“I’d like to speak to your client.”
“We’ll see. And this CD is footage from an ATM where Ms. McCoy was filmed entering Tate’s bar in San Francisco and leaving with someone who is not my client, because he was in Las Vegas.”
“He was embarrassed by the publicity she brought down on him, and he ran here to his ranch.”
“Embarrassed? Quite the opposite. He was prepared to support her and the child, once the baby was born and a blood test determined he was the father. He offered her a lot of money. If she went to the press to embarrass him, all it did was make him move from his downtown condominium to his ranch so he could work in peace. You do know that Disruptive Technologies is close to doing what their name says and upsetting the way we communicate. Turning everything on its ear—literally.”
“Why was he harassing her?”
“He has had zero communication with Ms. McCoy except through me, and I assure you, I didn’t speak to her.”
Robards sighs. “Since you’ve shared all your client’s cards, I’ll show you some of mine. Your client emailed Ms. McCoy on six separate occasions with threats.”
“I’d like to have those sent to me electronically so I can verify their geo-tag.”
“I’ve already done that, and they were sent from right here in Lewiston.”
“The geo-tag for the ranch isn’t Lewiston. It’s Crow Nation,” Molly whispers to me.
I didn’t even realize she was standing next to me. I give her a thumbs up.
“I also have some of his DNA found at the scene in her apartment. Your client has a private airstrip I drove by, doesn’t he?”
“He does.”
“Has your client been here the entire time?”
“For the most part, but he’s not under house arrest. He traveled to Denver, Colorado, a little over a month ago. I can provide you with flight manifests and signed affidavits by the staff here—”
“They’re on his payroll. Those are worth nothing.”
“They may be on his payroll, but they’re kind and honest people who would happily verify that my client was here when he says he was.”
“He still threatened her,” Robards insists.
“That remains to be seen. My client is a man of great wealth who may have been a little cavalier with his personal life. Ms. McCoy is not the first to place a bullseye on his back, looking for a big payday. She also won’t be the last. But let me assure you, he isn’t worried. And before you go, here’s the contract I sent to her, and this is the receipt she signed upon delivery.”
“I’d like to speak to your client now.”
I hear Fiona walk toward the door we’re standing behind. We step back as she opens it.
Fiona steps close to me and whispers, “He doesn’t have anything, and I’m pretty sure the documents he has are fake.”
I tell her what Molly said about the geo-tag for the ranch.
She nods. “That’s great. Let’s keep that to ourselves for now. We’re going to walk back out there, and you can answer his questions, but don’t expand. If he asks if you’ve been here the whole time, you answer no. You don’t offer where you’ve been.”
I nod. “Got it.”
I follow her into the living room and lay eyes on Detective Robards for the first time. He’s probably in his late thirties, if I had to guess. Blond hair and blue eyes. He’s almost unmemorable—he’d be great for undercover work, as he seems to blend in with his surroundings.
He doesn’t shake my hand, just hands me his business card. “You’re not only hiding in Montana, but you’re hiding behind your lawyer.”
I don’t respond.
“Cat got your tongue?” he jabs.
“I’m sorry, was that a question?” Fiona asks.
“Why are you in Montana, Mr. Walsh?”
“To work,” I say.
“You can’t work in your offices in San Francisco?”
“No.”
“Why is that, Mr. Walsh?” Detective Robards asks.
“My business partners and I thought this would have fewer distractions.”
“Who are your business partners?”
“My sister, Claire Walsh, Tinsley Pratt, and Sullivan Healy Newhouse is our investor.”
“I understand Ms. Pratt is here with you?” Detective Robards says.
“Yes.”
“You’re a man of many words, Mr. Walsh.”
I look at him.
“He’s answering your questions, Detective,” Fiona not so subtly reminds him.
His questions continue for over an hour. I get the feeling he isn’t used to people who claim to be innocent and don’t overshare. For the most part, he gets yes or no answers from me.
When he circles back and begins to ask the same questions a second time, Fiona steps in. “I think we’ve answered all your questions. Thank you for coming out. If you’d like to speak with my client again, please call me at the number on the card.”
“I’m not done with my questions,” Detective Robards, says looking a little panicked.
“What else do you want to know?” Fiona asks.
“Is Ms. Pratt your lover?” he blurts.
“You’re done. Goodbye, Detective,” Fiona says as she stands.
“Ms. Pratt could be behind this.”
Fiona smiles. “If you can link her to this, you let me know, because I’m her lawyer, too.”
Frank appears and opens the front door for Detective Robards, who reluctantly goes.
As he steps outside, Fiona stands in the doorway. “Thank you for coming, Detective. Please be sure to contact United States Attorney Walker Clifton about my client’s alibi. I’ll make sure he’s expecting your call.”
Molly stands at the side window. “That man is pissed, as he well should be—at himself.” She shakes her head in disgust.
“I know you couldn’t see him, but he was surprised at the information I gave him,” Fiona says, closing the door. “Walker Clifton’s affidavit was on top, but Robards isn’t done with this
