The chief rocked back on his heels, his heavy face determined.
“Sorry to intrude, Mrs. Murdoch, but I have a duty to investigate your husband’s murder. He was shot with a twenty-two.” Cobb turned toward Kirby. “You were target-practicing with a twenty-two Thursday afternoon on the river bottom.” It was a statement, not a question.
Kirby jammed a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah. I shoot most Thursdays. When I finished, I put the gun in the trunk of my car.”
“Where is the gun now?”
Kirby didn’t answer.
Chief Cobb pressed him. “Yesterday you said it must have been stolen from the trunk of your car.”
“Yeah.” He stared at the floor.
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I felt a chill. He was trying not to look at his mother. Kirby thought she’d taken the gun. Why did he suspect her?
The questions came fast.
“What time did you put it in the trunk?”
“About two-thirty.”
“Where was the car between two-thirty and five?”
“Parked in the lot next to my girlfriend’s apartment.”
“Locked?”
Kirby gnawed at his lower lip. He started to speak, stopped, finally spoke. “Yeah. It was locked.”
His mother drew in a sharp breath.
Chief Cobb was somber. “Where were you shortly after five p.m.
Thursday?”
Judith took two quick steps, stood between the chief and her son.
“He was with his girlfriend. He’s already told you.”
“He can tell me again. Here or downtown. This time he can tell me the truth. He was seen outside his father’s office shortly after five o’clock.” Chief Cobb’s gaze was cold. “Your choice, son.” Kirby swallowed. “Yeah, I was there.” Judith gave a strangled cry. “You can’t do this. I’ll call our lawyer.”
Chief Cobb’s eyes narrowed. “I’m seeking information, Mrs. Murdoch. I’m not making an accusation. It looks like you think your son had something to do with his father’s death. Are you afraid of what your son is going to say?”
Judith looked tortured. “You’re twisting my words.” Kirby jammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I went to Dad’s office because I had to talk to him.”
“You followed him out of the parking lot?” Kirby’s face ridged. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. I started after him.” He shot a desperate, grieved look at his mother, moved uneasily on his feet. “Dad drove to the church.” He put out the words with effort.
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“I waited until he parked. I caught him just outside the church. I told him what a louse he was for getting Lily fired from her job. It was a rotten thing to do. He said he’d make sure she never got another job.” Cobb waited.
Kirby shuddered, again stared at the floor. “We were yelling, and when I looked up we’d walked into the cemetery. I got madder and madder and he shoved me and I shot him.”
“What happened to the gun? Did you put it in the trunk and somebody stole it?” The chief looked sardonic.
“No. I threw it away in the cemetery.” Cobb pursed his lips. “Nobody stole it?”
“No. I threw it away.” Kirby’s expression was dogged.
Chief Cobb studied Kirby. “I am taking you into custody for questioning. We’ll go downtown and arrange for a lawyer to be present.” Judith threw out her hands. “He didn’t do it.” She was frantic, her voice rising. “He’s lying. He didn’t shoot his father. I did. Kirby didn’t follow his father.”
Chief Cobb turned on her. “How do you know that, Mrs.
Murdoch?”
Judith looked oddly calm when she spoke. “I was there. I was waiting in my car. I followed Daryl. He was alone in his car.” She looked at Kirby, her face stricken. “You saw me, didn’t you?”
“Mom, don’t.” Kirby’s voice was anguished.
Cobb looked at her intently. “Why did you follow him?” Judith’s face was bleak. “He’s been cheating on me for years. I finally had enough. I followed him to the church. I’d already gotten Kirby’s gun out of his car. He never locks his car. That was another lie. I drove by his girlfriend’s apartment and saw his car Thursday afternoon. That’s when I got the gun.” Chief Cobb folded his arms. He looked from one to the other. “I want to speak to each of you separately. Kirby, let’s step outside for a moment.” He nodded at Judith. “Please wait in the living room.” 205
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Judith clasped her hands. “Kirby didn’t shoot his father.” Kirby didn’t look toward Judith. “Mother didn’t do it. I swear. She doesn’t know how to shoot a gun. I did it.” Chief Cobb folded his arms. “I can take you both into custody, interview you separately. So take your choice. Here. Or downtown.” Kirby jerked a shaking hand toward the door. “Let’s go outside.” He turned away. The chief followed. Judith stood rigid, staring after them.
When the front door closed, I was at the chief ’s elbow.
Cobb gave Kirby a hard look. “Take it from the first. You got to the church. What happened?”
“I caught up with him outside the church. We started arguing. We were making a lot of noise. He grabbed my arm, pulled me toward the cemetery. We walked for a few minutes and we were yelling at each other and I pulled out my gun and shot him.”
“Which gate did you take into the cemetery?” Kirby looked wary. “How should I know? It was just a gate.” Cobb rubbed one cheek. “The main road curves to the south.
Were you near that curve?” The Pritchard mausoleum was a good hundred yards from that curve.
Kirby moved uneasily, but he managed a straight stare. “I guess.
Yeah. That sounds right.”
Cobb gestured as if he held a gun. “You pulled out the gun and shot him. Did the bullet hit him in the chest?” Kirby thought fast. He knew guns, especially knew .22s. To be deadly, a small-caliber bullet had to strike a vital area. “Yeah. His heart. Right on.”
“What did you do with the gun?”
Kirby hesitated an instant too long, then said quickly, “I went over to the nature preserve and threw it into the lake.” Cobb’s face furrowed in irritation. “You’ve got a new story every 206
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time. First, somebody stole the gun. Then you threw the gun away in the cemetery. Now you tossed it in the lake. You’re lying.
One way or another, you’re lying. You don’t know where the body was found. You don’t know where he was shot. Or maybe”—his gaze was cold—“you’re clever as hell and you know the answers but you’re lying your head off. Wait here.” He slammed into the house.
Kirby called after him, “Mom’s trying to protect me. She didn’t shoot him.”
Cobb strode into the living room.
Judith waited by the fireplace. The flames crackled but she shivered. “Kirby’s trying to protect me. I’m sorry.” She looked like she would collapse, then drew herself up. “I’m ready to go to jail.” The chief nodded. “Just a few facts, Mrs. Murdoch. Where were you standing when you shot your husband?” Her eyes flared. “I was”—she hesitated—“facing him. We’d quarreled. He came toward me. I pulled the gun out of my purse and shot him.”
“Where were you?”
“In the cemetery.”
“Where in the cemetery?” His gaze was sharp.
Judith clutched at her throat. “I don’t know exactly. I don’t remember where we were. I was too upset.”
“Did you enter by the south gate or the west gate?” I thought rapidly. Kathleen and I had used the wheelbarrow to enter through the north gate. The main gate was on the west side of the cemetery. There was also a gate to the south. I had the distinct sense Judith was desperately trying to guess the right answer. Logically, if she and Daryl had walked from the church, they would have entered through the west gate.