felonies. That's what I mean.'
'That doesn't tell me what happened,' Mason said. 'Did Nick say anything? Was there an argument? Or am I supposed to believe Nick just walked up to King, stuck a gun under his nose, and King took the gun away and shot Nick?'
'Sorry, Counselor. Your client did better than that,' Kolatch said without any sign of regret. 'He was screaming at King about King killing his parents, that he wasn't going to let King get away with murder any more, crap like that. Same kind of threats it turns out he had been making by e-mail, only this time he delivered in person. King grabbed for the gun, it went off. End of story.'
'King tell you about the e-mail?' Mason asked, remembering the copies Sandra Connelly had given him.
'Nope. His lawyer did. Good-looking gal, too, but I'm guessing she'd cut your nuts off for sport. King called her before we got to the scene. She was waiting for us downtown when we brought King in.'
'Did you charge him?'
'With what? Self-defense is the law, Counselor. It isn't against the law.'
Mason looked past Kolatch to Samantha. 'Are those people Nick's grandparents?'
Kolatch nodded. 'Martin and Esther Byrnes. Nice folks.
Don't seem right, though. Having their son and daughter-inlaw murdered, then their grandson pulls a stunt like this. Some kids got no gratitude.'
Mason wanted to assault Kolatch for his charitable disposition. 'You don't cut any slack for a kid who's sleeping in the backseat of the car while his parents are beaten to death outside the car, then grows up knowing that the guy who did it is walking around everyday laughing in his beer about getting away with murder?'
'Whitney King was acquitted. That means he was innocent,' Kolatch said.
'No, that means he wasn't found guilty. That's all it means,' Mason answered. 'How long has Nick been in surgery?'
'About four hours. One of the docs came out a while ago, said they'd be done pretty soon one way or the other.'
'Where'd you learn your bedside manner, Kolatch?' Mason asked. 'A meatpacking plant?'
'Wise guy,' Kolatch said. 'Sam told me.'
'Yeah. She told me there was a witness. Who was it?'
'Can't beat this one,' Kolatch said. 'A priest. Name of Father Steve Ramsey.'
Mason did a double take; his hand on Kolatch's shoulder, betting against an outbreak of priests in Kansas City named Father Steve. 'Short guy, kind of heavy? Smells like an ashtray.' Mason asked. 'Tell me the name again?'
'Father Steve Ramsey,' Kolatch said. 'Hey, you know the guy. Am I right?'
'You've got a keen mind, detective,' Mason answered. 'Sam told me.'
A doctor pushed open the door, pulling his surgical cap off his head, wadding it in his hands, his face as long as
'He's going to make it,' the doctor said. Esther erupted in tears as Martin clamped down harder. 'But we don't know how fully he will recover. The bullet fragmented and part of it is pressing up against his spinal cord. We can't get it out, at least not yet. It's too risky until he's a little stronger.'
'Are you telling us he's going to be a cripple?' Martin Byrnes asked.
The doctor took a deep breath. 'Your grandson is paralyzed and on a ventilator so he can breathe. The next forty-eight hours are critical. If we can keep him stable, go back in and get the rest of the bullet out, and if the cord is only bruised, he'll be okay. If not,' he paused. 'We've got some very good rehabilitation people. Advances are being made every day. I'm sorry,' the doctor added, patting them both on the shoulder as he left.
Samantha motioned Mason out into the hall. 'They don't want to talk to you,' she told him.
'The grandparents?' Mason asked. 'They don't even know who I am.'
'I told them. They think this is all your fault.'
'My fault?' Mason asked. 'Whose gun was it? The grandfather's?'
'He kept it locked up. Nick found the key. Doesn't change anything for them. They said Nick hadn't been able to find a lawyer to take his case until he ran into you at Kowalczyk's execution. They were hoping the statute of limitations would run out and Nick would finally let it go. Then you told him what a great case he had.'
'He does have a great case,' Mason insisted.
'Save it, Lou. I'm not your audience. They said Nick came to see you yesterday. When he came home, he was really upset but wouldn't tell his grandparents why. What hap
pened?'
'Sorry, Sam. You know that's privileged.'
'Bullshit, Lou! Nick told his grandparents someone else was there besides the two of you. Who was it? Blues? Because if it was anybody not on your payroll, there is no privilege.'
Mason knew she was right. The attorney-client privilege only applied to communications between him and Nick. If someone else was present who wasn't part of Mason's legal team, there was no privilege. Still, Mason wasn't going to incriminate his own client. He'd make Samantha work for that.
'Take it up with the judge,' Mason told her.
'That kid is lying in there hooked up to a breathing machine with a bullet stuck against his spinal cord,' Samantha hissed. 'Talk to me!'
'Why? So you can charge him with a couple of felonies, and send him off to a prison hospital for rehabilitation with the rest of the disabled inmates. I'll pass,' Mason told her. 'Sorry I woke you.'
Chapter 20
Mason added Blues to the list of people he woke up in the middle of the night. Only Blues wasn't asleep. He answered on the third ring, an Oscar Peterson CD playing in the background and a woman saying, 'C'mon on, baby.'
'Mary Kowalczyk is missing,' Mason told him.
'She's not over here,' Blues said.
Mason one-upped Blues with his own punch line. 'Nick Byrnes went after Whitney King with a gun he stole from his grandfather. King shot him. Nick's going to live, but there's a good chance he'll be paralyzed.'
'Why you bothering me up with all the good news?' Blues asked.
'Samantha Greer wants to talk to you about what Nick said when you dropped in on us yesterday. She thinks you'll tell her that Nick threatened to kill King. The prosecutor is going to give King the self-defense merit badge, charge Nick with a couple of felonies, and send him to the crippled kid's prison for rehab. That conversation isn't privileged unless you're working for me. I just thought you'd like to know.'
'I hear you,' Blues said, hanging up.
Mason hoped Blues would get off the sidelines. He knew Blues believed that Ryan Kowalczyk was guilty. Any regrets Blues may have had about Kowalczyk's execution focused on doubts about the system, not about Kowalczyk. Mason counted on Mary's disappearance to change Blues's calculus.
Blues had warned Mason about putting Nick in harm's way. Mason hoped Blues would realize he'd given the boy a shove of his own. He knew that Blues wouldn't make any concession speeches or humble apologies. He'd just show up.
Mason caught a few hours' sleep when he got home, stopped at the office to see if it was still there, and tried Mary's house again. It was still empty, the morning paper on the driveway. Mason took it inside, letting himself out the back. He walked the block, knocking on neighbors' doors, asking if anyone had seen Mary.
One man said he saw her leave the house around nine o'clock the morning before, watching her from his garage. He lived across the street and two houses closer to the corner, the route Mary would have taken to the bus stop. She was carrying a purse, the man said, nothing more. The man invited Mason in. Mason gagged on the odor of expired kitty litter; half a dozen cats lounged on the furniture, fur balls rolling across the floor like mini-
