Chapter56
MCBRIDE HAD TO BE BACK in the office for a press briefing on the investigation. I needed to figure out why the killer had come to Cleveland, and what, if any, connections there were to our murders back in San Francisco. The next step was to talk to the parents of the bride. Shaker Heights was a posh, upper-end suburb in the height of midsummer bloom. On every street, green lawns led up to graceful, tree-sheltered homes. One of McBride's men drove me out while Raleigh went back to the Lakefront Hilton to meet with the family of the groom. The Koguts' home was a warm redbrick Normandy under a canopy of tall oaks. I was met at the door by the older sister of the bride, who introduced herself as Hillary Bloom. She sat me down in a comfy, picture-filled den: books, large screen TV, pictures of the two of them as kids, weddings. "Kathy was always the rebellious one," Hillary explained. "A free spirit. It took her a while to find herself, but she was just settling down. She had a good job- a publicist for a firm in Seattle. Where she met James. She was just coming around." "Coming around from what?" I asked. "Like I said- she was a free spirit. That was Kathy." Her parents, Hugh and Christine Kogut, came into the room. I witnessed the glazed, bewildered shock of people whose lives had been shattered. "She was always in and out of relationships," her mother eventually admitted. "But she also had a passion for life." "She was just young," her father said. "Maybe we spoiled her too much. She always had an urge to experience things." In her pictures- the wispy red hair and dare-me eyes- I could see the same joy for life the killer had obviously seen in his first two victims. It made me feel sad, weary. "Do you know why I'm here?" I finally asked. The father nodded. "To determine if there was any connection to those other horrible crimes out west." "So, can you tell me, did Kathy have any connection to San Francisco?" I could see a cast of grim recognition creep its way onto their faces. "After college, for a few years, she did live there," her mother said. "She went to UCLA," her father said. "For a year or so she stayed in Los Angeles. Tried to catch on with one of the studios. She started out with a temp job at Fox. Then she got this publicity job in San Francisco, covering music. It was a very fast life. Parties, promotions, no doubt a lot worse. We weren't happy, but for Kathy, she thought it was her big break." She lived in San Francisco. I asked if they had ever heard of Melanie Weil or Rebecca Passeneau. They shook their heads. "What about any relationships that might've ended badly? Someone, who out of jealousy or obsession, might've wanted to do her harm?" "Recklessness always seemed like a basis for Kathy's relationships," Hillary said with an edge. "I did warn her." Her mother shook her head. "She always wanted to do things on her terms." "Did she ever mention anyone special from the time she lived in San Francisco?" Everyone looked at Hillary. "No. No one special." "No one stands out? She lived there for a while. She didn't keep up with anyone after she left?" "I seem to remember her saying she still went down there every once in a while," her father said. "On business." "Old habits are hard to crack." Hillary smirked, with a tightening of her lips. There had to be some connection. Some contact from the years she had spent there. Someone came all the way here to see her dead. "What about anyone from San Francisco invited to the wedding?" I asked. "There was one girlfriend," her father said. "Merrill," said her mother. "Merrill Cole. Shortley, now. I think she's at the Hilton, if she's still here." I pulled out the artist's sketch we had of the killer's possible appearance. "I know it's rough, but do you know this man? Someone who knew Kathy? Did you see anyone like this at the wedding?" One by one, the Koguts shook their heads. I got up to go. I told them if anything came to mind, regardless of how small or insignificant, to get in touch with me. Hillary walked me to the door. "There is one more thing," I said. I knew it was a long shot. "By any chance, did Kathy buy her wedding dress in San Francisco?" Hillary looked at me blankly and shook her head. "No, from a vintage shop. In Seattle." At first, the answer deflated me. But then, in a flash, I saw that this was really a connection I was looking for. The first two murders had been committed by someone stalking his victims from afar. That's why he found them in the way he did. Tracked them. But this one, Kathy, she had been chosen in a different way. I was certain that whoever had done this had known her.
