She Cradled the Smoking Gun: Ch 10
Stone talks over what could have happened during the murder, Lisa Kaye confronts an agonizing truth.
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There was absolutely nothing to suggest that Paul Kaye was murdered by some outside attacker. The assailant didn’t ambush from the hallway or a side room. Given the angle of the wound and where the body fell, the assailant had to have shot from behind.
Stone was deep in thought and didn’t notice the traffic buzzing by the hamburger stand.
“You not eating?” Jake Sharpe, Stone’s partner on the force and longtime friend, finished a French fry.
“I’m thinking.”
“I’d been thinking about eating, but now I’m done.” Jake sounded relaxed. “Do you think the killer could have confronted Kaye in his bedroom?”
“Possibly. This one has me baffled.”
“And no sign of a struggle?”
“None whatsoever. The bed looked like it was slept in with a blanket and sheets pulled back. Everything looked normal.”
“So instead of this assailant being a stranger, the person may very well have known Paul Kaye. Someone Kaye was familiar with and trusted?”
“Could be.” Stone finally picked up the burger and took a bite.
Jake continued. “What if Kaye wasn’t running down the steps trying to escape? What if someone had come into the house, woke him up, and told him he was needed for something, and shot him with his back turned as they went down the stairs?”
Stone swallowed and put the burger on the plate. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been wondering. Just like you said.” Stone drummed his fingers on the table. “But why wait? Why not just shoot him in the bedroom, if that’s where he was?”
“I don’t know. Too much of a mess? Here’s something real simple. What if someone rang the bell, he came down and opened the door, and it was a home invasion gone bad.” Jake tapped his fingers on the table. “And the killer sped off into the dark.”
“That’s a valid theory, Jake, but the door was locked when the maid showed up so something tells me that wasn’t the case.”
The body was at an angle like Kaye had turned from the front door. Stone tried to envision Lisa Kaye driving from Santa Barbara, stepping into her own house, and pulling a trigger.
Maybe. But it didn’t seem to fit. Nothing seemed to fit.
Stone bit into the burger and a drop of grease fell onto his shirt.
The sun always seemed shiny and brilliant in Calabasas, a collection of modern McMansions west of Encino, and the inland neighbor to Malibu and home to the highest of high-income earners in LA. Morgan said she was driving back from a photo shoot in Malibu and had questions.
Lisa agreed to meet at a boutique coffee shop she knew well and requested an area on the back patio and asked the owner that no other tables be within several feet. “A reporter wants an interview about my roses,” she lied.
“Yes, of course, Mrs. Kaye.” The coffee shop owner was polite and knew to keep her distance. That’s how relationships were among the wealthiest of the wealthy. Few would ever let down their guard. Appearances had their own equity and the need to look sturdy and successful was vital to keeping social connections.
Lisa texted Morgan and sat, fiddling with her phone, and sipping her latte until the model appeared in her tight jeans and blouse, moving gracefully through the front doors, between the tables, and making her way to the counter where she grabbed a drink, and finished her waltzing to the secluded area.
“Hello, Mrs. Kaye,” said Morgan, sliding into a chair. “The apps these days make it so easy to order ahead of time.”
“Yes, they do.” Lisa suddenly felt obsolete in the presence of the much more vibrant woman whose skin was shiny and flawless.
“Thanks for meeting.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “No wonder Paul liked you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You move so easily. Quite graceful. I’m sure you’re also quite graceful when and where it counts.”
Morgan sipped her drink. “For your sake and mine, I’ll ignore that comment.”
“Fine.” Lisa’s icy gaze matched her voice. “What do you want?”
Morgan’s face had a tinge of red. “Paul loved you.”
“I’d hope so. But I wasn’t always so sure.”
“Of course, and I didn’t help matters.” Morgan pulled a folded piece of paper from her purse and handed it to Lisa. “I found this in my apartment.”
Lisa looked and felt her sophistication not just melting but crumbling. “What is it?” She slowly unfolded the note with Paul’s handwriting. So much I never told you, Lisa, but I’ve come to realize how much of a gift you’ve been and how much I love you.
Lisa absorbed the meaning and felt heartache turning to anger. “Is this some sort of sick joke?”
“No.”
Lisa clenched her jaw. “Where’d you get that?”
“In the closet Paul used. It was just lying on the floor. Must have slipped out of his jacket.”
“Oh, so you win,” sneered Lisa, “and get to gloat, don’t you?”
“I’m not gloating. I wanted you to know. It had been weeks since he and I had sex. I spent most of the time listening to him. Listened to his wondering about moving on with you. Listened to him wondering why he had been so selfish. And listened to him wondering why he lost you to another woman.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Your friend, your lover, Selena Thompson.”
“My lover?” Lisa was shocked. “What are you talking about? She’s just my friend.”
“It’s obvious. Everybody knows it. Even Paul thought that[ds1] .”
“Oh, good Lord.” Lisa laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“If you say so.”
“Did you find anything else?”
“No, that’s it.”
“Did you tell Detective Stone?”
“No, I didn’t. I took a photo to give him if I need to.” Morgan did all she could to look Lisa in the eye. “I just wanted to meet with you and let you know that Paul really loved you.”
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