Ricochet

Chapter 4

“WHO FIRST, HER OR THE JUDGE?”

Duncan thought about it. “Let’s talk to them together.”

DeeDee registered surprise as well as a trace of disapproval. “How come?”

“Because they’ve already been questioned separately by Crofton and Beale. Sally Beale told me Mrs. Laird’s second telling didn’t vary from the first and that she’s prepared to sign a statement.

“If it really is a matter of her shooting a home intruder, and we continue badgering them, it’s going to look like we doubt them, and that will seem like reprisal for my contempt charge. The only thing it will accomplish is to piss off the judge. Gerard will have my ass if I have another run-in with him.”

“Okay,” DeeDee said. “But what if it isn’t a case of her protecting herself from a home intruder?”

“We have no reason to disbelieve them, do we?”

He left DeeDee to mull that over and followed his nose until he located the kitchen, where Sally Beale and Elise Laird were seated at the table in the breakfast nook, talking quietly. When he came in, the policewoman, in the manner of a heavy person, pushed herself to her feet. “We’re finished here.” She closed the cover of her spiral notebook. “I’ve got it all down.”

None of the color had returned to Elise Laird’s face. She looked at him inquisitively. He sensed unspoken apprehension.

“We’re ready for you in the living room, Mrs. Laird.”

He made his way back to the formal room, where Crofton and Judge Laird had been joined by an austere, gray-haired woman who was pouring hot liquid from a silver pot into china cups.

Sally Beale, who had escorted Elise Laird from the kitchen, came up behind Duncan and noticed his curiosity. “The housekeeper,” she said in a low rumble. “Something Berry. Blew into the kitchen twenty minutes ago like she owned the place.” She chuckled. “’Bout keeled over when she saw my big black self sitting at the breakfast table.”

“So she doesn’t live in?”

She shook her head. “Apparently the judge called her to duty and she came running in no time flat. She’s prepared to do battle for him.”

From over his shoulder, Duncan gave the policewoman a significant look. “For him, but not for Mrs. Laird?”

“All the time she was boiling water and preparing the tea tray, she didn’t say boo to the lady of the house. You couldn’t melt an ice cube on that one’s ass.” She raised her shoulders in an indolent shrug. “I call ’ em as I see ’em.”

The judge stood up and warmly embraced his wife when she rejoined him. They were talking together softly, but Crofton was close enough to overhear, so Duncan reasoned that Judge Laird was only asking his wife how she was faring.

Crofton, trying to balance the dainty teacup and saucer on his knee while jotting something in his notebook, greeted Duncan and DeeDee’s appearance with evident relief. “I’ll turn it over to the detectives now.” He set the china on the nearest table, then left the room along with Beale.

Duncan and DeeDee took the twin chairs facing the sofa, where the judge and his wife sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Neither had touched the steaming cups of tea in front of them. Laird offered some to Duncan and DeeDee.

Duncan declined. DeeDee smiled up at the sour-faced housekeeper. “Do you have a Diet Coke?”

She left the room to fetch the drink.

“Have they removed it?”

Duncan supposed the judge was referring to the corpse. “Yes. On his way to the morgue.”

“Where he belongs,” he muttered with distaste.

Elise Laird tipped her head down. Duncan noticed her hands were tightly clasped together and that she had pulled the sleeves of her sweater down over the backs of them as though to keep them warm.

The housekeeper returned with DeeDee’s Diet Coke, served over ice in a crystal tumbler on a small plate with a doily and a lacy cloth napkin. To her credit, and Duncan’s surprise, DeeDee thanked the housekeeper graciously. Any other time, she would have been breaking up with laughter, or scorn, over such pretentious finery.

At a motion from the judge, Mrs. Berry withdrew, leaving the four of them alone. The judge placed his arm around his wife and drew her closer to him. He looked at her with concern, then focused on Duncan.

“We’ve told the other officers everything we know. They took copious notes. I don’t know what more we could possibly add, although we want to do everything we can to resolve this issue as quickly as possible.” His expression was earnest, concerned.

“I hate asking you to retell what happened, but Detective Bowen and I need to hear it all for ourselves,” Duncan said. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. Let’s just get it over with so I can take Mrs. Laird to bed.”

“I’ll make it as painless as possible,” Duncan said, flashing his most reassuring grin. “However, during our questioning, Judge, I’ll ask you not to offer a comment or answer unless directly asked. Please say nothing that could influence Mrs. Laird’s recollection. It’s important that we hear-”

“I understand the procedure, Detective.” Although the judge’s interruption was rude and his tone brusque, his expression remained as pleasant as Duncan’s. “Please proceed.”

