Joel Goldman - Motion to Kill

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“Tell me what happened Saturday night,” Kelly said.

“He said he was stuck playing poker with the partners. I was supposed to show up around eleven so he’d have an excuse to leave.”

“When did you make your plans?”

“Saturday morning.”

“Were you with him earlier in the evening?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he was before the card game?”

“I just figured he was having dinner with his wife.”

Kelly nodded at her to continue.

“He took me to a condo on the other side of the lake.” She laughed dryly. “He said he felt lousy. He blamed it on his wife. As if that was supposed to make me feel better. Can you believe it?”

Kelly answered, sister to sister. “Yeah, men will really fool you. What happened at the condo?”

“Nothing. He couldn’t even get it up.”

“Did he have anything to drink?”

“Ice water. He kept saying he was dying of thirst.”

“Did he take any medication?”

She took a moment to answer. “No. Not while I was watching.”

“Were you in the same room the entire time?”

“Almost. He went to the john just before we left.”

“Did you see any syringes anywhere in the condo?”

Cara gave Kelly a quizzical look. “What is that-a trick question?”

“Depends. Did you see any?”

“No. I don’t do drugs.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“Just the pill.”

“How long were you there?”

“Long enough to know there was no helping his limp dick. On the way back, we stopped in a cove. He must have been feeling better because he asked me to take my top off. He was a real boob man. Then he started shivering and stood up.” Her voice rose an octave, and her eyes glazed with the telling of the rest. “He had this funny look, like he was somewhere else, and he was breathing so fast it was freaky.”

“Tell me the rest of it,” Kelly said.

“We were standing in the middle of the boat. I reached for him but he fell away from me, backward almost. He hit his head on something. I helped him up.” She stopped.

“And then?”

“He took a couple of steps, like he was drunk, and fell in the lake.” She shrugged as her voice dropped.

“Did you try to help him?”

“I can’t swim,” she whined, as if that too were someone else’s fault. “The water was black-he never came back up.”

“Why did you go back to the condo?”

“To look for an earring I’d lost. I was afraid what would happen if people found out about us, especially his wife. The firm would never give me a job when I graduated.”

Cara looked at them, her eyes pleading for a way out. Kelly didn’t open any doors.

“I found the earring, Cara. You left it on the boat. I’ll be in touch.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mason stayed with Cara after Kelly left. He suggested she hire a lawyer and didn’t argue with her when she quit. He caught up with Kelly at the elevator.

“Cara resigned. Are you going to charge her?”

“I don’t know. Poisoning takes a strong and patient personality. Those don’t appear to be her strengths. And she didn’t know Sullivan was HIV positive, so she doesn’t seem to have a motive.”

“Who did?”

“Look for the person who had the most to gain. Who loved him or hated him too much? Who envied him too much?”

“So many choices and so little time.”

“Maybe not,” she said.

“You’ve already got a short list of suspects?”

“I’ll start with anyone who had access to insulin. You know more of the candidates than I do. Let’s kick it around over dinner. How about six thirty at Brentano’s on the Plaza?”

“Yeah, sure.”

And she was gone. Mason started missing her as soon as the elevator doors closed. Maybe it was because he’d been overly celibate lately. Maybe it was because her badge turned him on. He wasn’t certain, but he liked missing her.

He went back to his office. Scott Daniels walked in just as Mason answered his phone. When he hung up, Mason didn’t know where or how to start, so he just plunged in.

“That was Pamela. She’s been arrested for Sullivan’s murder and, if that’s not bad enough, Harlan was murdered last night.”

They stared at each other, neither speaking, until Mason’s secretary came in to tell him that Victor O’Malley was holding.

“Tell him something’s come up and I’ll have to reschedule.”

“Pamela couldn’t have killed Sullivan. That’s crazy,” Scott said.

“So far she’s only been charged with conspiracy to murder Sullivan. They’ve taken her to the Johnson County Sheriff’s office in Olathe and she wants me to represent her.”

Claire would’ve flown to her side. Mason knew he had to go, but he wasn’t in as big of a hurry as his aunt would have liked. He had no qualms about defending O’Malley in a white-collar crime case, but he was the wrong lawyer to save Pamela from the death penalty.

Scott lost interest in Pamela’s problems. “Tell me about Harlan,” he said, his gaze on the floor while he shrunk into his chair, trying to crawl inside his three-button suit.

“I got home late last night. Harlan had left a message on my machine asking me to come out to his farmhouse and help him prepare for his meeting this morning with the IRS agent. I called him back but his phone was dead. When I got out there, he was dead too.”

“What do the police think happened?” Scott asked without looking up.

“They didn’t confide in me. They just asked a lot of questions, nodded when I answered, and then asked the same questions again.” Mason changed the subject. “Let’s send the staff home for the day. We better have another partners’ meeting in the morning and figure out how we keep this operation afloat.”

Scott agreed, and they gathered the staff in the thirty-second-floor lobby and broke the news of Harlan’s death. He was a man no one could dislike. The lawyers and staff were dazed, many weeping openly, as they staggered from the office. Angela volunteered to stay and man the phones.

Mason waited until everyone except Angela and Scott were gone before leaving. Victor O’Malley Jr. nearly ran over him as the elevator door opened. Mason was in no mood for O’Malley-lite.

“Sorry, Victor, I wasn’t expecting you. My secretary told your father that we had to reschedule. We’ve got a couple of real emergencies.”

“We never needed an appointment with Sullivan. He understood how to treat important clients.”

Weasels were lousy at intimidation, Mason thought. And he was fresh out of client suck-up.

“I’ll remember that when you’re the client. Maybe your father will let you sit in on our next meeting so you can practice.”

Scott rounded the corner in time to hear their exchange. He was redefining pale but managed to welcome Junior with a conciliatory smile.

“Vic, we’re all in shock around here,” he said while taking him by the arm. “Somebody broke into Harlan’s house last night and killed him. The police think it was a burglary that went sour. On top of that, Pamela has been charged with Sullivan’s murder. Lou is on his way to the courthouse to see her. I just talked to your father and he understands about the appointment.”

“We’ve all got problems, Scott, but we need to talk about the fixtures deals.”

Scott cast a quick glance at Mason as he stepped onto the elevator, then took Vic Jr. by the arm and led him to his office.

The Johnson County Courthouse was in Olathe, Kansas, another once sleepy small town that had grown into a virtual suburb of Kansas City, even if it was twenty-five miles southwest of downtown and on the other side of the state line. On his way there, Mason left a message for B.J. Moore, a good friend and a better criminal defense lawyer.

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