Exposed, page 14
“Thanks, Shel. You’re a peach.” Was “peach” old enough that he would understand? Too old? Should she have said he was “rad?” “Let me ring off so I can talk to her. Bye.”
She disconnected the line and immediately dialed Morgan.
While she did, Hailee read from her phone. “Looks like Sally was killed on her way home from the courthouse.”
“Strangled?”
“I guess. The articles don’t give a lot of detail.”
“They probably don’t know much yet.” She heard a click on the line. “Morgan, this is Kenzi. Are you sitting down?”
Her voice was broken, halting. “I—I know about Sally.”
She did? “Do you have any idea what happened?”
“All I know is what I read on my phone. I got a news notification. Then I turned on the television.”
“The police want to arrest you.”
She heard a wail on the other end. “Why me? They should talk to Charles.”
“I’m sorry but...the police have some reason to believe you had something to do with it.”
“I would never hurt Sally. I loved Sally. Even after—after—you know.”
“But apparently they have some circumstantial evidence. And of course, many people heard what you said in the courtroom today.”
She rambled as if she hadn’t heard. “I would never hurt Sally. I loved her. Like I’ve never loved anyone in my entire life.”
“Morgan, listen to me. You need to hold it together.” While she talked, she scurried around the apartment, gathering her satchel and keys. “Like it or not, the police will insist on talking to you. And they may arrest you.”
“I didn’t do this.”
“I know. And I’ll do my best to smooth it over. But you should prepare for the worst.”
She didn’t respond. All Kenzi could hear was incessant, impassioned crying. It was horrifying to hear an intelligent woman reduced to this. “Morgan, I’m on my way to your place. Don’t do anything. Don’t talk to anyone. And most importantly, don’t leave.”
“I—I—I—”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She rang off. “Hailee—”
“Already on it. I’ll find out everything I can about the murder.”
“Thank you. Rain check on the crochet lesson.” Ten seconds later she was out the door.
* * *
Morgan had moved to a condo she found on Airbnb after the divorce was filed, and it was relatively nearby, so with aggressive driving and a complete disrespect for traffic laws, Kenzi managed to get there in twenty minutes. She had to knock for almost a minute before Morgan opened the door.
Morgan looked terrible. Her eyes were red, her clothes were rumpled, and her hair looked like she’d been in a wrestling match. “Thank you for coming.”
“No problem. First of all, we need—”
“I didn’t do it,” Morgan blurted out. “I didn’t kill her.”
“Good. But the police think you did. They’re desperate to arrest someone, and since they have some basis for pinning it on you they’re going to run with that and try to reverse some of the negative publicity.”
Morgan started to pace, rubbing her hands together. “My life is falling apart. I’m losing everything. First Charles. Then the company. Then Sally. Now this. What is happening?” She grabbed Kenzi by her lapels. “What is happening to me?”
“Morgan, are you feeling okay? Are you having any of those...hallucinations?”
“You’ll help me, right? You won’t betray me? Like the others?”
“I’m not a criminal attorney. I—”
“You represented Maya Breville.”
“That was a bizarre one-off, not to be repeated under any—”
“I want you to represent me.”
Kenzi sighed, trying not to become frustrated. “You’d be better off with someone who has more criminal experience. I’ll talk to Emma and—”
“I want you.”
Kenzi started to argue, but this was not the main thing they needed to discuss at the moment. “Look, I promised I’d bring you to the police station within the hour, so let’s talk about what you’re going to tell them. First of all, you don’t answer a question unless I give you the nod. Second, if you don’t know the answer, just say so. Don’t speculate. Don’t argue. Don’t accuse. Just say, I don’t know. Third—”
She was interrupted by a pounding on the door. “Police!”
Morgan cowered, scurrying away from the door.
What the hell? She was supposed to have more time...
“Open the door!”
In the split second Kenzi spent deciding what to do, the police burst through the front door. A stream of officers rushed in...with Shel Harrington at the tail end.
Morgan screamed and threw herself down on the sofa. Two officers grabbed her, one at each elbow, and hoisted her to her feet. She continued screaming, thrashing back and forth, kicking into the air. She looked as if she were having a complete mental breakdown.
Kenzi steeped toward her client, but one of the officers extended a hand to stop her.
“Please don’t interfere, ma’am. We don’t want to have to arrest you also. But we will, if necessary.”
Kenzi gritted her teeth but stayed put. Getting arrested would not help her client.
Another officer read Morgan her rights, not that Morgan paid the slightest attention. “You have a right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have...”
Kenzi whirled on Harrington. “You gave me a hour. It’s not half over yet.”
He shrugged. “The situation changed.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”
“You lied to me.” She glared at him, or tried. He was not making eye contact. “You followed me over here, didn’t you? Calling me was your lazy-ass way of learning where she was.”
He smiled thinly. “And a more experienced criminal attorney would not have fallen for it.”
“Excuse me for thinking the DA might keep his word.”
