Meredith Fletcher - Vendetta

“You think she killed Marker as part of her assignment?” she asked

“Don’t know yet. But I know she intended to leave a message for somebody.”

“Why?”

Keller slipped two fingers into his shirt pocket and took out a thin rectangle covered in clear plastic wrap. “Because she left this at the murder scene.” He held the object out. “Careful when you handle it.”

The evidence was a playing card. Specifically, it was the Queen of Hearts. Dark smudges of fingerprint powder marred the card’s surface and gave the queen a dirty face.

“These are her fingerprints?” Marion asked.

“And Marker’s.”

“That doesn’t mean that she brought the card to the murder scene. Since Marker’s prints are on it, he could have just as easily brought the card.”

“So while she’s pointing a gun at him, with her foot in the middle of his chest, he asks her to take a look at a playing card? Or let’s say Marker did that. Why would she take the card while she’s holding a gun on him?”

Marion handed the card back. “I don’t know.”

Keller tucked the card back into this shirt pocket and buttoned the flap. “I think she used the card because it meant something to Marker. It was something he’d recognize. Since they’ve got a history—”

“You can’t prove that.”

“You don’t just break into a stranger’s motel room, put your foot on his chest and shoot his face off,” Keller said gruffly.

Marion winced.

Keller sighed. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I’m a little too plainspoken.”

“That’s all right.”

“But the fact of the matter, Counselor, is that those two people— Marker and that woman—knew each other before they came here. We’ve just got to figure out how.”

“What do we do now?”

“We talk to her,” Keller said. “See if she’s ready to tell us why she killed Marker.”

Looking at the woman, Marion sincerely doubted that was going to happen.

Someone knocked at the open door. A deputy leaned into the room. “Sheriff Keller? There’s a man in the lobby who says he’s that woman’s attorney. He’s demanding to see her.”

That surprised Marion. She looked at Keller. “Has she called anyone?”

Keller shook his head. “Did the attorney give you a name?”

“Yes, sir. Even gave me a card.” The deputy entered the room and handed it over.

Keller took the card. Marion looked over his shoulder.

Adam D. Gracelyn

Attorney-At-Law

A mild expletive escaped Keller’s lips. He looked at the deputy and nodded. “Bring Gracelyn to me.”

Marion knew the name. The Gracelyns were part of the old money families in Phoenix. She’d never met any of them, but she’d read about them in the Phoenix Sun society pages. There had been something about Adam Gracelyn passing the bar exam a few years ago.

The deputy left.

“This isn’t good,” Keller said quietly.

“Why?”

“Adam Gracelyn’s a real firebrand when you get him riled. With all his daddy’s money, you’d think he’d just settle down to a nice long stay as one of daddy’s corporate lawyers. Instead he signed on with the public defender’s office. He specializes in representing minorities and the disenfranchised. He’s going to be trouble.”

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