Peter Spiegelman - Red Cat

When Mike felt he’d defended his turf sufficiently, he cleared his throat and became all affability and reason again. “As it turned out, detectives, you preempted our call to you by just a few hours. We were waiting for Mr. March- the other Mr. March- to complete his report.”

McCue and Vines spoke together, in a torrent of disbelief, but Flores interrupted them. “By all means, counselor, I’d love to hear what you and the other Mr. March have to say.”

And Mike told the story- of David’s brief and limited relationship with Cassandra, of the phone calls and threats, of his intent to pursue legal action against her if necessary, of him hiring me and me finding Holly, and of reading in the papers about the Williamsburg Mermaid.

“My client was shocked by the news, and upset and frightened tooand the direction of your investigation would seem to bear out his fears. So we elected to wait a few days before contacting the police, and in that time to do what we could to identify other reasonable avenues that an investigation might pursue. As John’s report makes clear, there are several.”

He was good at the telling, better than good, and he made the sequence of events- the reasoning, the decisions, and the actions taken- seem entirely logical, if not inevitable. But despite Mike’s delivery, the story itself remained a tough sell. He knew it, and so did Rita Flores and the cops.

Flores smiled ruefully. “I’ve got to get you in front of my law students, counselor, because that was frigging great. Really, you live up to your reputation. But the sad fact is, after all the magic words, it’s still just a sow’s ear. It’s still Holly Cade blackmailing your client, him hiring a PI- his own brother, no less- to find her, and her turning up dead. It’s still him with motive and opportunity.”

“Are you saying that you consider my client a suspect, Ms. Flores?”

She waved a hand. “This is still just a friendly chat, counselor, and I’m still waiting to hear from your investigator.” There was only a little irony in how she said it. Mike turned to me, and so did everyone else.

“It was a dangerous life,” I said, and I walked them through my investigation, and all that I’d learned about Holly’s anonymous, often extreme, sexual encounters, the secret recordings, the pressure she exerted on her partners, the interrogation sessions, the abusive former boyfriend, the current one who was a violent ex-con, and the possibility that someone had been using her videos for blackmail. I could tell by the glances they exchanged and the notes they took that much of it was news. Rita Flores looked at me again and I felt the weight of her dark eyes.

McCue sighed dramatically and shook his head. “I’ve heard shit about you, and none of it good, but nobody said you were stupid enough for this- jumping into an active investigation with both feet…” He shook his head some more. “We know you talked to the neighbor, and to the sister in Connecticut, but I want a list of everybody else: names, addresses, phone numbers, everything. We need to figure out how bad you fucked things up.”

“I know my business, McCue- I documented everything, and nothing was fucked up.”

“Right.” Vines snorted. “The fact that you’d mess with an open case tells me you don’t know shit. I can only imagine how many witnesses you screwed with.”

I took a deep breath. “Check my notes, talk to the people I talked to. I didn’t screw with any of them. I didn’t lead, coax, or coach anyone.”

Vines ignored me. “And God knows what you did to the evidence.”

“Evidence of what?” I snapped, and Mike cleared his throat. “I was nowhere near any physical evidence.”

“No?” McCue asked. “What about when you tossed Holly’s apartment?”

I shook my head. “That wasn’t me,” I said.

Mike coughed again and looked at Flores. “As John said, we’re happy to share information-” Vines snorted. Mike ignored her. “And it seems we’ve developed some that you haven’t come across yet.”

“It’s not so hard when you know who the vic is,” Vines said.

Mike looked at Flores. “I realize there’s a lot to think about in what John had to say.”

“A lot of speculation,” McCue said, “a lot of guesswork.”

Mike continued. “A lot of reasonable doubt to look into, and we’re pleased to help in any way we can. But we could be more helpful if we knew a little more about the state of the investigation.”

McCue’s eyebrows leapt to his hairline. “You have some nerve, asking-” Flores cut him off.

“We’re all playing our cards close, counselor, and I guess that’s only natural at this point.” She looked at McCue. “On the other hand, Leo, I don’t think there’s harm in a little sharing- provided Mr. Metz is willing to do the same.”

Mike nodded. “Within reason.”

Vines glared and McCue’s jaw tightened. “What do you want to know?” he rumbled.

“The video you showed us- where did you get it?”

McCue looked at Flores, who nodded. “We got a DVD in the mail. The footage was on it, and so was a shot of March’s driver’s license.”

“You know where it came from?”

McCue shook his head. “The envelope was postmarked Manhattan, but it had Holly’s return address on it.”

“Was there anything else inside,” Mike asked. “A note, perhaps?” McCue thought for a while, and shook his head.

“An anonymous tip,” I said. “That’s breathtaking police work.”

Vines nearly came out of her chair. “The fuck was that, asshole?”

“It didn’t strike you as a little convenient? Maybe even suspicious?”

“Which means we’re supposed to ignore it?” McCue’s face reddened. “That’d be fucking great police work.”

“Not ignore it,” Mike said, “but given what you know now, about someone using Holly’s videos for blackmail, I’d expect that you’d look at it a little differently.”

Vines sneered. “Differently how?”

I answered before Mike could. “You ever consider that maybe your DVD came from the blackmailer- who maybe had something to do with Holly’s death, and therefore has every reason to set my brother up to take the heat?”

Vines started to snap back, but Flores cut her off. “We’ll look at all of this, counselor, and very closely, I promise,” she said. Then she looked at David.

“And now, what about you, Mr. March? We’ve talked a lot about you today, but we haven’t actually heard you talk.”

Mike nodded at him, and David looked at Rita Flores. His voice, once he found it, was quiet but even. “Mike and John have laid out the facts, and I can’t add to them. But if you want to hear me say I had nothing to do with this woman’s death, then I’m saying it. I don’t know what happened to her, and I had nothing to do with what happened to her.” Flores nodded vaguely and McCue spoke.

“Do you own a gun, Mr. March?”

David didn’t flinch. “No.”

“Can you account for your time two weeks ago today, Mr. March?” he asked. And David walked them through that day. It was the same story he’d told me, and I knew they would see the same holes.

McCue made notes, and looked up at David. “And your wife can confirm that you were home all evening?” Something in his voice raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Yes,” David said.

“So she was with you the whole time?” McCue asked. Mike caught the bad vibe too and interrupted.

“I think Mr. March’s answer was clear,” he said, before David could answer.

McCue swapped looks with Vines and Flores, but went on to other things. “From what you- or your lawyer- said, it sounds like Holly’s telephone calls were mostly about wanting to see you again.” David nodded. “No other topics of conversation?”