Motion to Kill

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“What was all that about?” Kelly asked as he pulled into the funeral procession.

“I don’t think she likes you.”

“She doesn’t even know me. Do you?”

“What? Like you?” Kelly was bright, strong, and attractive. What wasn’t to like? She was also direct and Mason usually wasn’t, but he liked the question. “You’re my favorite former FBI agent turned sheriff.”

“Well, you’re not my favorite smart-ass lawyer. But I’m getting used to you. Now, what’s this about the firm investigating Sullivan’s death?”

“I’m not investigating Sullivan’s death. I’m trying to figure out how much trouble he left behind, and I’m starting to feel like the guy who follows the elephants around at the circus with a shovel.”

“How deep is it?”

“Stop me if I tell you what you already know. Your pal St. John sends his regards. Why didn’t you tell me you’d been investigating the firm?”

“Listen, Counselor. After all your talk about privileged information, you should be the last person to complain. But you may be able to help me.”

“With what? You still haven’t told me how you know that Sullivan was murdered. Tell me what’s going on. Then we’ll see who can help who.”

“Whom.”

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Are you always this insecure?”

“You just bring out the best in me.”

“Maybe I should have gotten a ride with your partner.”

It may not have been Romantic Comedy 101, but the banter was easy and the teasing friendly and promising.

“Okay, that’s enough combat for one funeral. Am I still a suspect?”

“I checked the damage to your car. One of my deputies took a report from a farmer who was hauling a truckload of hay down Highway 5 when some idiot tried to pass another car in a no-passing zone going the other way. The farmer said the idiot flew off the road just before he was about to get creamed.”

“You see? My story checks out.”

“Wrong. It doesn’t mean your story checks out. Passing in a no-passing zone makes more sense than your story that someone was trying to kill you. I could charge you with reckless driving.”

She smiled as she said it, which comforted Mason. It wasn’t the smile of a woman about to arrest him.

“Why didn’t the farmer come back to check on me?”

“He had to go home and change his shorts.”

“So I scared the shit out of him. Very cute. Have you been practicing your punch line all day?”

“Just since breakfast. Actually, the farmer does back you up. He said the other driver held you out in the wrong lane. And he did have to change his shorts. Did you?”

“Yeah. And I haven’t stopped since. Now, what’s the story on Sullivan?”

She faced him with a pure cop look that left no room for negotiation. “I want your complete cooperation.”

“Do I get yours?”

“To a point.”

“I’ll take the same point. Deal?” Kelly raised her chin and grimaced, giving him her no-deal look. “I don’t know who killed him or who tried to kill me, but nobody wants to find out more than I do. I can’t give up a client unless I’m not worried about being wrong. And you’re not going to tell me anything about St. John’s investigation that could blow his case. So we both know what that point is. We’re college graduates. If it gets tricky, we’ll work it out. Deal?”

She slipped out of her cop look and put on her punch-line smile. “Deal. Sullivan sustained a blow to the back of the head. Probably not enough to kill him or even knock him out. Water in his lungs proves he drowned.”

“That’s not news. What else do you have?”

“Cause of death was drowning, but he had a heart attack first. The coroner says it was probably drug induced. He doesn’t have all the lab tests back yet. But he does have one test back. Your partner was HIV positive.”

“AIDS?”

“Not yet. Just HIV positive. We’re not disclosing that information yet. I’ve got an appointment with the family doctor, Charlie Morgenstern, after the funeral, to examine his medical records.”

“Any more surprises-maybe a birthmark that turned up missing?”

“Close. He had needle marks on the inside of his left arm and the inside of his thighs.”

“Don’t tell me he was an intravenous drug user too!”

“Intravenous user of something. That’s what the lab tests are about.”

“HIV explains one thing. Sullivan was stalling on the physical for the life insurance policy to cover his death benefit at the firm. Now I understand why. I wonder who gave him the virus and who he passed it on to.”

“Spreading that news would not improve his sex life and might make someone angry enough to get even. The insurance policy is another motive. Who was the beneficiary?”

“Technically, the firm, since the money was to be used to buy out his stock. So I guess his wife ends up the real beneficiary. But what difference does that make? He never got the policy.”

“Maybe his wife didn’t know that. Maybe she only knew he had the death benefit.”

“Where do you go with the information on his HIV status?”

“Missouri Department of Public Health. Morgenstern had to report the HIV diagnosis. The state may have tried to track down his sex partners to notify them.”

The mental picture of Sullivan listing the names of his sex partners was too much. Mason would have bet money he asked for extra paper.

“Did you know Sullivan and my firm were targets of St. John’s investigation?”

“No. St. John wanted O’Malley. We knew about Sullivan, but nothing I saw pointed at him or your firm.”

“Well, something changed. St. John sent Sullivan a target letter naming him and the firm about six weeks ago. Then he served Sullivan with a subpoena for the firm’s records on O’Malley. Sullivan was supposed to turn the files over this Friday.”

“How did you find out?”

“Scott Daniels found the target letter and the subpoena in Sullivan’s office on Sunday.”

“That’s convenient.”

“Yesterday, Sandra and I met with St. John to buy some time on the subpoena. Your name came up when I asked about wiretaps. St. John said they weren’t tapping our phones. Then we found this in the phone on Sullivan’s desk.”

He handed her the bug.

“Too cheap for the bureau. This is strictly amateur stuff.”

“That’s what St. John said. I don’t think I’m on his Christmas list anymore.”

“Did you find any others?”

“I’ll know soon. Is that all I get from you, Sheriff?” he asked as they pulled into the cemetery.

“Maybe. Depends,” Kelly said as they stepped out of the car.

“On what? I’ll even buy you dinner.”

“On what my pal St. John wants.” St. John stood alongside his sedan a hundred feet away, motioning her toward his car. “I don’t think I’ll need a ride back. Dinner sounds great. I’ll call you next week.”

Mason congratulated himself on getting a date at a funeral and walked toward the grave site.