Parnell Hall - The Wrong Gun

“Know what?”

Timberlaine’s eyes blazed. “That that gun killed him. It’s absolutely impossible. It can’t have happened.”

“According to ballistics-”

“Fuck ballistics. I know what I know.”

“And what do you know?”

“What?”

“Tell me what you know,” Steve said. “Do me a big favor, since I’m your lawyer, and catch me up with the cops.”

“There’s no reason to be sarcastic.”

“No, of course not,” Steve said. “You fuck everything up, hand me a hopeless murder case and say defend it. What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Now hang on,” Timberlaine said. “This is not my fault. Someone has framed me and framed me good. If that hadn’t happened, nothing I said would have mattered. Now let’s stop bellyaching and take a look at the facts.”

“Fair enough,” Steve said. “And what is your version of the facts?”

Timberlaine glared at him. “My version is the truth. If it doesn’t make any sense, I can’t help that. But that’s the way it is.”

“Fine,” Steve aid. “Let me in on this truth.”

Timberlaine took a breath. “All right,” he said. “First off, Burdett outfoxed me on the auction. Outbid Crumbly for the gun I wanted.”

“No shit,” Steve said. “That was obvious to everybody there. You were furious because Burdett got a tip.”

“Right,” Timberlaine said. “Exactly.”

“Did you tell that to the cops?”

“Of course I did.”

“Christ,” Steve said. “But there was no reason to think that. It was a gun you would have naturally wanted. Burdett could have come to that conclusion himself.”

“I know that,” Timberlaine said.

“So there was no reason to think he got a tip.”

“Maybe not, but I think he did.”

“He says he didn’t.”

“I don’t care what he says. I still think he got a tip.”

“Fine,” Steve said, without enthusiasm. “Let’s not argue about it. Anyway, what did you do?”

“I started out of the auction, I was angry. I went out the back door onto the patio. Of course, no one was there. Everyone was in the auction.”

“So what did you do?”

“I felt like letting off steam. I went out to the pistol range to shoot the gun.”

“Was that what you did?”

“No.”

Steve frowned. “What?”

“I never got there. Halfway there it occurred to me I didn’t give a shit about hitting the target, I just wanted to fire off the gun. So I did.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just took out the gun and shot it.”

“Where?”

“Right there. On the path.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with that?”

“Where were you aiming?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“What?”

“Relax. I shot up in the air, away from the house.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I know guns, for Christ’s sakes.”

“Yeah, but-”

“So there’s no chance the shot I fired magically returned to the house, entered the gun room and killed Jack Potter.”

“O.K. Say it didn’t. After you shot, did you reload?”

“No. I just jammed the gun back in my holster.”

“What did you do then?”

“Kept on walking.”

“Where?”

“Actually, I went out past the pistol range.”

“Did you stop?”

“No. I’d already shot the gun. I kept on going.”

“Where?”

“I walked right on by it on the path. I actually made a big circle, wound up back at the house.”

“At what time?”

“I don’t know. But the auction wasn’t out yet.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. There was no one on the patio. And I could actually hear the auctioneer over the loudspeaker as I went inside. I went in the back door up the stairs to my room.”

“What did you do then?”

“Just like I told the cops. I changed my clothes.”

“And what did you do with the gun?”

“It was right there in the holster. Hell, you were there. You saw when I gave it to the cops.”

“Yeah. And that’s where you left it?”

“Absolutely.”

“O.K. You took off the gun and you left it there next to the bed. What time was that?”

Timberlaine shrugged. “I can’t give it to you any better than I already have. Like I say, I went out, walked around and when I came back the auction wasn’t over yet.”

“The auction broke up at four-thirty.”

“Then it had to be before that.”

“How much before?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t hear it break up?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I was in the shower.”

“You took a shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“What do you mean, why’d I do that? I took a shower.”

“In the middle of the afternoon?”

“So what? I can’t take a shower in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Of course you can. But you need to say why.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Not when you’re charged with murder. Why’d you take a shower?”

“I don’t know why, actually. It’s not like I had to think about it. I was pissed off and I wanted to get out of the cowboy outfit. Because that was all associated with what I was pissed off about. So I wanted to change. And I was hot and sweaty from walking around and all. And getting all worked up. And I wasn’t about to put on clean clothes without taking a shower. So that’s what I did.”

“Your hair wasn’t wet.”

“What?”

“When I saw you with the cops-your hair wasn’t wet from the shower.”

Timberlaine’s eyes narrowed. “You saying you don’t believe me?”

“No. I’m just saying your hair wasn’t wet. I noticed it, so you can bet the cops noticed it. So when you say you took a shower the cops are going to want to know why your hair wasn’t wet.”

“I have long hair, it’s a pain in the ass to dry. I don’t always wash it. Particularly like that in the middle of the day. I took a shower from the neck down, kept my hair dry.” Timberlaine looked at Steve. “You got long hair. Don’t you ever do that?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “But this isn’t my alibi.”

Timberlaine grimaced. “Alibi. Jesus.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what we’re talking here. You finished the shower and you put on clean clothes, right?”

“Right. Except for the pants.”

“Why not the pants?”

“Well, the pants aren’t really dirty. They’re part of the costume, yeah, but they’re just jeans. I like jeans. Plus I got all my shit in the pockets-change, keys, wallet, what have you. It’s a pain in the ass to have to change it to another pair of pants. So I put on all clean clothes except for the jeans.”

“And where’d you go then?”

“Nowhere.”

“Nowhere?”

“That’s right. Nowhere. I was fed up, and I didn’t feel like talking with anyone. I sat down and watched TV.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why should I kid about a thing like that?”

“You watched TV?”

“Yes.”

“What did you watch?

“The baseball game.”

“What game?”

“The Yankees.”

Steve looked at him. “This was four-thirty in the afternoon?”

“Around then.”

“And the game was still on?”

“They’re in California. The game started four o’clock our time.”

“How long did you watch the game?”

“Until the cops came.”

“Oh?”

“In the sixth or seventh inning. I don’t know. I was sittin’ there watching the game, I heard a siren. Went to the window, looked out. That’s when I saw the cop cars.”

“What time was that?”

“I don’t know. Sometime around six.”