“This isn’t kindergarten, Kenzi. And frankly, you’re in over your head. Again.”
“As I recall, last time I was in over my head I kicked your lazy ass.”
“You got lucky. It won’t happen again.” He nodded toward one of the officers. “Search the house.”
“Hey! Don’t you need a warrant for that?”
“Guess you were paying attention in Criminal Procedure.” He plopped the document into her hand. “Start in the kitchen.”
She gave the warrant a preliminary inspection. It appeared to be legit.
“The rest of you, spread out. Don’t leave a square inch of this place unexamined.” One of the officers opened a clothes closet, pulled out everything and threw it on the ground.
Morgan screamed again.
They ignored her. While one officer dumped all the kitchen drawers, another pulled the sofa cushions off and, using a small knife, ripped them open.
“Is that really necessary?” Kenzi asked.
“Absolutely.” Harrington waved at the arresting officers. “Let’s take the perp downtown.”
“I’m coming with you,” Kenzi said.
Harrington held up his hand. “No, you’re not, and don’t follow too close behind the cop cars or we’ll have you arrested. You can talk to your client later, after we’ve taken exemplars and booked her. Give it about six hours.”
“So I can see her at four in the morning?”
“Did you have other plans?” He followed the officers toward the door.
Morgan whipped around and the officers dragged her to the door, her eyes wild and wide, her face red and blotched. “Kenzi, do something!”
But there was nothing to do. Or if there was, she didn’t know what it would be.
Morgan screamed as they hauled her out the door.
Harrington just smiled.
Kenzi knew she should probably keep her mouth shut, but she couldn’t. “You know, Shel, you are a complete and total bastard. And a liar.”
“I keep my promises to the people,” he said, obviously not bothered in the least. “I promised to keep this city safe. And that means apprehending a dangerous murderer with alacrity to make sure she can’t hurt anyone else.”
Chapter 23
While Kenzi waited for the jailhouse gatekeeper to admit her, she texted Emma. She expected a response. She did not expect Emma to appear ten minutes later, decked out in her traditional black but looking much more alert than she would’ve expected.
“What brings you here at this time of night?”
Emma plopped down on the seedy, splintered bench beside Kenzi. “I hear you have a client in the joint.”
“And you came? Even before you saw my text?”
“You think I’m going to abandon you just when the case veers into territory I actually know something about?”
“Are you going to discourage me from handling this case?”
“There’s nothing I could say that hasn’t already occurred to you.”
“There are many lawyers in Seattle with more criminal experience.”
“But few with as much heart.”
Kenzi looked up. “What?”
“And few who care about their clients as much as you do. Which is probably more valuable than jaded lawyers jumping through the hoops.”
“I...well, I...thanks.”
Emma glanced out the corner of her eye. “You know, when we were growing up, sometimes I kind of resented you.”
“Do tell.”
“I thought you were all flash, no substance. I was a better student and I worked harder, but everyone congregated around you. But after we worked on that Breville case...I saw things a little differently. You’re not just the flash. You’re the heart. I’m the brain. And it’s good to have both, especially when you’re trying a case in front of a jury. Right now, you’re what Morgan needs.”
“I don’t know...everything.”
“I’ll fill in the blanks.” Emma gave her a gentle nudge. “If we feel like we’re getting in over our heads, we can always bring in another attorney. Morgan can afford it. May I ask you a question?”
Kenzi didn’t wait. “She didn’t do it.”
“Tell me you didn’t ask.”
“She volunteered.”
“And you believe her?”
“I do. Do you?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know anything about people. I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
“I think the cops are desperate to charge someone. They’ve been looking incompetent during this entire Seattle Strangler business.”
“But they still wouldn’t do it if they didn’t have some compelling evidence. They don’t want a false charge blowing up in their faces. Remember, once the DA picks a defendant, they can’t change their minds. Win or lose, they have to go down the line unequivocally insisting the person they charged was guilty.”
“I suppose that’s true. Any way we can find out what they have?”
“Eventually the prosecution will have to share what their evidence. But they’ll wait until the last possible moment. Let me see if I can speed up the process. I have some friends.”
Kenzi blinked. Emma has friends?
“They won’t give up the farm, but I might be able to pry a detail or two out of them.”
“That would be great.”
Emma pushed to her feet. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning. Reassure Morgan. Then get some sleep.”
“I’ll try.” She grinned. “Hailee will want to know everything.”
“Nah. She already knows all there is to know.”
“From the internet?”
“From her aunt.”
“You’ve been texting?”
Emma paused by the door. “Remember what I said about you being the heart and me being the head? Hailee is the heart and the head. She’s going to be better than both of us combined.”
* * *
Around two in the morning, they finally admitted Kenzi to see her client. Perhaps because of the lateness of the hour, they skipped the usual visitation room and escorted her to a large holding cell, brought Morgan in, and locked the door behind them with a thunderous clang.
