Murder Mystery | Crime Fiction
She Cradled the Smoking Gun: Ch 5
Stone was deciding if Morgan’s grief was real … or expertly acted
Click here for Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4
Morgan Kincaide held her hands to her face and could barely breathe when Stone saw her in the photographer’s studio. “Oh, my God. Why?” Her floral print blouse and jeans skirt did nothing to brighten the mood.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
The studio was in the artsy Silver Lake district and looked like it was built when Los Angeles was young and vibrant, like in the late 1940s or 1950s. Windows were high up the white-washed walls. A soft blue backdrop flowed from the tops of two stands and onto the floor. The photographer stood idly nearby, glancing at his phone acting like he was annoyed that his project was interrupted.
The surroundings raised a question for Stone. “Isn’t it tough working the day after your lover was found shot?”
A clothes rack with changes of dresses was near the wall along with a table full of branded cosmetics. A woman fiddling with brushes and glancing at her phone sat by them. Stone had barged into a print ad shoot.
“Of course.” Morgan ran fingers through her long brunette hair and motioned to the photographer and the make-up artist. “I have to take a break.”
Her face seemed recognizable like so many people in Los Angeles, but Stone had never heard of her before this case. He watched mostly sports and re-runs from the early years of television. Shows like Have Gun will Travel and programs that were relegated to trivia quizzes.
“You asked if it was hard to work today. Yes, but I have commitments to keep and contracts to honor,” she said. “And money to collect. This isn’t going to take too long, is it?”
“It depends on the answers. When you’re done here, then what?”
“Home.” Morgan plopped onto a plush chair. “I feel sick. Completely ill.”
Stone understood. Murder was awful for the family members of the victims and for whoever was in danger of being caught. “What happened when you were at the premiere?”
“Nothing special. Paul had produced a pay-to-view event that was streamed and made some money. A few big names trying to stay visible in a smaller production. He always has so many people who talk to him. He’s always chatting away.”
“And he’s pleasant with everyone?”
Morgan looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“His agency takes in a lot of money. Has lots of billboards around the city. Online projects, too. But it’s not all fun and games, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But he’s never stiffed anyone, if that’s what you mean. Not that I know of.”
“How long were you together?”
“About a year.”
“How would you describe the relationship?”
Morgan rolled her eyes and gave the type of smile that hinted at embarrassment. “Friendship, honestly. I was the model for an ad and he was making sure the client was happy. We chatted and he invited me for drinks.”
“How about sex?”
“Oh, Detective.”
“I’m sorry but these questions have to be asked.”
“Yes, but it took a month or so before we, uh, slept together. That’s why I liked him. He seemed to genuinely be interested in me. And I wasn’t pressuring him for anything. I didn’t want anything from him. I had broken up with a fiancé about a month before he and I met, and I was lonely. LA’s a rotten place to be when you don’t have anyone to enjoy it with.”
“Would you say you were close to him?”
“I got to know things about him, if that’s what you mean. Frustrations in his marriage. Said his wife had no interest in his work and she spent her free time with friends and pruning her rose bushes.”
“Were you around in his business deals?”
“Sometimes, yes.”
“Did you ever hear him argue with anyone or get short-tempered?”
“Honestly? No.”
“Anyone ever get angry with him or accuse him of anything?”
“No shouting matches or anything.” Morgan shrugged. “I let the conversations go in one ear and out the other. Just like the other night.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Oh, this guy Joel Burman, a loudmouth, egotistical maniac, has some reality show premise. He’s got so many so many ideas, no one can keep track of them.” She laughed. “This one is, I think, an organic cooking show concept with local farms harvesting vegetables and herbs and serving diners on their properties. Some silly farm-to-table thing. Burman’s a moron.”
Stone frowned. “Sounds like he got on your nerves.”
“Joel always gets on my nerves. Everyone else, too.” Morgan looked to the side. “He and Paul had some argument over splitting profits.”
“Joel expected the show to make money?”
Morgan scoffed. “The show’s all in Joel’s head. Though he sounded like Paul owed him from past endeavors. And he made sure I wasn’t going to have a part in anything.”
“How did Paul react?”
“Annoyed.” Morgan sighed and looked at Stone. “Can I ask you something? Was he killed at home?”
“Yeah. Early morning.”
She wiped her eyes. “I liked him. I really did. Even loved him.” She huffed. “Damn. I can’t finish this shoot. I got to go.”
“What attracted you to him?”
“He was a good man. He was funny.” She smiled. “He took me out for drinks, dinner, and theater. I’m not stupid and I’m realistic. He had a history with his wife, and I honestly didn’t expect him to leave her.”
“How were you and him, financially?”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “Of course. I’m the young single woman. The golddigger. I had him sign the deed of his house over to me and then I killed him for his equity and life insurance. There.” She pursed her lips. “Feel better, Detective?” Her eyes reddened. “Is it possible to just have a friendship with someone? Yes, we were intimate.” She started crying. “I didn’t take money from him. I didn’t want his money. Or need it.” She sat upright and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll get all the financial information you want. You can see all my deposits.”
“If I feel that’s necessary.” Stone sounded reassuring. “I care about Paul Kaye, too, even though I never met him. And I care about finding out who murdered him.”
Morgan put her face in her hands. “I need to go home. I can’t believe he’s gone.” She grabbed a tissue from a nearby table and wiped the mascara running down her cheek.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” said Stone.
“Of course.”
“You’ve got my card. If you think of any other details, call me.”
She nodded as Stone got up to leave.
Who killed Paul Kaye and why?
Read all chapters of the murder mystery She Cradled the Smoking Gun:
Click here for Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4
For more thrills and adventures, visit About Stone Cold Crime Stories