She Cradled the Smoking Gun: Ch 17
The Kayes’ next-door neighbor saw the car but …
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Neighbors in the Kaye’s area of Encino weren’t very neighborly. Estates with sprawling lawns and gated driveways were meant to keep people away, not invite them in. Stone had asked adjoining properties if they had seen or heard anything unusual but no one had come forward until now.
Esthel Ruport and her husband Clive lived next door to the Kayes. Their front door was half a football field away.
Esthel and Clive had been up early the morning of the murder to catch a flight from Los Angeles to London. They had just returned and agreed that Detective Stone could stop by for a quick interview.
He drove in, parked, and studied the windows on his way to the front door. The Ruport’s driveway was cobblestone and ran along the Kaye’s property line to a garage behind the house. A cluster of three birch trees with distinctive white bark were planted in a grassy strip closest to the Kayes and obscured the view to their front door.
Stone knocked, waited, and took in more details like windows on the second floor.
There was a rattle and the door opened. “Hello, Detective Stone?”
“Hello, Mrs. Ruport?”
“Yes, do come in.” She was older than what he expected and she wore a nicely fitting skirt and blouse that matched her polite British accent and seemed a throwback to a much earlier era.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
“You’re quite welcome, Detective. Terribly dreadful what happened and I do feel so badly for Lisa.” She motioned to a plush chair. “Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine. Just following up and what you may have noticed.”
“Yes, of course. Like I mentioned when I called, we were heading to London. Clive still has connections there with his TV career. I thought he should have retired a long time ago. But comedy, drama.” She sighed. “He’s been fortunate to have made such a nice living as a writer.”
“I’m sure. What did you notice, Mrs. Ruport?”
“A light going on at the front. Like at the front door. We were up around three-thirty. I hate early flights and getting to LAX. The traffic is just dreadful.”
“It certainly is.”
“Anyway, we were getting ready and I could see from our bedroom window that the driveway just lit up. I noticed a car pull in. Not sure the type. Clive was at the front door and said he heard some talking. Couldn’t quite decipher the words. He was at the front door waiting for our Uber driver. Oh, those poor ride-share drivers. How many of them must be writers who didn’t have the good fortune of Clive? Although, Clive is quite talented you know.”
“I’m sure he is. Please continue.”
“So, we get ready to go. Make sure the stove is turned off and the backdoor is locked and Clive is going in and out and tells me to hurry because the Uber is coming.”
“Do you know what time it was?”
“I don’t know exactly. Just after four, I do believe. But I don’t know the exact minute. I step outside and honestly thought I heard like a bang, you know, something falling to the floor?” Worry caught her. “Could that have been the gunshot?”
“Possibly.”
“Oh, my. Then the Uber showed up and we hurried to get our things in. And as we pulled into the street, a car came barreling out of the Kaye’s driveway. Nearly side-swiped us. And our driver yanked his wheel to one side and I bumped up against Clive.” Mrs. Rupert covered her mouth and chuckled. “Why is bumping up against a stranger so much more exciting than against someone you’ve been married to for forty years?”
Stone smiled. “I can imagine. New can seem more exciting.”
“Like a pair of shoes.”
“Excuse me?”
Mrs. Ruport laughed. “Old shoes are comfortable. But new shoes are so much more exciting and fun.”
“I never thought of that.”
“Well, you’re a man after all.” Mrs. Ruport turned serious. “Oh, of all times to joke. I shouldn’t. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s understandable. Humor is important.”
“It is. So true.”
“What happened after your Uber driver was almost hit?”
“Nothing really. We continued on to LAX and made our flight.”
“Did you see if the front light was on or off?”
“No, I didn’t bother to look.”
“Was that helpful, Detective? I’m not sure that it was.”
“Every piece of information is helpful. Is your husband home?”
“No, he’s in Culver City looking over a new project. He stays busy.”
“Could you tell if the people speaking or if the driver of the car was a man or woman?”
Mrs. Ruport furrowed her brow. “No, I really couldn’t, Detective. I’m so sorry.”
“How about the color? Or how many doors?”
“It was dark.”
Stone understood. “But it was a car?”
“Definitely. Like a sedan. Nothing too fancy. Not a sports car. But seemed nice.”
“That’s fine. I appreciate it.”
“I wish I could have been more helpful.”
Stone imagined the scene. “You were helpful, Mrs. Ruport. You certainly were.”
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