacey asked.

  “He figured out why Megan ran out of the gallery and what was wrong with Woman with a Gun. I’ll let him tell you what happened.”

  “My God,” Stacey said when Jack finished. “It was there from day one.”

  “But no one was smart enough to figure it out until Jack caught on,” Melendez said.

  “And I would never have given the photograph a second look if you hadn’t found the evidence that pointed the investigation at Kathy,” Jack added.

  After Jack gave a statement at the police station, George Melendez told him that he was free to go. On the return trip to Portland he felt very bad. Jack flashed back to the morning. He was certain that Kathy was going to kill him, but there had been a turning point. It came when he said he loved her. He’d seen the uncertainty on her face and he’d seen t
he tremor in the hand that held the gun. Did he love Kathy? Was he capable of loving anyone? He thought he had loved Adrianna, his wife of long ago, but he’d cheated on her so often. Would he have done that if he loved her?

  And was Kathy capable of love? She had spared his life and her hand had trembled. They were two broken people who had found each other, but Jack was uncertain of his feelings for Kathy or her feelings for him. And that uncertainty was his curse. How long would he live—twenty to forty years? Would he live those years alone without someone he loved and who loved him? He felt so sad and empty. When he left Kathy this morning he’d been happier than he could remember. There had been hope but that feeling had lasted less than an hour. Now it was gone and Jack had the sinking feeling that he would never recapture it.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Stacey stood behind the owner of the bookstore and waited for her to finish her introduction. It was the third week of her national book tour and she was running on fumes but she had not lost one ounce of enthusiasm. The woman was nearing the end of the introduction and Stacey took a quick look at the audience. Woman with a Gun had been an instant New York Times best seller and every seat was taken, but the person she was looking for was in the back row. She found Glen and smiled when he gave her a thumbs-up.

  “And so it is with great pleasure that I present Stacey Kim.”

  Her host stepped away from the podium and Stacey took her place while the audience applauded.

  “Thank you for coming out on this rainy night. I appreciate it. It’s hard to believe that two years ago I had never seen Kathy Moran’s mesmerizing photograph Woman with a Gun, and knew nothing about the tragedy that presented her with the opportunity to take it. It was luck that led me to take my lunch break at the Museum of Modern Art, where I saw an exhibition of Miss Moran’s work celebrating the tenth anniversary of the award of her Pulitzer Prize.

  “I had just received my MFA and I was in New York working on a novel, but I wasn’t making any progress. But once I saw the photograph, I abandoned that book and vowed to write a book inspired by Woman with a Gun. But life is funny and research for the novel led me to discover the truth behind a ten-year-old murder mystery. So instead of standing here to talk about my novel, which remains unwritten, I am going to tell you how I helped uncover secrets that had been buried for more than a quarter of a century, how I almost lost my life, and how I ended up writing a true crime book that has become every writer’s dream, a best seller.”