Well. I definitely want to hear more about that. Later. Right now, I want to tell her about the gun and get Gloria on her way out of our lives.
“Want to get some coffee?” I suggest. When she gestures to lead the way, I do, telling her as we make our way to the basement cafeteria about my conversation with Jason and what I found in his house.
I don’t tell her everything. I’m purposefully vague about how I found the gun and might have given her the impression that Jason was at the house at the time I did my non-breaking and entering.
She’s watching me the way an eagle watches a mouse. I get the feeling I’m not fooling her.
“So,” she says when I pause for air. “You were in the O’Sullivan house at the minor son’s invitation because he suspects his stepmother killed his father, and found yourself in Mrs. O’Sullivan’s private office where you stumbled upon a small-caliber gun in a desk drawer. That about sum it up?”
Except for what I found in Jason’s room. Don’t think I’ll mention that right now, either. “That’s it.” I feel like I should be batting my eyelashes and winking.
She’s quiet for a moment, drawing slow circles in her coffee with a spoon. Finally, she taps the spoon on the edge of the cup, sets it down on the table and raises the cup to her lips. Instead of drinking, though, she eyes me over the rim. “As an officer of the court, I’m compelled to tell you that you should have called the police the minute you found the gun. The evidence, exculpatory or not, may now be considered tainted because of the way it was handled.”
I stop her with an upturned hand. “I didn’t touch the gun. I was careful not to. I put it into an envelope and hid it. That’s all. I didn’t remove it from the premises.”
She shakes her head and the cup descends back to the table, coffee untouched. “It doesn’t matter. The courts have strict rules regarding chain of custody. Even if it turns out that Gloria’s fingerprints are not on the gun, that the only prints belong to Mrs. O’Sullivan, if it becomes known that you moved the gun from its original hiding place, it may never be admitted as evidence in any trial.”
“What about ballistics? The police have the bullet that killed O’Sullivan. I couldn’t tamper with the insides of the damned barrel, could I?”
“No.” She draws the word out as if sifting possibilities through her head before framing her next response. “Okay, Anna,” she says. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll tell Harris about the gun. He’ll ask how I know about it. I’ll say confidential informant. We’ll do a dance over that, but I think he’ll get that search warrant. Once he has the gun, he’ll have ballistics and fingerprints run. If we’re lucky, and it’s the murder weapon and it’s registered to Mrs. O’Sullivan, he’ll drop the charges against Gloria.”
She gathers up her briefcase and takes one sip of coffee. “First, though, we go talk to Gloria. Let’s hope O’Sullivan didn’t take her target shooting or try to impress her by picking squirrels out of a tree. If she says she handled a gun in his house, even once, it may not matter what the evidence shows, the gun won’t do us a damned bit of good.”
CHAPTER 47
WHEN WE GET BACK TO THE ROOM, THERE’S SO much tension between David and Gloria it’s like walking into a Deepfreeze. David is seated at the end of the bed, chair flat against the wall, as if trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of them and still be in the same room. Gloria is looking out the window, mouth pursed in a tight frown, avoiding David’s eyes like a rat in a cobra’s cage.
At least she looks better physically than the last time I saw her at the hotel. She’s clean, her hair slicked back in a ponytail, but she’s still pale. The lines of her face are drawn with anxiety and fatigue.
They both brighten when Jamie and I walk in.
Gloria scoots herself up in the bed so she’s sitting up straighter. She looks at me. “Did you speak with Jason?”
I never had a chance to tell her that I was meeting with the kid. Only one way she could have known. “Yes. Obviously, so have you. What did he tell you?”
The corners of her eyes tighten a fraction as if she’s suddenly aware she may have said something she shouldn’t have. She recovers quickly, though, and moves her shoulders in an offhanded shrug. “Jason said that he was meeting with you this morning. He and I are friends. He knows I couldn’t have killed his father.”
Her voice drops off, waiting for me to pick up the thread, to share with David and her lawyer Jason’s belief that it was his stepmother, not Gloria, who killed his father.
After all, it would sound so much more convincing coming from me.
“Anna told me what Jason believes,” Jamie interjects. “He believes his stepmother is involved because he overheard them discussing a legal problem that could bankrupt the family. He thinks her motive was greed.”
That’s all she says. Nothing about my searching the O’Sullivan house or finding a gun.
Gloria’s expression wavers. She’s expecting more. It’s clear she’s talked to Jason. When? Before I met with him or after?
In either case, finding that gun feels more and more like a setup.
It must feel the same way to Gloria’s lawyer. She asks Gloria a few questions about how many times she was in the O’Sullivan house and if she ever saw or handled a gun there. The questions are couched in general terms and when Gloria responds that no, she never saw or handled a gun, Jamie lets the matter drop.
To Gloria’s obvious surprise and consternation. “That’s it?” Color floods her face. “You’re not going to tell Detective Harris about Laura O’Sullivan? About what Jason said to Anna? Shouldn’t the police search the house for a gun? She obviously set me up. She even tried to have me killed. Someone has to make the police see that I’m being set up.”
Jamie pulls a chair up to Gloria’s bedside and leans her face close. “Isn’t that what you and Jason are doing as well?” she asks quietly. “Gloria, I don’t believe you killed Rory O’Sullivan, but what you and that boy are doing to prove your innocence is only going to get you both in trouble.”
CHAPTER 48
GLORIA DOESN’T REACT TO JAMIE’S WORDS. HER face reflects neither anger at, nor denial of, the accusation. It reflects nothing at all.
Gloria is an actress. Her life is played out in drama. This lack of animation is scary—the deadly calm at the center of a hurricane.
It also gives her away.
David, as always, is oblivious. He’s looking at Jamie, indignation tightening the corners of his mouth. “You don’t really believe Gloria staged a suicide attempt, do you? With the help of a teenager, yet?”
Good old David. Even now he comes to her defense. For me, though, each puzzle piece is falling into place. “Let’s look at it objectively, David. The amateurish choice of drugs, stealing the bellman’s uniform, Gloria could easily have set that up. Jason didn’t need a passkey to get into the suite. Gloria let him in.”
Gloria stares down at her hands, twisting the sheet into knots, lips compressed in a hard line.
“When David and I were talking about what happened,” I continue. “We thought trying to kill Gloria and then calling for help made no sense. It wasn’t a murder attempt; it was a diversionary tactic. Jason didn’t do it because he wanted to hurt her; he did it because he thought he was helping.” I shake my head. “Gloria, you took a chance, like flipping a coin. Heads, being the victim of a murder attempt makes you look innocent to a jury. Tails, if it’s determined you did this to yourself, you come off looking guilty as hell.”