Authors: Parnell Hall
Becky Baldwin was doing her best not to look exasperated. It wasn’t easy. She was clearly fed up with her client and would happily have pleaded him guilty to anything from jaywalking to treason, if it weren’t apt to get her disbarred.
Dennis Pride looked smug. Cora knew the expression well. Her ex-husband Melvin had a similar smirk on his face moments before she knocked him on his keister with a roundhouse right she’d learned from her second husband, Henry. Cora could feel her fist clenching.
Chief Harper wasn’t thrilled, either. He rubbed his forehead, narrowed his eyes. “Your client wishes to tell me something?”
Becky took a breath. Her smile was thin. “My client
doesn’t
wish to tell you anything. My client wishes to shut up on advice of counsel. Because my client faces numerous stiff penalties in the event that he should violate any legal statute, technical or otherwise, or inadvertently reveal some infraction he might have committed.”
“Then why is he here?” Chief Harper said coldly.
“He’s here because he insists on it. And while I can advise him, I can’t tie and gag him. At least not under the current guidelines of attorney-client privilege.”
“What do you want, Dennis?” Cora said.
“Don’t speak to my client, speak to me.”
“Phooey. I’m not a cop. Chief Harper is. Send him out of the room.”
“I’m not leaving the room,” Harper said. “If your client has something to divulge, he better divulge it, and he better divulge it fast. I got a triple homicide here. My patience is wearing thin. I’m in no mood to play games.”
“Neither am I,” Becky said. “So, unless you’d like to promise immunity . . .”
“For what?”
“For anything that might be divulged.”
“In your dreams.”
Becky shrugged, shook her head. “You see the situation? Suppose my client had material evidence in a murder case?”
“Then he better spill it.”
Becky raised one finger. “But suppose the means by which he obtained it violated a police directive?”
“Directive?”
“Didn’t you tell Dennis to remain in town?”
“Are you saying he didn’t?”
“Absolutely not. You can quote me on that. I never, ever said anything about Dennis leaving town.”
“Good thing you didn’t. I’d have to arrest him.”
“And we wouldn’t want that,” Becky said ironically. “So, let’s suppose someone, we won’t say who, went to Manhattan yesterday and staked out the office where Mr. Brooks, the husband of one of the decedents, was employed.”
“What the hell did you do that for?”
“Don’t answer that. We’re not admitting Dennis did anything. We’re playing what-if.”
“I’ll give you a what-if,” Harper said. “What if I throw Dennis in jail and hold him as a material witness until he’s good and ready to tell me what I want to know?”
Becky shook her head. “That would be a most unwise course of action for someone already facing a suit for aggravated assault.”
Chief Harper gnashed his teeth.
Cora leapt into the fray. “Right, right. I understand. You’re both horrible people. You eat your young. You shouldn’t be allowed in the same hemisphere. Now, I don’t care if you wrap it in a hypothetical or put a diaper on it and send it out to play. What the hell is the new information?”
“I’ve been playing detective,” Dennis said smugly.
Becky’s voice was sharp. “Dennis.”
“Hypothetically. I’ve been hypothetically playing detective. And guess what I hypothetically found?”
“Let me beat it out of him, Chief,” Cora said. “After all, he’s not suing me.”
“Actually,” Becky said, “Dennis is starting to remember things about Mrs. Brooks’s front porch.”
Cora waggled her finger. “Let’s not get away from playing detective. You’re saying Dennis staked out Mr. Brooks’s office?”
“Hypothetically.”
“And what did he hypothetically find?”
Dennis was too excited to wait for the hypothetical. “His girlfriend!” he said triumphantly. “After work he went straight to his girlfriend’s apartment!”
“Okay,” Chief Harper said. “Here’s the ground rules. You give another interview on TV, I don’t care if you say hypothetical, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
“Now, see here. I won’t have you intimidating my client.”
“Yes, you will. The last time he talked on TV someone died.”