Chapter57
I DROVE STRAIGHT TO THE HILTON on Lake Shore Boulevard and was able to catch Merrill Shortley just as she was about to depart for the airport. She turned out to be stylish, maybe twenty-seven, with shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair tied back in a bun. "A group of us were up all night," she said, apologizing for the swollen lines around her face. "I'd like to stay on, but who knows when they'll finally release the body. I have a one-year-old." "The Koguts told me you live in San Francisco." She sat on the edge of the bed across from me. "Los Altos. I moved down two years ago, when I got married." "I need to know about Kathy Kogut in San Francisco," I explained. "Lovers. Breakups. Someone who might have a cause to do this." "You think she knew this madman?" Her face was clenched. "Maybe, Merrill. You can help us decide. Will you help?" "Kathy hooked up with guys," Merrill said after a pause. "She was always free about things in that way." "Are you saying she was promiscuous?" "If you want to see it that way. Men liked her. There was a lot of energy going on back then. Music, film. Alternative stuff. Whatever made her feel alive." I was getting the picture. "Does that include drugs?" "Like I said, whatever made her feel alive. Yes, Kathy did recreational drugs." Merrill, though pretty, had the hard-edged face of a street survivor who had remade herself as a soccer mom. "Anyone come to mind who might've wanted to hurt her? Someone who was overly fascinated? Maybe jealous when she moved on?" Merrill thought a bit, shook her head. "I don't think so." "You two were close?" She nodded. At the same time, her eyes hooded. "Why did she move away?" "She landed a great job. Must've seemed like she was finally climbing the ladder. Her father and mother always wanted that. The Shaker Heights thing. Look, I really have to catch a plane." "What are the chances Kathy was running away from something?" "You live the way we lived, you're always running from something." Merrill Shortley shrugged and looked bored. There was an attitude, a coldness about Merrill I didn't like. She still surrounded herself with the cynical aura of a dissolute past. And I had the suspicion she was withholding something. "So what'd you do, Merrill? Marry the dime-bag mambo king of Silicon Valley?" She shook her head. Finally, she smiled thinly. "Fund manager." I leaned forward. "So you don't remember anyone special? Someone she might've kept up with? Been scared of?" "Those years," Merrill Shortley said, "I have a hard time remembering anyone special at all." "This was your friend," I said, my voice rising. "You want me to show you what she looks like now?" Merrill stood up, stepped over to the dresser, and began to pack a leather bag with toiletries and makeup. At some point, she stopped and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Then she looked over her shoulder and caught my eye. "Maybe there was this one guy Kathy was into. Big shot. Older. She said I'd know who he was- but she wouldn't give me a name. I think she met him through the job. As I remember, he was married. I don't know how it ended. Or who ended it. Or if it ever did." My adrenaline began to flow. "Who is he, Merrill? He might have killed your friend." She shook her head. "You ever see this man?" She shook her head again. I pushed on. "You're the one friend from back then she invites to her wedding and you never met him once? You don't even know a name?" She gave me a cool smile. "She was protective. She didn't tell me everything. Scout's honor, Inspector. I assume he was a public figure." "You see her much in the past couple of years?" Merrill shook her head again. She was being a real bitch. New money in Silicon Valley. "Her father told me she still used to come to town. On business." Merrill shrugged. "I don't know. I have to go." I yanked open my bag and removed one of the crime scene photos McBride had given me, the one of Kathy, wide eyed, slumped in a bloody heap in front of her husband. "Someone she knew did this. You want to be met at the plane and thrown in a holding cell as a material witness? You can call in your husband's lawyer, but it'll still take him two days to get you out. How would the tech-fund crowd react to that news? I'm sure I could get it in the Chronicle." Merrill turned away from me, her chin quivering. "I don't know who it was. Just that he was older, married, some big `:21' time SOB. Kinky, and not nice about it. Kathy said he played sex games on her. But whoever he was, she was always quiet about it, protective. The rest you'll have to do on your own." "She still continued to see this guy, didn't she?" I was starting to put it together. "Even after she moved to Seattle. Even after she met her husband." She gave me the slightest smile. "Good guess, Inspector. Right up to the end." "How close to the end?" Merrill Shortley picked up the phone. "This is four-oh two. Checking out. I'm in a rush." She stood up, slung a Prada bag over her shoulder, an expensive-looking raincoat over her arm. Then she looked at me and said dryly, "To the very end."