Dirty Blonde

“Tattooing from the gunpowder, against the temple. Looks like a starburst. Shows that the gun was fired at close range. Gun fired that close should produce a lot of blowback. This didn’t. So your guy tripped up.” Russo’s injured face twisted. “He fooled them but he can’t fool me.”

“Right. You’re a genius, that’s why you drove off a cliff. Now tell me this, Einstein. Why would Marz let somebody put their hand over his and shoot him?”

“He was drunk. Anybody coulda done it.”

“He was drunk?” Cate asked, surprised. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“We smelled it on him. We found booze in the car. The test’ll come back with levels, if it’s not back already.”

Cate considered it. “Still, it’s consistent with suicide.”

“That’s what Nesbitt says, but I know Rich. He drank on the sly. His liver would show it. I guarantee the autopsy shows it.” Russo tried to lift his head but couldn’t. “Gimme my dinner!”

“He drank?”

“Hid it real well, but I know the signs. I used to be a drunk myself. He popped Altoids and got lost for a stretch now and then.”

Cate thought of what Sarah had said. Richard frequently went off alone, to think. “Did you ever confirm this with him?”

“Huh?” Russo seemed to grow suddenly tired and almost cooperative.

“Did you ever ask Marz if he drank?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He’s an Orthodox Jew. What do you think he’s gonna say? I want my dinner!” Russo raised his head, then gave up and put it back down again. “Why you askin’ these questions? Why’d you come anyway? Get outta here.” Russo shouted, “Yo, rookie! Rookie!”

The door opened, and the young cop stuck his head inside. “Yes, Detective?”

Russo pointed at Cate. “Get her outta here. She’s got my dinner.”

“He’s delusional, he’ll be fine,” Cate said, getting up, shooing the cop out, and closing the door behind him. She rolled the tray to Russo and folded her arms. “Here’s your dinner, you big baby. Buon appetito.”

Russo blinked, or at least his swollen eyes twitched.

“Aw. Can’t you feed yourself?”

Russo dropped his bandaged head backwards into the pillow.

“What a pity. Didn’t think of that, did you?”

“Please, God,” Russo said to the ceiling.

“You’re breakin’ my heart. Any other evidence?”

“Are you serious?” Russo’s eyes slid to Cate. “You know you hired that guy to do it.”

“Wrong. What else you got? That delicious meal sits right in front of you and you can’t even eat a bite. That’s ironic.”

“I’ll fix you.” Russo lifted his head, fumbled for the call button, and pressed it with a thumb. “The nurse’ll come. She’ll feed me.”

“Not gonna happen. They’re busy. I know, I was just out there.”

“We’ll see about that.” Russo kept pressing the button.

“Why don’t you ask the Boy Wonder at the door? Maybe he’ll feed you.”

“That’s too gay.”

So enlightened. “You’re going to prison. Think of it as orientation.”

Russo stopped chuckling.

“Tell me about the videotape. You’ve seen it. Why don’t you think it’s Marz?”

“I could just tell. The guy on the videotape didn’t walk like Rich. Rich walks fast. The guy in the cap walked slow.”

“He was going to shoot somebody. Maybe he needed to take aim.”

“Not point-blank. It wasn’t Rich.”

“Let me ask you a question. Could it have been a woman?”

Russo paused. “Possible.”

Micah.

“But it wasn’t. It was the guy you hired.” Russo kept pressing the call button.

“Where did Marz go after the verdict?”

“To get loaded.”

“How do you know?”

“I watched him, I knew his habits. He had his routines, we all do, especially drunks. When things went bad with the writing, or we got another rejection letter, he’d disappear.”

“You know where?”

“No.”

“Another woman?”

“No. The bottle.”

Cate considered it. “You said they found booze in the car. What else did they find?”

“The gun, and that’s another thing.”

“Tell me.”

“It was a revolver, a Rossi. Looked new, like it was bought in a store.”

“Okay, what’s wrong with that? Rich wouldn’t have been able to buy a gun from the street, even his wife said that.”

“I checked the two gun shops in town, the one in Old City and one in South Philly. Neither had sold to Marz.”

“Maybe he bought it in the suburbs.”

“I checked ten others in the area, none of them had, either. Also, the gun we found in the car had the serial number filed down, so it couldn’t be traced. Why would Rich do that, if he was going to shoot himself?”

“Maybe when he shot Simone he didn’t know if he’d shoot himself.”

“Rich didn’t even know enough about guns to scratch off the serial number. I had to tell him those things for the scripts. He didn’t know anything about guns. In one of his first drafts, he had a revolver with a safety on.”

“So?”

“Revolvers don’t have safeties.”

“I knew that.” But Micah could have bought the gun and filed the number off. And she’d know about doing that from the TV show. “So what else did they find on him? A wallet?”

“Yes.”

“Cell phone?”

Russo stopped. “I don’t remember.”

Bet not. Cell phones show who called you last. Cate pulled her chair over to the bed, picked up the fork from the dinner tray, and stabbed a piece of white meat.

“Come on, Judge. Gimme a break.” Russo raised his raspy voice. “I’m starvin’ here.”

“Shut up.” Cate found the foot pedal, raised the top half of the bed, and stuck the chicken in Russo’s face. “Eat this before I stab you.”

“This a trick?” Russo peered down at the chicken, his bruised chin going triple.

“Eat!”

Russo took a bite and chewed, wincing as he swallowed.

And just at that moment, the door to the hospital room burst open.

CHAPTER 44