“But not because of me,” Dennis said. “No, I won’t shut up, Becky. He can’t say things like that. Mrs. Brooks didn’t die because of me. She was killed before the interview aired. That’s not just my opinion. That’s according to the medical examiner. Maybe I can’t talk, but I don’t have to sit here and listen to things that aren’t true.”
“My client talks too much, but his point is well taken. There seems to be no doubt the woman was killed before the interview.”
“I hope
my
point is well taken,” Harper said. “There’s not going to be another one. Another interview, I mean. If your client so much as smiles at a TV camera, the deal is off.”
“What deal?”
“The deal we have right now that’s keeping him out of jail.”
“Once again, I note the ugly aroma of intimidation.”
“Ugly aroma?” Cora said. “Good God, where’d you learn to practice law, Hell’s Kitchen?”
“I don’t believe this,” Dennis said. “Here I hand you a killer on a silver platter, and all you do is bicker.”
“You think Brooks is the killer?” Cora said.
“Of course he is. A married man with a lover on the side. He can’t divorce his wife. She’s mentally incompetent. So he has to kill her. He can’t, because he’d be the number one suspect. More than likely he’ll be the
only
suspect. In which case the police will investigate thoroughly—not just like they are now—and uncover the other woman, and it’s bye, bye, baby. So what does he do? He makes her look like she’s a witness to a crime.”
“I thought she told you she
was
a witness to a crime.”
“She wasn’t a witness to anything. She saw someone in the cabin. I don’t know how suggestible she was. Hubby may have put the idea in her head.”
“So that she’d tell you?”
“So that she’d tell someone.”
“Oh, poppycock!” Cora said.
Chief Harper frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Would you prefer ‘hogwash’? We’re in genteel company, so I’m trying to avoid the more pungent synonyms for ‘nonsense.’ ”
“Why is that nonsense?” Dennis said defiantly.
“Well, let’s see. Her husband kills her so it will look like she was killed because she was a witness to another murder, is that right?”
“Yes.”
“How would anyone know she was a witness?”
“She told me.”
“And how would he know that?”
“Huh?”
“If you hadn’t run your mouth off on TV, how would hubby know she spilled the beans?”
“That’s easy,” Dennis said. “He called her.”
“Oh?”
“To say he’d be late. Which I’m sure he was in the habit of doing. He called her from the office to say he’d be late, and asked her if anyone had been around. She told him about me. He asked her if she told me about the man in the cabin. He could ask her directly, because she wouldn’t suspect anything, and it didn’t matter what he told her because he was going to kill her.” Dennis Pride’s smile was mocking. “See? It’s not so difficult when you think it out.”
“So,” Cora said. “Your theory is he tricked her into thinking she saw something she didn’t?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“So, she never did see anyone in Overmeyer’s cabin?”
“Not necessarily, no. The husband made it up.”
“So, when you went on television saying you’d uncovered a witness to the Overmeyer killing, that was a complete fabrication?”
“It wasn’t a fabrication. That’s what I was told.”
“And you thought it was true?” When Dennis hesitated, Cora added, “Because if you didn’t think it was true, you’re guilty of a total fabrication.”
“No, I thought it was true.”
“You were duped?”
Dennis bristled at the word. “I was lied to.”
“Forcefully and convincingly. By a person not legally competent.”
“By a person programmed by her husband to tell such a lie. Come on, Cora. This is about a killing. Much as you’d like to make it about me.”
“Really? I thought we were celebrating your effective detection skills. Never mind. So, Mr. Brooks made it look like his wife was a witness to disguise his motive for murder?”
“Of course.”
“And the murder of Overmeyer was just a coincidence?”
“Not at all. He planned it.”
“Oh. Brooks killed Overmeyer?”
“Sure.”
“Why? What was his motive?”
“You said it yourself. To disguise his motive for killing his wife.”
