Motion to Kill

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mason spent the rest of the day talking to clients. His secretary called at five fifteen to tell him that Kelly Holt was waiting to see him.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she said as she sat across from him.

“No problem. I couldn’t stand another sympathy call. Your timing was perfect. I apologize for acting like a jerk yesterday. It’s not every day that I get to identify my senior partner’s body.”

Mason couldn’t decide if she looked better in or out of uniform. She was wearing an indigo suit, an open-necked, lime blouse, and a ruby and jade striped scarf. A gold clip held her hair snugly in back. It was a toss-up. Better yet, she wasn’t wearing a gold band to match her gold earrings and choker chain.

“Forget it. I never get used to the bodies either.”

“Last night you said that Sullivan was murdered. How do you know?”

“Sorry, Counselor. It’s my turn to claim confidentiality.”

“Why? Am I still a suspect?”

“What do you think?”

“That everybody’s a suspect until you catch the killer.”

“Exactly. You can either confess or tell me who did it.”

“I can’t do either. But I doubt that someone would try to kill me if I was the killer.” Mason told her about his drive back from the lake. “I’m parked in space number 110 in the parking garage. You can check the damage to my car and I can show you the place where I went off the road.”

“I’ll do that. Why would Sullivan’s killer want to kill you?”

“Maybe the killer thinks I know something that would identify him or her. Or maybe the killer thinks Sullivan told me something he doesn’t want anyone else to know. Or maybe it was just road rage.”

Kelly answered with professional neutrality. “I can’t protect you up here. Do you want me to ask the local cops to put somebody on you?”

Mason didn’t know whether to be pleased or frightened that she made the offer. If she believed him, she might not suspect him. But if she thought he needed protection, he might be in real danger. He was used to fighting through a pile of muddy rugby players battling over a slippery football. But he’d never played against a killer, and the prospect now didn’t seem real. And he didn’t like asking someone to take care of him.

“Not yet,” he hedged. “I’m defending O’Malley. I’ve got to deal with a difficult client and a U.S. attorney who wants to put us out of business. I won’t have credibility with either if I’ve got a bodyguard following me around. Do you have any better suggestions?”

“Just one. This is not amateur hour. Get someone else to represent O’Malley and someone else to represent your firm. I don’t want to pick up the paper and read that you’ve been fished out of the lake or sent up the river.”

Before Mason could respond, Cara Trent knocked and opened his door, carrying O’Malley’s bills in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. She was a lighter blonde than Kelly, soft where Kelly was sinewy, fragile where Kelly was tough.

“Oh, sorry, Lou, I didn’t know you had someone in here. Angela said you wanted these. She had to leave and I’m right behind her.”

“Thanks. Say hello to Kelly Holt. She’s the sheriff from the lake who’s looking into Sullivan’s death.”

Cara took a deep breath as she set her mug on Mason’s desk and shook Kelly’s hand. To her credit, it was the only part of her that was shaking.

“It’s terrible. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed like such a fine man,” Cara managed to say.

“Yes, well, I’m certain it was terrible for all of you,” Kelly answered. “I hope to visit with you about it in the next few days.”

Cara looked away from Kelly’s steady gaze. “Sure. I’ll be around.”

Kelly watched her leave, giving no clues as to her impressions of Cara. Mason assumed that Cara had known Sullivan a lot better than she would admit. He figured Kelly made the same assumption after he told her they had left the poker game together, but Kelly gave her no cause to suspect that. She picked up Cara’s coffee mug by the handle, poured the contents into Mason’s trash can, slipped it into the paper bag his lunch had come in, and dropped it into her purse.

“Mind if I borrow this for a few days?”

“Is that the way you take fingerprints in the Ozarks? What do you use for mug shots? Home movies?”

“Very funny. If Cara were at the lake, I’d ask her to come in and give me a set of elimination prints.” Mason furrowed his brow at her explanation. Kelly continued. “I’d tell her that we found prints on the boat and at the condo and that we need to eliminate hers from those we found. Since I doubt that she’s going back to the lake anytime soon, this cup will have to do.”

“Be my guest.”

She was gone before he could use one of his “How about a drink?” lines.