She looked even worse than she had at her home, only a few hours before. Her eyes were bloodshot, her hair was a wreck, and she looked tired. The harsh fluorescent lighting probably didn’t help, and neither did the shapeless coveralls she wore. But if Morgan deteriorated this much in a few hours, Kenzi could just imagine what would happen after a few weeks. Or months. Or years.
Or a life sentence for murder.
“How are you holding up?”
“I’m not. You’ve got to get me out of here.”
Kenzi was hardly an expert, but she thought the chances of getting her out on bail were slim to none. If the people of Seattle heard the courts were released an accused strangler right now, there would be rioting in the streets. “I’ll request bail at the arraignment. But I can’t make any promises.”
“I can make bail.”
“If it’s offered.”
“I have money. I have a job. I have no record. And I’m innocent. How can they hold me against my will?”
More a rhetorical question than a substantive one. “I try to find out what's going on first thing in the morning. I’ll file motions and stir up trouble any way I can.”
“Charles is behind this. You know he is.”
She didn’t know that at all, though she couldn’t rule out the possibility. “How would you being charged with murder help him?”
“He’ll win the divorce. No one will award me anything if I look like a murderer. And now Sally—” She choked on the word. “Sally won’t get anything.”
True enough. “Are you suggesting Charles killed her? So he wouldn’t have to pay her? Or to frame you?”
“Or maybe he hired someone to do it. That’s more his cowardly style.”
But that seemed uncommonly risky, involving other people. Just to save money on a divorce settlement? When he had millions? “Are there any other possible suspects? Anyone with a grudge against Sally?”
Morgan sat down, but she couldn’t remain still. Her hands kept fidgeting, rubbing up against one another. “Of course not. Sally was the sweetest, most generous person who ever lived.” She paused. Her voice cracked. “Until Charles got to her.”
Of course, Morgan had described Sally very differently in the courtroom. They’d all assumed Sally went turncoat for money, but no one had any evidence of money changing hands. The truth was, they had no idea why Sally turned on Morgan. And Sally wasn’t in a position to explain it now. “What about at the office? There must be someone who didn’t like her.”
Morgan thought for a moment but came up with nothing. “Sally wasn’t all that involved at the office. She was the best of us at Final Fantasy, but probably the least interested in running a business. Mostly she came to the office when we were playing Hearts.”
“Would Batista know who she hung with? Vasquez?”
“Maybe. I doubt it, though.”
“Friends? Hobbies? Outside interests?”
“That would cause someone to want to murder her? No.”
Kenzi racked her brain, trying to think of everything she should ask, but she was tired and had no doubt she was forgetting something. “Morgan, I have to ask you some tough questions.”
“I didn’t do it. I already told you that.”
“But is there anything the prosecution could use against you? Something in your past or present? I can’t make bad facts go away, but if I know about them in advance, I can mitigate the damage.”
Morgan thought for a long moment. “I can’t think of anything. The truth is, I’ve lived a pretty boring life. Online gaming. Coding. A little Hearts, and Dungeons & Dragons when I have time. I like podcasts and long walks and for the most part try to stay out of other people’s way.”
She seemed sincere. But there was always something, right? At this very minute, the DA probably had his minions turning over every rock in sight, trying to find ammunition to use against her. “I know you’re tired. If you think of something later, let me know. I probably don’t need to tell you this, but—don’t talk to anyone. Not anyone. Except me. Jailhouse snitches are so commonplace they’re practically a cliché. People get paid for going on the witness stand to relate something they supposedly heard behind bars. Just don’t talk to anyone. Period.”
“And you’ll get me out of here?”
“I will try. But in any case—mum’s the word. I’ll check in with you every day.” She took a step closer. “As hard as this may be, try to keep your spirits up. I’ll get us a trial date as quickly as possible. And in the meantime, my friends and I will move heaven and earth to make sure you get a fair hearing. I don’t know who’s behind this, but I know one thing for certain. We will not go down without a fight.”
Chapter 24
Kenzi got home around three in the morning. Emma must have kept Hailee informed because she was sound asleep. She moved her alarm back a bit, but it didn’t matter. She normally slept like a rock the moment her head hit the pillow, but this night was total insomnia. Too much going on in her head. She couldn’t stifle the racing thoughts long enough to get any meaningful rest.
If you can’t sleep, might as well go to work, right? Maybe if she got enough work done, she might sleep tomorrow. She would probably have an abnormally high turnout on the KenziKlan stream, so she chose her attire carefully. The Albert Nipon seersucker that made her look like Audrey Hepburn, fancy sneakers, stylish but comfortable, and the all-important SheFit sports bra. She combed out her side shave, added a little color to her eyes, and decided that was enough.
She was not surprised to find Sharon knew all about the dramatic events of the night before. She was equally unsurprised to see a mountain of message slips pinned to the spindle in front of Sharon’s desk. “I appear to be popular.”
“In demand, certainly,” Sharon replied. “’Popular’ might not be the right word.”
“Blowback?”
“Because you’re representing a strangler? Who some people have already decided is the Seattle Strangler?”
