Fatal Flaw Part 10

"He's a friend. He said money would be no problem."

"Is that what he said? And you believed him?"

"I've a trusting soul."

"Right. And Emily d.i.c.kinson was a party girl. And then you up and turned the murder weapon over to the detectives."

"I was obligated," I said. "I'm an officer of the court and I held material evidence."

She leaned forward, stared at me as if she had those X-ray spiral gla.s.ses they advertise in the back of Archie comics. "And far be it from you ever to mess with your obligations as an officer of the court."

"Far be it. What are you getting at?"

"I don't know, Victor. What should I be getting at?"

I shrugged, but my canary in the mine shaft was making like Pavarotti. If she suspected something, she who knew me best, someone else might, too. I had to get a grip, I had to start a.s.suaging suspicions, I had to start now.

"I'm sorry if I was short," I said, as sweetly as I could. "I've been on edge about this case, but I shouldn't take it out on you. Maybe I think Guy's really in trouble. Maybe I'm feeling pressure because he's a friend. Maybe I'm not handling it as well as I should. You want to know whether I think Guy did it? Well, I think his story about the headphones and the Jacuzzi and hearing nothing is well neigh unbelievable."

"What about the gun? Maybe it was silenced, maybe he couldn't hear it."

"The gun was a revolver," I said. "You can't silence a revolver. And anyway, the biggest trouble is that n.o.body else seems to have a motive."

"What about his wife? Hailey stole her husband. Is there a better motive than that?"

"Well, she was angry, for sure. She was even suing the victim."

"Really?"

"Yes, but that works against her doing it, doesn't it? I don't think you just off the object of your lawsuit. You already have an outlet for your anger, and it makes it hard to collect damages. But there's more. I just got off the phone with a Herb Stein. He was with Leila on a date the night of the murder, at a place called Cuvee Notre Dame on Green Street."

"Good mussels."

"So he said. I don't think we can pin it on her and, frankly, I don't know who else, besides Guy, might have been involved enough to want her dead." I leaned back in my chair, stared at the ceiling. "Except, of course, Guy doesn't have much of a motive either. It's the weakest part of the government's case. The why. Why would he be so angry at her as to shoot her through the heart? As long as they don't have an answer, Guy has a chance." I took a quick glance at Beth. "That's why I advised him to reject the government's offer. There is means and opportunity, sure, but you also need motive."

"Interesting, because the coroner's report came in while you were out." She waved the doc.u.ment in her hand. "Bullet through the heart, like we knew, a bruising on her cheek, like we knew, tubes tied, like we could have expected."

"Really?"

"And there was one thing more, one quite interesting thing more."

I raised an eyebrow and waited.

"They found traces of s.e.m.e.n inside her."

"No surprise. She was living with Guy."

"Yes, except that they did preliminary tests on the sample pending DNA typing. It turns out the s.e.m.e.n came from a secretor, so they could do a quick determination of blood type. Type A."

"That's common enough. What is it, a third of the population?"

"Forty-two percent, according the report. But we don't care about the general population, we're not representing the general population, we're representing Guy. And that's where it all starts looking hinky. Guy is type B."

I bathed my face in false surprise.

"She was cheating on him, Victor. There was another man."

I stared at her, fighting to remain impa.s.sive. "Did he know it?"

"I don't know."

"I suppose we'll have to find out."

"I suppose we will. But, Victor, Hailey was was cheating on him, that is a fact. He can deny knowing it all he wants, but no one has to believe him. Hailey was cheating on him and there, Victor, on a fine silver salver, is your motive." cheating on him, that is a fact. He can deny knowing it all he wants, but no one has to believe him. Hailey was cheating on him and there, Victor, on a fine silver salver, is your motive."

I stared at her, stared at her as the case against my client strengthened immeasurably right before my very eyes, based ironically on my own blood antigens, stared at her as Guy Forrest took three giant steps toward a life sentence, and the whole time I was fighting the urge to smile.

12.

"WHO DO you think killed her, Guy?" asked Beth. you think killed her, Guy?" asked Beth.

"I don't know."

"You have to have some idea. Hailey's dead and you're on trial for her murder. You knew her life better than anyone. You have to have some theory."

