Motion to Kill

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“I don’t get cops. I’m in the middle of an epidemic of murdered partners and you’re grinning like you just won the lottery.”

“Professional pride. I like being smarter than the killer.”

“How was he murdered?”

“An overdose of insulin.”

“I didn’t know he was diabetic.”

“He wasn’t. I doubt if he would have taken a fatal dose of insulin on purpose. Somebody injected him or duped him into injecting himself. That fits with the needle marks found on his left arm and thighs.”

“How do you know it was insulin?”

“Lab tests. And it makes sense with the rest of the evidence.”

“I thought he drowned.”

“He did. The insulin overdose made him sick enough that he couldn’t save himself when he hit the water.”

“What did it do to him?”

“Probably made him sweaty and nauseated at first. At the end, his heart rate was in overdrive. That’s what caused the heart attack. If he hadn’t fallen in the lake, that’s what would have killed him.”

“When do you think it happened?”

“Could have been before or after the card game. The reaction can be fast or take up to a few days.”

“What now?”

“I’m going to have a chat with Cara Trent. She was the last person seen with Sullivan.”

“Why haven’t you talked with her already?”

“I wanted to wait for the lab tests so I’d know what to ask her and so I’d know when she was lying.”

“What makes you think she’ll lie?”

“Everyone does at first. Or they leave things out, like you did.”

Mason didn’t argue since she was right about him.

“Mind if I sit in?”

He couldn’t let one of the firm’s employees be questioned about her involvement in a murder without a lawyer present.

“I’d have been disappointed if you didn’t insist.”

“Do you think she did it?”

“I don’t know. Depends on what their relationship was really like. Murder is a strange business. It attracts the most unlikely people-friends, lovers, spouses-all kinds of partners.”

They walked down the hall to Cara’s office. She sat behind a wooden desk in her windowless office, twirling a pen between her fingers. She jumped when they knocked, as if they’d awakened her. Her face was slack, her eyes puffy. Mason guessed she wasn’t sleeping and probably hadn’t for the last couple of days.

Case files were stacked on both sides of her chair. The walls were bare. Her small office got smaller when Kelly showed Cara her badge and wasted no time with small talk.

“Were you with Richard Sullivan when he died?”

Cara pulled her chair up hard against her desk, a slight tremor passing along her jawline. “No.”

“Mr. Sullivan was murdered, Cara. You were seen leaving the poker game with him on Saturday night, which makes you the last person seen with him. I’m certain you want to help us find out who killed him.”

Cara looked at Mason for confirmation. She was struggling to keep her control as she wadded the edge of her legal pad.

“It’s true,” Mason said. “But you don’t have to answer any questions. I’m sure you know that.”

“No, Cara, you don’t have to answer my questions. But I’d have to wonder why you’d refuse to assist in a murder investigation,” Kelly said, holding Cara with her stare.

“You haven’t given me a Miranda warning.”

“You don’t get a Miranda warning until you become a suspect. Are you a suspect?”

Cara crossed her arms over her chest. “I know my rights. You’re not even in your jurisdiction.”

“I’ll make it easy on you, Cara. A neighbor puts you at the condo that night twice; the first time with Sullivan and the second time by yourself. And your fingerprints are all over Sullivan’s ski boat. Now, be a good girl and tell me the truth.”

“If you’ve got my fingerprints, you got them illegally. What’s the matter, haven’t they heard of the Fourth Amendment in the Ozarks?”

Cara turned ugly with her last shot, playing lawyer one too many times. Kelly counterpunched.

“Here, read this.” She pulled Sullivan’s autopsy report from her briefcase and tossed it onto Cara’s desk. “Your boyfriend had a little secret he forgot to tell you about. He was HIV positive.”

Cara turned chalky and started to shake. “You’re lying, you goddamn bitch, you’re lying!”

“I don’t have to lie, Cara. The truth is a lot scarier than any lie I could tell you. Pick it up and read it.”

Kelly’s quiet insistence frightened Cara, who shrank from the report as if it were contagious.

“Pick it up and read it,” Kelly continued, hammering her with a velvet glove. “You probably don’t have AIDS yet since it can take ten years to show up. Now, read it and tell me what happened.”

Cara picked up the report, quivering, tears streaming down her face. “Oh God, oh my God …,” she cried, and then reached for her trash can and vomited.

Kelly put her arm around her, now a soothing big sister helping Cara wipe her face with tissues from a box on the desk.

“Cara, you don’t have to say anything else,” Mason said.

He’d been transfixed by Kelly’s performance and almost forgot why he was there. Kelly ignored him and handed Cara her coffee cup.

“It’s okay,” Cara said between gulps. “I know what I’m doing.” Her voice was soft, childlike. “I wanted him to use protection, but he said I was the first one since his wife and I fucking believed him.”

“Tell me what happened Saturday night,” Kelly said.

“He said he was stuck playing poker with the partners. I was supposed to show up around eleven so he’d have an excuse to leave.”

“When did you make your plans?”

“Saturday morning.”

“Were you with him earlier in the evening?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he was before the card game?”

“I just figured he was having dinner with his wife.”

Kelly nodded at her to continue.

“He took me to a condo on the other side of the lake.” She laughed dryly. “He said he felt lousy. He blamed it on his wife. As if that was supposed to make me feel better. Can you believe it?”

Kelly answered, sister to sister. “Yeah, men will really fool you. What happened at the condo?”

“Nothing. He couldn’t even get it up.”

“Did he have anything to drink?”

“Ice water. He kept saying he was dying of thirst.”

“Did he take any medication?”

She took a moment to answer. “No. Not while I was watching.”

“Were you in the same room the entire time?”

“Almost. He went to the john just before we left.”

“Did you see any syringes anywhere in the condo?”

Cara gave Kelly a quizzical look. “What is that-a trick question?”

“Depends. Did you see any?”

“No. I don’t do drugs.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“Just the pill.”

“How long were you there?”

“Long enough to know there was no helping his limp dick. On the way back, we stopped in a cove. He must have been feeling better because he asked me to take my top off. He was a real boob man. Then he started shivering and stood up.” Her voice rose an octave, and her eyes glazed with the telling of the rest. “He had this funny look, like he was somewhere else, and he was breathing so fast it was freaky.”

“Tell me the rest of it,” Kelly said.

“We were standing in the middle of the boat. I reached for him but he fell away from me, backward almost. He hit his head on something. I helped him up.” She stopped.

“And then?”

“He took a couple of steps, like he was drunk, and fell in the lake.” She shrugged as her voice dropped.

“Did you try to help him?”

“I can’t swim,” she whined, as if that too were someone else’s fault. “The water was black-he never came back up.”

“Why did you go back to the condo?”

“To look for an earring I’d lost. I was afraid what would happen if people found out about us, especially his wife. The firm would never give me a job when I graduated.”

Cara looked at them, her eyes pleading for a way out. Kelly didn’t open any doors.

“I found the earring, Cara. You left it on the boat. I’ll be in touch.”