Phillip Margolin - The Associate

Laurel Canyon State Park was a twisting, turning maze of dry riverbeds and towering cliffs that was known to rock climbers all over the world. At the base of some of these cliffs were caves. There was a parking area near the entrance and Martin found Joan McCann parked at the far end of the lot where she’d told him she’d be. McCann’s car was at the head of a trail that led down to the caves. “He has a fifteen-minute head start. You’d better hurry. He’s on the Bishop’s Point trail. It’s where he proposed to me,” Joan added bitterly.

Martin had been to the park many times and knew the trails by heart.

He put his gun in the waistband of his pants and grabbed a flashlight before starting on a path that led up to Bishop’s Point, a lookout spot with an awesome view, and wound down to the desert floor, where there were several caves. It took twenty minutes to reach the base of the cliff along the narrow footpath. Martin switched on the flashlight for a few seconds and played it over the rock-strewn floor at the foot of the cliff face. Then he walked toward the mouth of the nearest cave. There were large boulders on both sides of the entrance. Martin edged around one rock formation and peered into the cave hoping to see the beam of Paul’s flashlight, but there was only stygian darkness.

“You son of a bitch,” McCann screamed, just before he cracked Martin’s cheekbone with his pistol. Martin staggered backward and swung the flashlight. It caught McCann on a raised forearm but didn’t stop him.

McCann aimed a punch at Martin’s wound. The pain was blinding. A kick to the knee knocked Martin’s legs out from under him and sent him to the ground. He tried to get up, but McCann kicked him in the ribs, then stomped on his head. Just when Martin thought he would pass out the beating stopped. McCann collected Martin’s automatic from the ground, where he’d dropped it after the first, surprise blow. Martin was certain that there were broken bones in his face. His ribs stung, but he didn’t think they were broken. He struggled into a sitting position. “Did Joan tell you I was coming here?” McCann asked in a hate-filled voice. Martin held his tongue. McCann glared at him. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not here because of that bitch. You’re here for the money. Well, you’ll see the money, all right. You’re going to dig for it. Then you and I are both going to disappear. Now get up.” He gestured with the pistol and Martin made it to his feet with only one minor stumble. McCann pointed the flashlight beam into the cave and Martin preceded him inside. It was cold, but Martin was in too much pain to notice. The cave was deep and the roof, which was about nine feet high at the entrance, quickly dropped, so that they were soon moving forward in a half crouch. After they had walked for fifteen minutes the roof rose dramatically and they found themselves in a high-ceilinged chamber. McCann told Alvarez to stop in front of a large pile of rocks that looked as if they had been undisturbed for centuries. “Start digging. The bag is at the bottom of that mess. It took me almost two hours to put it there.” McCann propped the flashlight on a mound of rocks on the other side of the cave so that it pointed at the pile that concealed the money. Martin started throwing rocks from the top of the pile off to one side. Every movement hurt, but digging in the rock pile was keeping him alive and giving him time to think. After a while McCann eased himself into a sitting position against the far wall. His gun was aimed at Martin, who was certain it would soon grow heavy. As he dug he kept an eye out for a few heavy rocks. Every time he spotted one, he moved it to a spot where he could grab it quickly. Martin’s chance came after he had been working for half an hour. The barrel of the handgun wobbled then sagged downward. Then McCann leaned his head back and closed his eyes for a second. Martin was moving before he opened them. The first rock hit McCann in the forehead. He screamed and fired, but he wasn’t aiming. Martin was on him before he could focus, smashing down with a second rock that sent McCann’s head ricocheting off the wall, stunning him. A moment later Martin had the gun. “Look around you, Paul,”

Alvarez said when he was certain that McCann was fully conscious of his situation. “This cave is where your body is going to rot.” McCann paled. “You should be happy. I’m going to bury you with your blood money. You’ll have an eternity to spend it in hell.” Anger suffused Martin’s features as he aimed the gun. “Goddamn you for killing Patty,” he said, but he never pulled the trigger. Another gun fired from behind Martin. The explosion reverberated in the cave. Martin pitched forward, unconscious.

“I don’t know how much time passed before I regained consciousness,” Alvarez said. “When I came to I wished I hadn’t.” He paused for a moment, reliving the agony of those moments. “How did you get out of the cave?” Kate asked. “Joan McCann brought the police. She was attacked while she was waiting for me.” “Who…?” “She doesn’t know. The person was wearing a mask. He put a gun to her head and forced her to tell where I’d gone, then she was knocked out. When she came to I hadn’t returned, so she called the police. I was barely alive when the search party found me and Paul.” “McCann was still there?” “He was dead, shot between the eyes. The ransom money was gone.” “Did Aaron Flynn have an alibi?” “He was never a suspect. Six months later he quietly left town. I had no idea where he’d moved until today.” “Did anyone else connected with the case move away?”

“Joan. She left within three months. She visited me several times at the hospital while I was recuperating. The last time, she told me that she couldn’t stay in Desert Grove any longer.” “Was there a theory about the identity of Paul McCann’s killer?” “No. I’m certain that McCann and Lester Dobbs killed Patty, and that the same person murdered McCann and Dobbs. In the end, the most widely accepted theory was that an outsider was behind the plot.” “Do you believe that?”

“Absolutely not,” Alvarez said, his voice as hard as granite. “What happened to Gene Arnold?” “I hired the best criminal lawyer in Arizona to represent Gene. He convinced Ramon that there wasn’t enough evidence to hold him. It was obvious to everyone that Melissa’s clothing and the car had been planted at the cabin. The crime lab was all over the place and couldn’t find any evidence that Melissa or Gene had been there recently. Melissa’s body was never recovered, so there was no forensic evidence connecting Gene to the murder. All they had were the arguments and Ramon wasn’t going to prosecute Gene on the basis of a few domestic spats.” “Were there any new developments after you were shot?” “Not until now.” “Can you think of anything else that might help, Mr. Alvarez?” After a moment Martin shook his head. “You realize, of course, that Gene’s death may have nothing to do with what happened here. It was a long time ago.” “That’s true, but Aaron Flynn … The coincidence bothers me.” “Life is full of coincidences.”

Kate stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for seeing me.” Alvarez took her hand and held it for a moment before releasing it. Kate handed him her card. “If you think of anything else, please call me.” Martin nodded just as his assistant appeared on the patio. “Anna will see you to your car. Good luck.” • • • Martin Alvarez watched Kate Ross cross the terrace. Though she looked nothing like Patty, the investigator reminded him of her. They both had the same purposeful stride, and Patty had always shown a core of strength that he sensed in Kate Ross. Alvarez closed his good eye and rubbed his temples. There were times when he imagined that his wife was still with him, taking her morning ride, just out of sight and soon to return. Thoughts like that were calming, like a belief that he and Patty would be reunited in a life after death. There were other times when memories of Patty stoked an impotent rage. It was that rage that was building as Martin entered the hacienda and went to his office. As soon as he closed his door he picked up the phone. A man answered in Spanish. “You know who this is?” Alvarez asked. “Yes.”