First to Die

Chapter56

MCBRIDE HAD TO BE BACK in the office for a press briefing on the investigation. I needed to figure out why the killer had come to Cleveland, and what, if any, connections there were to our murders back in San Francisco. The next step was to talk to the parents of the bride. Shaker Heights was a posh, upper-end suburb in the height of midsummer bloom. On every street, green lawns led up to graceful, tree-sheltered homes. One of McBride's men drove me out while Raleigh went back to the Lakefront Hilton to meet with the family of the groom. The Koguts' home was a warm redbrick Normandy under a canopy of tall oaks. I was met at the door by the older sister of the bride, who introduced herself as Hillary Bloom. She sat me down in a comfy, picture-filled den: books, large screen TV, pictures of the two of them as kids, weddings. "Kathy was always the rebellious one," Hillary explained. "A free spirit. It took her a while to find herself, but she was just settling down. She had a good job- a publicist for a firm in Seattle. Where she met James. She was just coming around." "Coming around from what?" I asked. "Like I said- she was a free spirit. That was Kathy." Her parents, Hugh and Christine Kogut, came into the room. I witnessed the glazed, bewildered shock of people whose lives had been shattered. "She was always in and out of relationships," her mother eventually admitted. "But she also had a passion for life." "She was just young," her father said. "Maybe we spoiled her too much. She always had an urge to experience things." In her pictures- the wispy red hair and dare-me eyes- I could see the same joy for life the killer had obviously seen in his first two victims. It made me feel sad, weary. "Do you know why I'm here?" I finally asked. The father nodded. "To determine if there was any connection to those other horrible crimes out west." "So, can you tell me, did Kathy have any connection to San Francisco?" I could see a cast of grim recognition creep its way onto their faces. "After college, for a few years, she did live there," her mother said. "She went to UCLA," her father said. "For a year or so she stayed in Los Angeles. Tried to catch on with one of the studios. She started out with a temp job at Fox. Then she got this publicity job in San Francisco, covering music. It was a very fast life. Parties, promotions, no doubt a lot worse. We weren't happy, but for Kathy, she thought it was her big break." She lived in San Francisco. I asked if they had ever heard of Melanie Weil or Rebecca Passeneau. They shook their heads. "What about any relationships that might've ended badly? Someone, who out of jealousy or obsession, might've wanted to do her harm?" "Recklessness always seemed like a basis for Kathy's relationships," Hillary said with an edge. "I did warn her." Her mother shook her head. "She always wanted to do things on her terms." "Did she ever mention anyone special from the time she lived in San Francisco?" Everyone looked at Hillary. "No. No one special." "No one stands out? She lived there for a while. She didn't keep up with anyone after she left?" "I seem to remember her saying she still went down there every once in a while," her father said. "On business." "Old habits are hard to crack." Hillary smirked, with a tightening of her lips. There had to be some connection. Some contact from the years she had spent there. Someone came all the way here to see her dead. "What about anyone from San Francisco invited to the wedding?" I asked. "There was one girlfriend," her father said. "Merrill," said her mother. "Merrill Cole. Shortley, now. I think she's at the Hilton, if she's still here." I pulled out the artist's sketch we had of the killer's possible appearance. "I know it's rough, but do you know this man? Someone who knew Kathy? Did you see anyone like this at the wedding?" One by one, the Koguts shook their heads. I got up to go. I told them if anything came to mind, regardless of how small or insignificant, to get in touch with me. Hillary walked me to the door. "There is one more thing," I said. I knew it was a long shot. "By any chance, did Kathy buy her wedding dress in San Francisco?" Hillary looked at me blankly and shook her head. "No, from a vintage shop. In Seattle." At first, the answer deflated me. But then, in a flash, I saw that this was really a connection I was looking for. The first two murders had been committed by someone stalking his victims from afar. That's why he found them in the way he did. Tracked them. But this one, Kathy, she had been chosen in a different way. I was certain that whoever had done this had known her.