The man’s condescending tone grated on Duncan. The judge was accustomed to running the show. In his courtroom, he was the despotic authority. But this was Duncan’s arena and he was the ringmaster. Lest his anger get him into trouble, Duncan thought it best to let DeeDee begin, ease them into it. He’d take over when it got down to the nitty-gritty.

He gave DeeDee a subtle nod and she picked up the cue immediately. “Mrs. Laird?” DeeDee waited until Elise raised her head and looked at her. “Can you lead us through what happened here tonight?”

Before beginning, Elise took a deep breath. “I came downstairs to get something to drink.”

“She does nearly every night,” the judge chimed in, flouting Duncan’s request that he not speak until asked.

Duncan chose to let it pass. Once. “You suffer from chronic insomnia,” he said, remembering what he’d heard the judge tell Crofton.

“Yes.” She addressed the reply to DeeDee, not to him. “I was on my way to the kitchen when-”

“Excuse me. What time was this?” DeeDee asked.

“Around twelve thirty. I remember looking at the clock shortly after midnight. It was about half an hour later that I got up and came downstairs. I thought a glass of milk would help me fall asleep. Sometimes it does.”

She paused, as though expecting someone to comment on that. When no one did, she continued. “I was in the kitchen when I heard a noise.”

“What kind of noise?”

She turned toward Duncan, meeting his eyes for the first time since that moment in the kitchen. “I wasn’t sure what I heard. I’m still not. I think maybe it was his footfalls. Or him bumping into a piece of furniture. Something like that.”

“Okay.”

“Whatever it was, I knew the sound was coming from the study.”

“You couldn’t identify the noise, but you knew where it was coming from?”

The judge frowned at the skepticism underlying DeeDee’s question, but he didn’t say anything.

“I know that sounds odd,” Elise said.

“It does.”

“I’m sorry.” She raised her hands palms up. “That’s how it was.”

“I don’t see why this couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning,” the judge said.

Before Duncan could admonish him, Elise said, “No, Cato. I’d rather talk about it now. While it’s still fresh in my mind.”

He studied his wife’s face, saw the determination in her expression, and sighed. “If you’re sure you’re up to it.” She nodded. He kissed her brow, then divided an impatient look between DeeDee and Duncan, ending on him. “She heard a noise, realized where it was coming from, thought-as any rational person would-that we had an intruder.”

Duncan looked at Elise. “Is that what you thought?”

“Yes. I immediately thought that someone was inside the house.”

“You have an alarm system.”

Duncan had noted the keypad on the wall of the foyer just inside the front door. He’d seen a motion detector in the study and assumed that similar detectors were in other rooms as well. Homes of this caliber almost always had sophisticated alarm systems. A judge who’d sent countless miscreants to prison would surely want his home protected against any ex-con with a vendetta in mind.

“We have a state-of-the-art monitored security system,” the judge said.

“It wasn’t set?” Duncan asked.

“Not tonight,” the judge replied.

“Why not?” The judge was about to answer. Duncan held up his hand, indicating he wanted to hear the answer from Elise. “Mrs. Laird?”

“I…” She faltered, cleared her throat, then said more assertively, “I failed to set the alarm tonight.”

“Are you usually the one who sets it?”

“Yes. Every night. Routinely.”

“But tonight you forgot.” DeeDee put it in the form of a statement, but she was really asking how Mrs. Laird could forget to do tonight what was her routine to do every night.

“I didn’t exactly forget.”

These questions about the alarm had made her uneasy. An uneasy witness was a witness who was either withholding information or downright lying. An uneasy witness was one you prodded. “If you didn’t forget, why wasn’t the alarm set?” Duncan asked.

She opened her mouth to speak. But no words came out.

“Why wasn’t it set, Mrs. Laird?” he repeated.

“Oh, for crissake,” the judge muttered. “I’m forced to be indelicate, but seeing as we’re all adults-”

“Judge, please-”

“No, Detective Hatcher. Since my wife is too embarrassed to answer your question, I’ll answer for her. Earlier tonight we enjoyed a bottle of wine together in our Jacuzzi. From there we went to bed and made love. Afterward, Elise was…Let’s just say she was disinclined to leave the bed in order to set the alarm.”

The judge paused for effect. The air in the room suddenly became abnormally still. Hot. Dense. Or so it seemed to Duncan. He became aware of his pulse. His scalp felt tight.

Finally the judge ended the taut silence. “Now, can we move beyond this one point and talk about the man who tried to kill Elise?”

An inactivated alarm system was a significant point in the investigation of a home break-in that had resulted in a fatal shooting. As the lead detective conducting the investigation, that’s what Duncan should have been concentrating on.

But instead, he was having a hard time getting past the idea of a bottle of wine and Elise Laird in a tub of bubbles. To say nothing of an Elise Laird in bed, sexually sated to the point of immobility.

