So he had run a DMV check on me. And Briana was killed in a hit-and-run accident. Didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was headed. “Yes, I drive a Karmann Ghia. It’s at home in our driveway, without any damage to the front end.”
He smiled again. Now Frank was smiling, too.
“He’s probably got someone over at the house, taking a look at it right now,” Frank said.
He nodded. “And I had a look at the Volvo on the way in. But neither of your cars matches the description witnesses gave of the vehicle that struck your aunt, Ms. Kelly.”
“Which was?”
“Sorry, I’d prefer not to say. It’s an open case, Ms. Kelly, and for the moment we have all the detectives we need on it.”
Polite or no, the guy was starting to irritate me.
“Do you remember what you were doing the morning of Wednesday the eighteenth?” he asked. “That’s two weeks ago.”
“Working. I work for the
“You were in the office?”
“Yes. Most weeks, on Tuesday nights, I cover the city council meetings. I turn in what I can on Tuesday night, but if the meeting goes later than my final deadline or some item needs a follow-up, I write about it on Wednesday.”
“And you’re certain you were writing about the city council meeting on that Wednesday morning?”
“Yes. Two weeks ago they took the final vote on the sale of some park land. It was hotly debated. The meeting ran late.”
“You don’t get to sleep in on Wednesdays after covering evening meetings?”
“Sometimes. I’ve worked at the paper for a number of years, so I’m not punching a clock. In general, I get to decide how I use my time- provided I meet my deadlines. As long as I continue to produce my stories on time, no one will hassle me much. But that day I needed to contact some sources I can only reach during business hours, so I showed up at about eight that morning. Lots of people can verify that.”
“What brings Irene into this?” Frank asked again. “For more than twenty years, she’s had no contact with this aunt. She didn’t even learn that Briana Maguire had died until a little more than an hour ago.”
McCain seemed surprised. “Your aunt Mary didn’t tell you before today?”
“No.”
“Ms. Kelly, what are your expectations of Ms. Maguire’s estate?”
“Expectations?” I asked, taken aback. “From Briana? Why, absolutely none.”
“But you were a favorite niece, weren’t you?”
“Look, about two dozen years have gone by since I last saw her. There was a family quarrel, even before her other troubles started.”
“Other troubles?”
“You undoubtedly know which ones I mean.”
He paused, then said, “Yes, your aunt Mary has been very helpful. Ms. Kelly, several times your husband has asked me what brings you into this matter. Are you aware that your aunt left a will?”
“No. As I said-”
“Yes, yes. But she did leave a will, Ms. Kelly. A holographic will. You know what that means?”
“A will written entirely in her handwriting,” I said.
“Yes. We found it today, among the papers in her apartment.”
“She died two weeks ago and you just searched her apartment today?”
“Keep in mind that we didn’t know who she was until a few days ago, Ms. Kelly. Our first concern was to find someone who could provide positive identification of the victim and claim her body, someone who could arrange for her burial. Given our caseloads in this division, I don’t think we’ve done too badly.”
“No, no, I’m sorry. So you found a handwritten will leaving everything to her son-”
“Oh, no, Ms. Kelly. Nothing was left to her son.”
“What?”
“Briana Maguire’s will leaves everything to you.”
5
“It doesn’t appear to be much of an estate, I’ll grant you,” he went on. “But we haven’t really had time to check for assets. You know, sometimes you read about these hermits who live very simply, but end up having a million bucks stashed away in a savings account somewhere.”
“Brilliant,” Frank said angrily. “You think this single mother who worked as a file clerk was a millionaire? A woman who was living on disability checks?”
McCain shrugged.
“No matter how much she did or didn’t have,” I said, “I don’t want any of it. And I have no idea why she named me in her will.”
McCain studied me for a moment, then seemed to come to some decision; he appeared to relax a little. He asked me a few more questions about my childhood relationship with Briana, then said, “Any idea why someone might want to kill her?”
“No. I don’t know anything about her recent life that Mary didn’t tell me tonight. As I said, I haven’t been in touch with Briana in a long time.”
“You’re certain this was premeditated?” Frank asked.
“Not absolutely. But a couple of things bothered us about it, or I wouldn’t be here,” McCain said, seeming to loosen up a little more. “First, a high rate of speed, coming down a street that isn’t exactly known for drag racing. Second, no skid marks-and yes, maybe the car had antilock brakes, but we’ve got two wits that say the car didn’t stop at all. You and I both know that very few people would accidentally hit someone and never apply the brakes.” He turned to me. “Most hit-and-run drivers are surprised, you might say-they stop or try to stop at some point. Maybe panic sets in or they have some reason for avoiding the police- drugs in the car, car’s stolen, they’ve got warrants out on ‘em, whatever-so they take off after they realize what they’ve done. But they seldom just hit somebody and keep rolling as if nothing’s happened. In this case, no one heard brakes or saw the driver swerve to avoid her.”
“Any chance the driver just didn’t see her?” I asked.
“Your aunt was in the middle of an intersection on a bright and sunny morning, wearing light-colored clothing. The direction of the vehicle’s travel was away from the sun, so nothing impaired the driver’s vision. In fact, the witnesses say that after the initial impact, the driver deliberately drove the car over her after she was down.”
I shuddered.
“The witnesses give you a make on the vehicle?” Frank asked.
“They can’t agree on the make, but between what they’ve given us and some of the physical evidence, we think we’re looking for a Camry.” He paused, then looked over at me. “As I said, the witnesses agreed that it looked deliberate. The vehicle wasn’t out of control-it maneuvered to hit her. The car hits her, knocks her down, rolls over her, and drags her body a few yards. The collision breaks a headlamp and does some other damage to the car, and makes a noise loud enough to bring people running out of a little store on the corner. No brake lights, no slowing, no horn.”
Even though I hadn’t seen her in a long time, it was hard for me to hear this description, to imagine someone doing that to Briana. Frank took my hand. I held on.
After a moment, McCain said, “Any idea where your cousin is these days?”
“Travis? No.”
“Your aunt’s ex-husband?”
“He wasn’t really her husband. But no, I don’t know anything about him.”
He asked a few more questions, then walked over to the kitchen door.
As he opened it, it was clear from both her startled expression and her nearness to the door that Mary had