We were in one of the lawyer-client rooms at the Montgomery County Correctional Facility, a squat, sprawling building of orange brick, with a green ribbed roof and shiny loops of barbed wire, set out more for their aesthetic appeal than for security, a prison built for five hundred inmates but holding more than twice that amount. The room itself was slate gray, with a metal table, walls of cinder block, a solid steel door, and it had that lovely prison smell of ammonia and sweat and fear, with the faintest undertone of urine, which may have come from the surrounding halls or may have come from Guy himself, who was certainly distraught enough. In the week or so since his arrest he had grown gaunt. His hands shook slightly even as he held them on the tabletop. His eyes were like a bleary red smear. There was a welt beneath his left eye, blue-black against his gray pallor, fitting, since Hailey's corpse held the same kind of welt, and the tic that jerked his upper lip to the right at arraignment was developing nicely.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against a wall in the corner of the room and let Beth handle the questioning. This was all pro forma, something we had to do, keeping Guy fully apprised of what was happening to him as we asked him for as much information as possible. There were no surprises here. He continued to maintain his innocence as I leaned against the wall and watched the lies spill out.

"The only answer," said Guy, "is that someone came in while I was in the Jacuzzi. I didn't hear him because of the headphones. That had to be what happened."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Why?"

"I don't know. They were mad at me, not at her."

"Who was mad at you, Guy?"

"Leila was upset when I left, and so was her father."

"Jonah Peale?"

"Yes. Do you know him?"

"Only by reputation," said Beth.

"A hard son of a b.i.t.c.h. Scary. He told me to stay away from Leila and stay away from him or he'd shove a pitching wedge down my throat and take a swing at my spleen."

"Can you blame him?" I said.

Guy shot me a look of annoyance. "There was also an investigator who did some work for the firm, an ugly little lizard named Skink. Phil Skink. He had a rough reputation, and I never understood why the firm used him. There was a time, before I met Hailey, when he tried to buddy up with me for some reason. I blew him off. Frankly, he creeped me out. And then, after I left everything for Hailey, I started running into Skink in strange places."

"Where?"

"Outside my new office, in a bar. Once I was p.i.s.sing at a urinal in a restaurant bathroom. The son of a b.i.t.c.h came out of nowhere, sidled up next to me, and gave me that gap-toothed smile of his."

"Phil Skink?"

"Yeah."

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not directly, he was too sly for that. But he did mention some files I had taken with me when I left Dawson, Cricket. I told him to stay the h.e.l.l away from me, and he laughed. Once, when I was walking up to Hailey on the street, from afar I saw her talking to some man. As I got closer, I realized it was Skink. It sent a shiver through me. When he spotted me, he simply walked away. Hailey would never tell me what he said."

"You think he threatened her?"

"That's what I a.s.sumed. Maybe he was the one making the calls and then hanging up. Maybe he was the one who killed her."

"Phil Skink?" I said.

"Yeah, maybe it was him."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe." Or maybe O.J. was in town, I thought.

"Did you lock the front door of the house before you went upstairs?" said Beth.

"I usually did, bolted the door and locked the windows. We're still pretty close to the city where we live. Lived."

"And that night?"

"I think so."

"The windows were locked when the police came, but the door was open. Did you unlock the door when you went outside?"

"I don't remember."

"Was it locked or was it open? After you climbed out of the Jacuzzi, you saw her on the mattress, you picked up the gun, you searched the house. Then you called Victor and went outside to wait for him. Is that all correct?"

"Yes. Yes."

"When you went outside, did you have to unlock the door?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it, Guy."

"I don't remember unlocking it. I just opened it. It must have been unlocked. It must have been unlocked." He opened his eyes wide, as if he had just discovered a wonderful, liberating secret. "The killer somehow unlocked it and left it unlocked. That's it. That's the proof."

I stared at him from my corner, Beth stared from across the table. We didn't say a word, didn't a move a muscle.

"Why don't you tell them? That's the answer. The door was unlocked. That proves everything I said is true."

"And the evidence for that is?" said Beth, softly.

His gaze shifted crazily around the room, and then, as if her question had been a pin inserted into his abdomen, his body deflated.

I pushed myself off the wall and walked to the desk until I stood over him, my arms still crossed. "Tell me again about your relationship with Hailey," I said.

He looked up at me. "We were in love."

"Still?"

"What do you mean, still? Yes, of course."

"Did you have s.e.x the night she died?"

"No."

"The night before?"

"I don't know, I don't remember."

"The night before that?"

"I don't know specifically. We had an active s.e.x life."

"Is that why the v.i.a.g.r.a?"

"Yes." Pause. "But I didn't need it."

"Has any company ever made more money selling a drug that n.o.body claims to need?"

"Its just that...that...Hailey liked to keep going. The pill helped. She made me get it."

"She made you? When was the last time you used the v.i.a.g.r.a?"

"I don't remember. Is it important? Why is this important?"

"Were you and Hailey fighting? Did you have any fights?"