And when an erotic visualization of that flashed into his mind, it wasn’t Cato Laird who was lying with her.

As though reading his mind, DeeDee shot him a look of reproof, then addressed the next question to Mrs. Laird. “When you heard the noise, what did you do?”

As though grateful for the new direction of questioning, she turned to DeeDee. “I went through the butler’s pantry, which is the shortest route from the kitchen into the foyer. When I reached the foyer, I was certain there was someone in the study.”

“What made you certain?” DeeDee asked.

She raised her slender shoulders. “Instinct. I sensed his presence.”

“His presence? You knew it was a man? Instinctually?”

Elise’s gaze swung back to Duncan. “I assumed so, Detective Hatcher.” She continued to look at him for a moment, then turned back to DeeDee. “I was afraid. It was dark. I sensed someone inside the house. I…I took a pistol from the drawer in the hall table.”

“Why didn’t you run to the nearest telephone, dial 911?”

“I wish I had. If I had it to do over-”

“You would be the one on the way to the morgue.” Cato Laird took one of her hands and pressed it between his. He kissed her temple near her hairline.

Duncan interrupted the tender exchange. “You knew there was a pistol in that drawer?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Had you used it before?”

She looked affronted. “Of course not.”

“Then how did you know it was there?”

“I own several guns, Detective,” the judge said. “They’re kept handy. Elise knows where they are. I made sure of that. I also insisted on her taking lessons to learn how to use the guns to protect herself in the event she should need to.”

She learned well, Duncan thought. She’d shot a man straight through the heart. He was a good marksman, but he doubted he could be that accurate under duress.

To defuse another tense moment, DeeDee prompted Elise. “So you have the pistol.”

“I walked toward the study. When I got to the door, I switched on the light. But I flipped the wrong switch and the light in the foyer came on, not the overhead light in the study. They’re on the same switch plate. Anyway, I illuminated myself, not him, but I could see him, standing there behind the desk.”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing. He just stood there, frozen, looking startled, staring at me. I said, ‘Get out of here. Go away.’ But he didn’t move.”

“Did he say anything?”

She held Duncan’s gaze for several seconds, then replied with a terse no.

He was absolutely certain she was lying. Why? he wondered. But he decided not to challenge her about it now. “Go on.”

“Suddenly he jerked his arm up. Like a puppet whose string has been yanked. His hand came up and before it even registered with me that he had a gun, he fired it. I…I reacted instantaneously.”

“You fired back.”

She nodded.

No one spoke for a time. Finally DeeDee said, “Your aim was exceptionally good, Mrs. Laird.”

“Thank God,” the judge said.

More quietly Elise said, “I got lucky.”

Neither Duncan nor DeeDee said anything to that, although DeeDee glanced at him to see if he thought that shot could be attributed to luck.

“What happened next, Mrs. Laird?”

“I checked his body for a pulse.”

Duncan remembered Baker saying that the victim’s muddy footprints had been smeared, probably by both the Lairds.

“He fell backward, out of sight,” she said. “I was terrified, afraid that he was…”

“Still alive?” DeeDee said.

Again Elise appeared to take umbrage. “No, Detective Bowen,” she said testily. “I was afraid that he was dead. When I got up this morning, I didn’t plan on ending a man’s life tonight.”

“I didn’t imply that you had.”

The judge said brusquely, “That’s it, detectives. No more questions. She’s told you what you need to know. The law is clear on what constitutes self-defense. This intruder was inside our home, and he posed an imminent threat to Elise’s life. If he had survived, you’d be charging him with a list of felonies, including assault with a deadly weapon. Shooting him was justified, and I believe my wife is being inordinately generous by wishing he had survived.”

Duncan leveled a hard look on him. “I remind you again, Judge, that this is my investigation. Think of it as my equivalent to your courtroom. I’ve extended you the courtesy of being present while I question Mrs. Laird, but if you insist on contributing another word without being asked to, you’ll be excused and I’ll conduct the interview with her alone.”

The judge’s jaw turned rigid and his eyes glittered with resentment, but he gave a negligent wave of his hand. It wasn’t a gesture of concession. He made it appear he was granting Duncan permission to continue.

Duncan turned his attention back to Elise. “You felt for a pulse?”

She pulled her hand from her husband’s grasp, crossed her arms over her chest, and hugged herself. “I didn’t want to touch him. But I forced myself. I went into the room-”

“Did you still have the pistol?”

“I had dropped it. It was on the floor, there at the door.”

“Okay,” Duncan said.

“I went into the study and stepped around the desk. I knelt down, put my fingers here.”

She touched her own throat approximately where her carotid would be. Duncan noticed that her fingers were very slender. They looked bloodless, cold. Whereas the skin of her throat…

He yanked his eyes away from her neck and looked at the judge. “I overheard you telling Officer Crofton that when you reached the study, you found Elise slumped behind the desk.”

