Sandra Brown - Ricochet

“As I told you last night,” she said, “when I accidentally switched on the foyer light-”

“Excuse me. Do you mind talking us through it where it happened?”

“In the study?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”

“It will be very difficult for Elise to go into that room until it’s been cleaned, rid of all reminders of what happened in it,” the judge said.

“I realize it won’t be easy,” Duncan said. But he didn’t withdraw the request.

The judge looked at his wife. “Elise?”

“I want to help in any way I can.”

The four of them made their way into the foyer. Duncan approached the fancy console table. Beneath the marble top was a slender drawer that ran the width of the table. “You took the pistol from this drawer?”

“Yes, I came out of the butler’s pantry through that door,” she replied, pointing. “I paused there a moment. I didn’t hear anything, but, as I told you last night, I sensed a presence in the study. I went to the table to get the pistol.”

Duncan fingered one of the drawer pulls. “Did you make any noise?”

“I don’t think so. I tried not to.”

“Did you close the drawer?”

“I…I don’t remember,” she said, faltering. “I don’t believe I did.”

“She didn’t,” the judge said. “It was open when the first two policemen arrived in response to the 911. I remember pointing it out to them.”

DeeDee made a mental note to read the report filed by Officers Beale and Crofton.

Duncan resumed. “You walked from the table to the door of the study.”

“Yes.”

“Were you wearing slippers?”

“I was barefoot.”

“Do you think Trotter heard you approaching?” Duncan asked. “Or did he have no inkling you were there and aware of him until the light came on?”

“If he’d heard me coming toward the study, why didn’t he just scramble out the window?”

“That was going to be my next question,” Duncan said with a guileless smile.

“Then I must have startled him by switching on the light,” Elise said. “When it came on, he froze.”

“This is the switch plate?” Duncan flipped one switch, and the overhead light in the study came on. The other turned on a fixture in the foyer directly above their heads. He looked up at the light, then into the study. “DeeDee, would you play Trotter? Go stand behind the desk.”

She peeled away the crime scene tape that formed an X in the open doorway, then went into the study and took a position behind the desk.

Duncan said, “Is that about where he was standing?”

Elise replied with a slight nod.

“What was he doing, Mrs. Laird?”

“Nothing. Only standing there looking at me. Staring, like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Was he leaning over the desk, like he’d been trying to jimmy the lock on the drawer?”

“It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. Maybe he was bending over the desk drawer, I don’t know. The first mental picture I have of him is his standing there behind the desk, looking at me, motionless.”

“Huh.” Duncan looked toward DeeDee behind the desk as though imagining Gary Ray Trotter. “And what was it he said?” He came back around to Elise.

She didn’t flinch and she didn’t hesitate. “He didn’t say anything, Detective Hatcher. I told you that last night.”

Duncan nodded slowly. “Right. You did. But you spoke to him, correct? You ordered him to leave.”

“Yes.”

“Did he make a move toward the window?”

“No. He didn’t move at all except to raise his arm. Suddenly. Like a string attached to his elbow had been yanked.”

“Like this?” DeeDee demonstrated the motion.

“Something like that, yes. And before it even registered with me that he was holding a pistol, he fired it.” She placed a hand at her throat as though suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

The judge moved closer and slid his arm around her waist.

Duncan asked, “Mrs. Laird, is it possible that he was firing a warning shot, meant only to try and scare you?”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“Did you feel in mortal danger?”

“I assumed I was. It all happened very fast.”

“But not so fast that you didn’t have time to ‘assume’ that you were in mortal danger.”

“That’s a reasonable assumption, isn’t it, Detective?” the judge asked, sounding vexed. “If a man who’s broken into your house fires a pistol, even if his aim is lousy, isn’t it logical to assume that your life is in danger and to act accordingly?”

“It seems logical, yes,” DeeDee said. “But Dr. Brooks had another theory worth considering. He suggested that maybe Trotter was falling backward when he fired his pistol, that reflexively his finger clenched on the trigger. That would explain his aim being so far off.”

Duncan was staring hard at Elise. “But that would mean that you had shot at him first.”

“But she didn’t,” the judge said. “She’s told you that a dozen times. Why do you keep hammering away at this?”

Duncan tore his gaze from Elise Laird’s stricken face and looked at the judge. “Because I’ve got to have a clear understanding of what happened. I dislike having to put these questions to Mrs. Laird. But I was there this morning when the autopsy was performed on Gary Ray Trotter’s corpse. I feel I owe it to him, crook or not, to determine how and why he wound up like that. You’re a public official, Judge. You have an obligation to the public to do your duty. So do I. Sometimes it’s no fun at all. In fact, most of the time it’s not.”

He turned back to Elise. “Are you absolutely certain that Trotter fired at you first?”

“Absolutely.”

“There. That ends it.” The judge’s statement was followed by a tense stretch of silence. Finally he said, “I admire your sense of duty, Detective Hatcher. I appreciate your quest for the truth. Elise and I have done everything within our power to help you perform your unpleasant duties.

“Haven’t you stopped to consider that we would like a full explanation for what happened here last night, too? We would like that perhaps even more than you and Detective Bowen. Elise has been as straightforward as she could possibly be. Are you now satisfied that it was a break-in that went awry?”

Duncan let the question hover there for at least fifteen seconds before answering, “I believe so, yes.”

My ass, thought DeeDee.

The judge said, “Good. Then if that’s all, I hope you’ll excuse us.” He turned, ready to escort them out, when Elise forestalled him.

“I’d like to know…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed, tried again. “I’d like to know if Trotter had a family. A wife, children?”

“No,” Duncan said. “His closest relative was an uncle up in Maryland.”

“I’m glad of that. I would have hated…that.”

“May I show you out now?” The judge started down the hall, expecting them to follow.

DeeDee came from behind the desk. As she moved past Elise, Elise reached for her hand. “Detective Bowen, I want to echo what my husband said. I know you’re only doing your job.”

Surprised by the move, DeeDee tried to think of something neutral to say that would be a fitting response, whether Elise was lying or telling the truth. “This can’t be easy for you, either.”

“It isn’t, but if I think of anything to add, I promise to call you.”

“That would be helpful.”

“Do you have a business card?”

“Right here.” Duncan plucked one from the breast pocket of his jacket and passed it to her.

“Thank you, Detective Hatcher.” Taking the card, she shook hands with him, too.