Lisa Black - Evidence of Murder

“I wouldn’t have any idea what kind of parent Drew Fleming would be. All I know is that it is not my decision.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from interfering so far,” Evan said. He had not glanced away from her since the moment she’d entered the office.

The best defense is a good offense. “I’m surprised you aren’t more curious about your wife’s death. I would think you’d want me to do my job.”

“Trying to get the court to take my stepdaughter away? Questioning my friends and business associates about me? That’s your job?”

“Yes.”

That brought all three men up short, but only for a moment. Then the lawyer said, “Dr. Stone, I’m afraid we’ll have no choice but to go through with this lawsuit if Ms. MacLean persists in interfering in Mr. Kovacic’s domestic situation-”

“There will be no further interference,” the M.E. assured the man.

“I never interfered in the first place!” Theresa protested.

“She thinks Mr. Kovacic is guilty of something. What that could be, I don’t know, since his wife clearly committed suicide.”

Theresa said, “There’s nothing clear about it. And as a matter of fact, it’s a good thing her body was not immediately released, because we found more evidence this morning.”

Evan’s attorney ignored her, continuing to pour out subtle and not-so-subtle threats to the medical examiner, but Evan himself lowered his head and his skin flushed, as if he were morphing into one of the undead soldiers of Polizei’s nether regions. “What evidence?”

“Bruises on her arms.”

The lawyer said, “So you think she was murdered by that serial killer?”

She ignored him and spoke to Evan. “Do you have any idea how they might have gotten there?”

He responded with only a muscle flexing at the back of his jaw.

“Did Jillian have any trouble sleeping?” she persisted.

The lawyer switched tacks once again. “Apparently Mrs. MacLean makes a habit of this behavior. Aren’t you currently under investigation for harassing a defense witness?”

“No.” A reprimand from a judge did not constitute an investigation. “What about Griffin Investments?”

Evan turned away to stare out the window. But winter days in Cleveland often grew so dark that the window became a mirror, and she watched his nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath.

“Dr. Stone, do you tolerate unlawful acts from all your employees?”

Stone, she figured, would happily toss her into the arena if it would get the lawyer out of his office, but not if the smear might extend to him. “Investigating a death is hardly unlawful. To the contrary, it is the very act we are compelled, by law, to do. Mrs. Kovacic’s case will be closed very soon and the body is ready for release right now. I don’t know what to say about your custody troubles, but they cannot be helped or hurt by anyone in this office. Good day, gentlemen.”

The attorney left with the smug look his type used to make everything appear to be a victory, and Evan followed with a heavy tread. Stone had nothing to say to her, so Theresa left as well. Reaching the door at the end of Stone’s large office, however, Evan turned and lowered his head to hers, too far from either Stone or his lawyer to be overheard.

“I don’t know where you’re going, but you’re not going to get there. Jillian killed herself and you can’t prove otherwise.”

“How would you know?”

If she had any remaining doubts about his guilt, he now dispelled them by the way he did not answer this question-couldn’t, without confessing that he knew every detail of Jillian’s death. That and the venom in his voice as he blotted out the crowded, busy office around them with his body and spat out, “I warned you-”

Sweat pricked through her skin, and her heart threatened to pound itself into pulp. She locked her knees and pushed her heels into the floor, refusing to let weakness get a toehold. “Yeah, I know, a pissing contest and I should bring an umbrella. Well, let me tell you something, Mr. Kovacic. You might want to invest in one yourself, because I’m about to rain on your parade.”

Jerry Graham answered his phone on the second ring, his voice impatient and distracted. After she identified herself he grew less distracted but no less impatient. “I’m really not interested in speaking with you, Mrs. MacLean. Evan has been my friend for many years.”

“I have no interest in paining Mr. Kovacic. I’m simply trying to find out what happened to Jillian, and why.”

“We’ll probably never know why.”

“That may be true. Anyway, I didn’t want to ask you anything about Evan at all. I just need to know what Jillian had for breakfast Monday morning.”

“What?”

“We’re trying to narrow down time of death. Once we have that, then I’m sure we’ll be ready to issue the certificate.” This being, more or less, a blatant lie, but it sounded reasonable enough. Jerry Graham had spoken as if he hadn’t actually seen Jillian on Monday morning, and Theresa needed to confirm that.

“Breakfast?”

“It has to do with gastric contents, which is, well, I’m sure you don’t really want to hear about that-”

“No.”

“But I had the impression that Jillian had been eating breakfast when you and Evan left for your meeting on Monday morning. Do you remember what she was eating?”

“No, I-I don’t know. I didn’t see.”

She would have liked to see the expression on Jerry Graham’s face as he evaded her questions, but didn’t dare set foot on the Kovacic grounds again. Did he simply not notice the breakfast table, was he lying, or was he simply grossed out by the thought of someone looking at the contents of Jillian’s stomach? “What was on the table? Do you remember that?”

“I never went inside. I knocked on the door and Evan came out. We were cutting it a little close and had to get going.”

“Oh. You didn’t step inside the apartment?”

“No. I was juggling a couple of files I wanted to review on the way downtown. I don’t think I even glanced up. If I did, I don’t remember.”

“Did Jillian say anything to you? Call good-bye, or anything?”

“No. I don’t know if she knew I was there, or maybe she was in the bedroom or something.”

So he hadn’t seen Jillian. “Did you hear her say good-bye to Evan? What did she say?”

“I don’t know. He shouted, ‘Bye, Jilly,’ or something like that before he shut the door, but I don’t know what she said. We needed to hurry.”

“Did you hear anything from Jillian at all? Even if you couldn’t understand the words?”

His speech had gradually slowed, and now it stopped entirely. She pressed the receiver to her head firmly enough to cut off the supply of blood to her ear, trying to interpret his silence. Did he stop talking to rack his brain, to reconstruct every detail of that morning? Or was he examining every answer to determine if it might harm Evan?

Or had he begun to have some very uncomfortable suspicions about his best friend? A million tiny details might be suddenly falling into place in Jerry Graham’s mind, and she wished she could be privy to each one of them.

Or had Evan thought of each detail and worked every one out with his friend Graham, who now wondered if they had done so thoroughly enough? But if they had collaborated in Jillian’s death, these two very intelligent men, Jerry would know the right answers and repeat them without hesitation.

Ultimately, Jerry Graham hedged his bets, giving her the worst possible answer. “I don’t remember.”

“Do you remember the tone of her voice?”

“No, sorry. I might have heard her say something, I might not have. I just can’t be sure.”