Steve grinned. “No, I’m afraid the poor guy’s just torn between the suspects, the press and us.”
“Think they’re talkin’?”
“Not yet. More than likely waiting on their lawyers. Vaulding should be right back.”
He was. Vaulding came in the door, put his hand up, shook his head and said, “Not yet. Crumbly’s lawyer’s here and we’re waiting on Kessington’s. Then they’ll need some time to confer. But the press won’t wait. Veronica’s holding her own, but she’s such good copy if I don’t get out there I’m gonna find out she’s aced me out of the whole front page.”
“Go to it,” Steve said.
“You’re really not coming?”
“It’s your show, Vaulding. That was the deal.”
“Yeah, I know. But under the circumstances, I’d almost feel better with you there. There’s gonna be questions I can’t answer.”
“Yeah, but there’s others you can. You lay on a general line of bullshit-there’s certain things you can’t discuss until the suspects talk-then you give ’em whatever you want.”
“Yeah, but what? I need some hard facts. Right now the main thing I got on ’em is they tried to run and flight is an indication of guilt. Aside from that, I got nothing. That adapter Veronica held up in court wasn’t the one they used, that was just a bluff.”
“Yeah, but one that worked. Without that you got no flight. But you want hard facts, you got hard facts. There’re the substituted guns. That backs that theory. And you remember the bump on the head? The one the medical examiner photographed? There’s your other theory. The guy was coshed on the head and then shot. It’s a nice theory, ’cause it had to be that way. You can whip out a pistol and shoot a guy in the head, but no one’s gonna stand there waiting to be shot while you fit a bullet in an adapter into a shotgun and aim it at him.”
“Yeah,” Vaulding said. “That helps. Would you happen to know who did it? I can charge ’em as coconspirators, but odds are, when they sing one of them’s gonna rat the other out. It would be nice to name the shooter.”
“Which you can easily do,” Steve said. “You said it yourself. The adapter Veronica held up in court was not the one used in the murder. She couldn’t find the one used in the murder. Why? Because the murderer had gotten rid of it. But when she held it up in court, someone ran. Who? Crumbly. Why? Because he wasn’t the shooter, so he didn’t know this couldn’t be the adapter used in the murder because he wasn’t the one who disposed of it.”
“Kessington ran too.”
“Yeah, but not when he saw the adapter. When he saw they got Crumbly. He knew the adapter had to be a plant, but he figured Crumbly would talk. Which he may.
“Incidentally, there’s another player in this you shouldn’t leave out.”
“Who’s that?”
“Crumbly’s wife.”
“You mean she probably knows about it and if I work on her she might break?”
“It’s the other way around, Vaulding. You know, for an elected official, you’re not very politically correct. For my money Crumbly’s a pretty weak tool and I wouldn’t be too surprised to find the missus was the brains behind him.”
“Son of a bitch,” Vaulding said.
“Yeah, but if so, I’ll bet she’s a tough nut to crack. The way I see it, it’s more likely you’ll get him to rat on her.
“But these are details, Vaulding. They can wait. The press won’t.”
“Right,” Vaulding said. He paused in the door. “Give me one more thing. Odds are these guys won’t talk until tomorrow, so any prediction I can make in the papers makes me the golden boy. Aside from running, give me one more thing indicates these guys were the perps.”
“O.K.,” Steve said. “You got Crumbly’s testimony. About him meeting Timberlaine at brunch and Timberlaine asking him to bid against Burdett.”
“What about it?”
“Well, that’s gotta be part of the plan, right? They’re framing Timberlaine so they gotta give him a motive. You twist Timberlaine hard enough, I’ll bet you’d find the idea of having someone else bid did not originate with him.”
“Right. They planted the idea. That’s obvious. But why does that implicate Crumbly?”
“Burdett’s testimony was that the deception did not fool him in the least.”
“Right,” Vaulding said. “It was only meant to fool Timberlaine.”
Steve grinned. “Right. But from Timberlaine’s point of view it was supposed to work. According to Burdett’s testimony there was no way it could have worked. Crumbly didn’t bid on that kind of gun and Crumbly never bid that high.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So Crumbly had to know that. He’s not stupid. But here he is, agreeing with Timberlaine to go along with this great scheme. Bullshit. Crumbly more than anyone else knew that his bidding on that gun was out of character for him and would tip Burdett off. Yet he did it. Why? Because that was the whole point. To furnish a motive for Timberlaine killing Potter. You dig around, I’m sure you’ll find the idea that Potter tipped off Burdett was indirectly planted by one of the conspirators too.”
“Yeah, right,” Vaulding said. He hesitated.
“That’s not enough for you?” Steve said. “What about Martin Kessington having the key to the gun room so he had the opportunity of switching guns? Or Crumbly and his wife being gun collectors, and therefore having the avenues to move them? Plus what Burdett said about the Crumblys not having any money, which is why they’d get involved in the ripoff in the first place.”
“All right, all right,” Vaulding said, putting up his hands. “I’ll take it from there.” He took a breath. “Look, I took a chance on you, I’m glad I did. Thanks.”
Vaulding stuck out his hand. Steve shook it.
Vaulding nodded to Mark, “Mr. Taylor,” then to Tracy, “Ms. Garvin,” then hurried out the door.
“How about that,” Tracy said. “He actually called me Ms.”
“Nothing surprising about that,” Steve said. “When we made our deal, it was practically a prerequisite.”
“Well, I’d still have liked to hear him say it in open court.”
“Take what you can get,” Taylor said. “Well, whaddya say we get out of here?”
“Hang on,” Steve said. “Give Vaulding a chance to get the reporters in tow. I don’t feel like walking out of here into the arms of the press.”
“You and me both,” Taylor said. “You can bet one of them would be bound to ask the wrong question.”
“Yeah, like what happened to the other gun,” Tracy said.
Mark Taylor almost gagged. He threw up his hands, then put his finger to his lips.
“What’s wrong with you?” Steve said.
“Oh, nothing. But this is not our office, and who knows what sort of equipment our host has.”
“Relax,” Steve said. “Even if Vaulding recorded every word we said, I guarantee you there is nothing that would make him go back on what he’s telling the press right now.”
“Even so.”
“Oh, don’t be such a worry wart,” Tracy said. “Tell me, what are you going to do about that gun?”
“There isn’t a river deep enough,” Taylor said. “Right, Steve?”
Steve considered a moment. “Actually, Mark, I thought I’d hang it on the wall.”
Taylor’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Yeah. Don’t you think it would look good over my desk?”
“Steve, don’t joke. You don’t know how much sleep I’ve lost over that gun.”
“Who’s joking? Safest place for it. Look, if I try to get rid of it and get caught, I’m screwed. No way I can ever explain. If I hang it on the wall, no one will give it a second thought. People who make the connection at all will say, ‘Hey, is that a gun from the Pistol Pete case? You handled that, didn’t you?’ I’ll just smile and say, ‘Yes, I did.’ After all, there’s so many guns in the damn case, no one’s gonna figure out which one this is.”
Taylor exhaled noisily. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “I hope you’re pulling my leg. But what the hell. Right now I’m so relieved I couldn’t care. Listen, we gotta stay here, I need a drink. This hotshot D.A. got a bar?”