“So, he bumps off the old coot who lives next door, makes his wife believe she saw someone in his cabin, kills her as soon as she spreads the word. Voilà! The perfect crime!” Cora grimaced, shook her head. “Well, almost.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“His idea was to make it look like his wife was a witness?”
“Of course.”
“And that’s why he bumped off Overmeyer?”
“Yes. Isn’t it obvious?”
“Only if he’s dumber than you are.”
“Huh?”
Cora smiled. “He wants his wife to be a witness to a murder. He wants it so bad he
commits
a murder. Only thing is, he doesn’t commit a murder so it
looks like
a murder, he commits a murder so it looks like
natural causes
. Hell, if I hadn’t browbeaten Barney Nathan into doing an autopsy, no one ever would have
known
it was a murder.”
“So, Mr. Brooks screwed up. Some killers aren’t that bright.”
“No, no, no, no. You can’t have it both ways. He’s either smart enough to set up this incredible complicated scheme to get rid of his wife, or he’s dumb enough to blow it. You want to try him for murder on a theory like that? I’d just love to be the defense attorney handling the case. That’ll probably be Becky, and I don’t think she’ll be too thrilled with your theory. Bit of a conflict of interest, having one client trying to convict another. Think you can handle it, Becky?”
“I can if the guy’s got a retainer.”
Dennis didn’t look quite so cocky.
Cora sized him up with satisfaction. “Now, you got any more theories you’d like to advance before Chief Harper locks you up?”
“You can’t do that,” Chief Harper said after Becky Baldwin had hustled off her client.
“Can’t do what?” Cora said innocently.
“You can’t threaten a witness with incarceration.”
“Why not? The police do it all the time.”
“You’re not the police. I am. You can’t go around saying I’m going to lock someone up. He has a lawyer. If she’s any good at all, she won’t take kindly to threats.”
“Trashing Dennis is fun for everyone. It’s practically the national pastime.”
“Is any of what he said true?”
“Very little, I would think. Mr. Brooks probably does have a girlfriend. One he wanted to leave his wife for. The rest of it is a pipe dream.”
“You certainly made it sound that way.”
“You’re not happy with my analysis?”
“There must be a way it works. I mean, just because it doesn’t seem to work that way doesn’t mean it doesn’t work at all. I know you made it
sound
like it doesn’t. I also know you’re so good at twisting words, you could ridicule anything.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“What I’m saying is, what if Brooks did kill his wife? Could you make a case for it? In spite of what you told Dennis. Can you make a case for the other side?”
“Sure.”
“I figured you could. Let’s hear it. Say Brooks is the murderer. How does that pan out?”
“Start with separate motives.”
Chief Harper frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Two motives is so much better than two killers, don’t you think? If you stick with one killer, I’ll forgive you practically everything else.”
“How does two motives work?”
“Not that bad, actually. Once you concede that someone’s a killer, it’s easy to imagine them doing the deed.” Cora grimaced, waggled her hand. “I don’t mean that as stupid as it sounds. What I mean is, once you’ve killed someone, it’s easier the second time. I think there’s a scene like that in the James Bond film where they show him starting out.”
“Cora.”
“Anyway, say Brooks kills Overmeyer. Not because he wants to kill his wife, but because he wants to kill Overmeyer. Overmeyer is spying on him, Overmeyer is a lousy neighbor, Overmeyer has bad breath, whatever. Overmeyer’s cabin is an eyesore and he won’t sell it. I think Brooks said something to that effect before his wife was killed.”
“I think he did.”
“The point is, say Overmeyer’s worth killing for his own sake. So Brooks does it. For no other motive than wanting him dead.”
“What about Mrs. Brooks seeing someone in the cabin?”
“Two ways that works. One, Dennis is partly right. Once I prove Overmeyer’s death is a homicide, Brooks sees an opportunity to bump off his wife. She’s very suggestible, and he primes her with the story he wants her to tell. That accomplishes two purposes. It makes her a witness who needs to be killed.