“That’s correct. She was slumped in the desk chair. I thought…well, you can’t imagine the fear that gripped me. I thought she was dead. I rushed over to her. That’s when I saw the man on the floor. I’m not ashamed of the relief I felt at that moment.”

“You had blood on your robe.”

He shuddered with revulsion. “There was already a lot of blood on the carpet beneath him. My hem dipped into it when I bent over the body. I felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.”

“What were you doing at this point?”

If DeeDee hadn’t asked that of Elise, Duncan would have. He’d been watching her out the corner of his eye. She’d been listening raptly to her husband’s account. If he’d said anything contradictory to what she’d experienced, she hadn’t shown it.

“I was…I wasn’t doing anything. Just sitting there in the chair. I was numb.”

Too numb to cry. He remembered her eyes being dry, with no sign of weeping. She hadn’t shed a tear, but at least she hadn’t lied about it.

The judge said, “Elise was in shock. I probably remember more at this point than she does. May I speak?”

Duncan realized he was being patronized, but he let it pass. “Please, Judge,” he said with exaggerated politeness.

“I picked Elise out of the chair and carried her from the room. I stepped over the pistol, which was on the floor just inside the study door, as she said. I left it there and didn’t touch the body again or anything else in the room. I deposited Elise here in the living room and used that telephone to call 911.” He pointed out a cordless phone on an end table. “No one went into the study until the officers arrived.”

“While you were waiting on them, did you ask her what had happened?”

“Of course. She explained in stops and starts, but I got the gist of it. In any case, it was rather obvious that she’d interrupted an attempted burglary.”

Not so obvious from where I sit, Judge. Duncan didn’t speak his thought aloud because there was no point in riling the judge unnecessarily. However, there were some details that needed further investigation and explanation before he was ready to rubber-stamp this a matter of self-defense and close the books on it. Getting an identity on the dead man would be the first step. That could shed some light on why he was in the Lairds’ home study.

Duncan smiled at the couple. “I think that’s all we need to go over tonight. There may be some loose ends to clear up tomorrow.” He stood up, essentially putting an end to the interview. “Thank you. I know this wasn’t easy. I apologize for the need to put you through it.”

“You were only doing your job, Detective.” The judge extended his hand and Duncan shook it.

“Yes. I was.” Releasing the judge’s hand, he added, “For the time being, the study is still a crime scene. I’m sorry if this poses an inconvenience, but please don’t remove anything from it.”

“Of course.”

“I have one more question,” DeeDee said. “Did either of you recognize the man?”

“I didn’t,” Elise said.

“Nor I,” said the judge.

“You’re sure? Because Mrs. Laird said she’d turned on the wrong light. The room would have been semi-dark. Did you turn on the overhead light in the study, Judge?”

“Yes, I did. I explained to Officer Crofton that on my way into the room, I switched on the light.”

“So, with the overhead light on, you got a good look at the man?”

“A very good look. As stated, he was a stranger to us, Detective Bowen.” He softened the edge in his voice by politely offering to see them out. Before leaving Elise, he bent down to where she had remained seated on the sofa. “I’ll be right back, darling, then I’ll take you up.”

She nodded and gave him a weak smile.

Duncan and DeeDee walked from the room with him. When they reached the foyer, DeeDee said, “Judge, before we leave, I’d like to measure the height of that bullet hole in the wall. It’ll only take a sec.”

He looked annoyed by the request, but said, “Certainly,” and motioned her to follow him toward the study.

Duncan stayed where he was in a deceptively relaxed stance, hands in his pants pockets, staring after his partner and the judge as they moved down the foyer out of earshot.

Beale and Crofton were talking together at the front door. From the snatches of conversation Duncan could overhear, they were discussing the pros and cons of various barbecue joints and ignoring the reporters and curiosity seekers still loitering in the street, waiting for something exciting to happen.

He looked into the living room. Elise was still on the sofa. She had picked up her cup of tea, but left the saucer on the coffee table. Both her hands were folded around the cup. They looked as delicate as the china. She was staring down into the tea.

Quietly Duncan said, “I was drunk.”

She didn’t move or show any reaction whatsoever, although he knew she had heard him.

“I was also pissed off at your husband.”

Her fingers contracted a little more tightly around the cup.

“Neither excuses what I said to you. But I, uh…” He glanced toward both ends of the foyer. Still empty. He was safe to speak. “I want you to know…what I said? It wasn’t about you.”

She raised her head and turned toward him. Her face was still wan, her lips colorless, making her eyes look exceptionally large. Large enough for a man to fall into and become immersed in the green depths of them. “Wasn’t it?”