He wanted to cry. He didn’t, but he developed a stutter. “B…b…but I stepped over Chet and carried on. Marched right up to the podium.”
“They’re saying Crawford Hunt saved the judge’s life. True? Or does that just make good press?”
“It’s true. When I rounded the witness box, he was on top of her, shielding her head and upper body. Then he levered himself up just a little and looked over his shoulder at me. I aimed, but the shot went wild when he hauled off and kicked the crap out of my left knee.”
“Not hard enough to displace it. You could still run on it. Which is what you did, you gutless slob. You ran before you finished the job.”
The two brutes behind him moved in a bit closer. He halfway expected to get a stiletto between his shoulder blades. Maybe he’d be lucky and feel nothing more than a slight sting.
But nothing happened, so he continued. “I…I guess I did panic there for a second or two. I didn’t want to get caught. Last thing you wanted, too, I’m sure. I needed to get the hell out of there and strip off the costume. So I regained my head and stuck to the plan. Did exactly what we’d talked about.”
“The guy, the one killed by the police, how did he wind up with the pistol?”
“He must’ve come along as soon as I dumped the stuff and slipped into the sixth-floor hallway. I never saw him, but he might have seen me. We’ll never know. Anyway, the pistol was there for the taking, and he couldn’t resist.” He paused, and then rushed on hopefully. “Which worked out better for us. Right?”
He swiveled his head around to consult the stone-faced man looming over his left shoulder. “Right?” Coming back around to his inquisitor, he said, “The PD thinks they got their man, and that dead Mex’can ain’t gonna sit up and tell them any different.”
The man across the table from him barked a laugh that was so unexpected, it was like a karate chop across Pat’s windpipe. “That’s the only reason I haven’t killed you already. This does work out better.”
Pat nearly swooned with relief. He might get to have that drink after all. “So, then, we’re square?”
The laugh might never have happened. In fact the man across from him had never looked more menacing. “No, we’re not square, Pat.” Leaning across the table, he brought them nose to nose. “I wanted to tell you straight to your face that you’re still living only because I need your lousy ass.”
“T…to do what? Try again?”
“To heap on some misery first. And then, when I say so, finish it.”
Chapter 11
The person in the morgue wasn’t the gunman,” Crawford said, speaking slowly, eliminating any lingering uncertainty on Holly’s part.
She was staring at him, aghast. “How can that be?”
He exhaled heavily and dragged his hand down his face. “I don’t know. Wish to hell I did.”
She covered her mouth with her hand and kept it there for at least half a minute. He gave her time to try and think through the unthinkable. Finally she said, “If you’re right—”
“I am right.”
“—the ripple effect will be—”
“The Big Bang of fuck-ups.”
Wetting her lips anxiously, she said, “Maybe you’re mistaken. Maybe I am. He had a pierced ear and I just didn’t notice.”
“Believe me, I’ve been grasping at straws, too, trying to convince myself that I’m wrong, but you just proved I’m right. Immediately when I mentioned his ear was pierced, you questioned me. You didn’t do that on a single other feature.”
“But—”
“Listen to me, Holly.” Her eyes went wide. He didn’t know whether it was because of the tone he’d used, or because he’d called her by her first name, but he had her undivided attention. “I was closer to him than anybody. That nanosecond before I kicked him, I was looking straight at him. I would swear on Georgia’s head that there was no hole in his right ear.”
“On the roof, you didn’t notice the discrepancy?”
“The sun was in my eyes. Besides, I was too far away from Rodriguez to notice his pierced ear.”
“He wasn’t wearing an earring?”
“No. And my focus was on that twitching gun hand, not his earlobe. After he was down, others crowded around him. I didn’t. I didn’t look at him again until this morning at the morgue and instantly realized the mistake. I thought I was going to hurl.”
She gave him a searching look. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Can’t I? Rodriguez, or whatever his name was, didn’t kill Chet. He didn’t do anything wrong except pick up a pistol that didn’t belong to him and carry it out onto the roof when he went to smoke.”