And,
it creates another killer. It paints the picture of someone in Overmeyer’s cabin who is
not
Brooks who could have done the deed.”
Harper frowned, thought that over. “What’s the other way?”
“Brooks’s wife actually did see him in Overmeyer’s cabin. He has to explain that away. Since she’s very suggestible, he’s able to convince her that she’s mistaken when she thought it was him, it was actually someone else. Based on that, he realizes what a neat opportunity it would be to have that someone else silence her.”
“Dennis didn’t think of either of those.”
“Dennis is slow on his feet. You can bet Becky Baldwin will come up with those theories, and a dozen more. Assuming she doesn’t wind up representing Mr. Brooks.”
“Keep going with your ‘Brooks did it’ theory. How does Preston Samuels fit in?”
“Who?”
“Your midnight visitor. Corpse number three.”
“Oh. Not very well. He showed up before Mrs. Brooks bit the dust. Worried about stock pooling. Which ties him to Mrs. Brooks in no way whatsoever.”
“So why would Brooks kill him?”
“Why indeed? Somehow he must have figured out Brooks was the killer.”
“How?”
Cora grimaced. “That’s hard to fathom, since in all likelihood Brooks
isn’t
the killer.”
“Say he was. Then Samuels found out how?”
“For one thing, he’s looking for a stock-pooling agreement. Where would he be looking for it? Overmeyer’s cabin. Say he’s searching the place the same time Brooks is sneaking home to kill his wife. He sees the car come and go. After Mrs. Brooks is found dead, he puts two and two together. Tries a little blackmail. Brooks won’t bite. So Samuels calls me to turn Brooks in. Brooks says, ‘All right, all right, you called my bluff. I’ll get you the money.’ Samuels tells him Brooks better get to him before I do. Brooks does, only he hasn’t got the money, he’s got a straight razor, and he slashes Samuels’s throat.”
“You like that?”
“I hate it like hell. It makes the stock-pooling agreement irrelevant. Not to mention the convenience store gun.”
“So how
do
you connect Preston Samuels?”
“Pretty much the same way. Only assuming Brooks
isn’t
the killer. The real killer is seen by Mrs. Brooks and blackmailed by Preston Samuels. Which would fit in nicely if the killer was looking for a stock-pooling agreement. Or tying to keep Samuels from finding it.”
“What about the computer and the gun?”
“The computer theory is based only on a computer nerd’s analysis of a crossword puzzle. Which may be totally off the wall, because he’s the type of guy who sees computers in the clouds. Were they computer terms? Sure they were. On the other hand, what isn’t? Is a mouse a rodent? Is Spam a luncheon meat?”
“You’re saying there may not be a computer?”
“Exactly.”
“But there
is
a gun. So how does that tie in?”
“I don’t know. But if the money from a convenience store robbery purchased a block of stock . . .”
Chief Harper’s eyes widened. “Say. That might do it.”
“Oh, come on, Chief,” Cora said. “I’m just throwing this stuff out at random. You don’t have to buy into it.”
“I got three murders. I like anything that ties them up.”
“I can see where you would. But let’s not grab the first theory down the pike.”
“You got any others?”
“Oh, sure. The surviving convenience store victim—the one who didn’t die—”
“I know what you mean by surviving.”
“The one who recovered comes back to avenge himself on the guy who shot him.”
“After fifty years?”
“He’s slow to anger.”
“Cora.”
“That would make him the right age for the Geezer. Which would be nice, because we need a suspect. Besides Mr. Brooks.”
“The Geezer wasn’t here when the first murder happened.”
“As far as we know. You could check his whereabouts.”
“Come on. You already said the idea is ridiculous.”
“Yes, but
all
the ideas are ridiculous. One of ’em’s gotta be right.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t have to be one we’ve heard so far.”
“It almost certainly
isn’t
one we’ve heard so far.”
Harper frowned, rubbed his chin. “You got any theories about Dennis doing it?”
“Don’t get me started.”