Double Shot

“That’s super. She’s great.” Then I tensed. “That’s not a conflict of interest for you, is it? I mean, those detectives were acting as if she was a suspect, too.”

“If Marla needs a lawyer, she can get her own. You’re my client.” Brewster whizzed onto the interstate. “Goldy,” he said, “could you give me a quick history of your marriage to, and divorce from, Dr. Korman?”

And so I did. There was this glamorous, charismatic medical student, the story always began, and yours truly, spellbound at nineteen, hadn’t been a very good judge of character. Yes, I said bitterly, the sheriff’s department still had my complaints on file. Not that my pleas for help had done any good, since in those days a spouse had to agree to press charges, something I was reluctant to do. Even after we were divorced, John Richard had continued his brash and brutal ways with women, until he’d finally been thrown in jail. A prison sentence actually, that he’d been serving in the Furman County Jail because the penitentiary at Canon City was overcrowded. But being incarcerated hadn’t ended his ability to attract women.

“How long has he known Courtney MacEwan?”

“He’s probably known her for eight or nine years. The way I heard it, as soon as he got out, he called her to go out for coffee, which became lunch, which became a tennis game, which became a whirlwind affair.”

Brewster nodded. “I know the firm that handled her husband’s will. She got about twenty million.”

“And don’t think John Richard wasn’t aware of that.” I recounted all I’d learned from Marla, how John Richard had promised Courtney they’d get married as soon as possible. But then he’d balked—because of Arch, he claimed. How Marla and I suspected, but weren’t sure, that Courtney had been bankrolling John Richard’s reentry into society. Until he dumped her, that is. Then we thought he might have started borrowing money. And Courtney had been pissed.

“I read about it in Cecelia Brisbane’s gossip column in the Journal,” Brewster mused.

I groaned. As soon as I’d seen Cecelia’s cruel column from Friday, the fifth of May, I’d snatched the newspaper and stuffed it in the garbage before Arch could see it. The column had read, “What cute doctor is back out on the golf course, wearing plus fours over his prison suit? And what well-moneyed tennis-playing widow is getting to know him (in the biblical sense, dear readers!) when the two of them leave the club and zip over to their love nest?”

How could people get away with this kind of stuff? I’d wondered. And is this what Cecelia had meant today, when she’d said John Richard was up to his old tricks? I did not know. Arch, studying for his final exams, had either not seen the “cute doctor” column or not cared. I doubted the latter.

“So when did he break up with Courtney?” Brewster asked.

“Arch called one Saturday and asked me to come get him at John Richard’s house. His dad was busy packing boxes, he said. The next thing I knew, Courtney was out and a new girlfriend had been installed.”

“His new girlfriend? You mentioned her to the cops.”

“Sandee with two e s, as she calls herself. Her last name is Blue. Supposedly, John Richard met her in the country-club golf shop, but she doesn’t look like any lady golfer I’ve ever seen.” Brewster gave me a questioning look. “They’re usually svelte and trim. Long and lean. Sandee’s short and buxom, and dresses, if you could call it that, to show off her figure. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Brewster grunted. “And then Courtney showed up at the lunch today. And John Richard was there. With Sandee?”

“Yup.”

“Any chance that John Richard could have just dumped Sandee? Or that Sandee might have another boyfriend?”

“Very unlikely that he just dumped her. I don’t know if Sandee has any other love interest. But I do know this: John Richard and Sandee were smooching and snuggling very openly at the funeral lunch, all under the jealous eye of Courtney.” Had I seen anyone else eyeing them? I wasn’t sure. Had anyone been taking photographs at the lunch? I thought I remembered a flashbulb or two, but couldn’t recall who’d been taking pictures, or when. But I did remember something else. “Brewster, when Courtney came into the kitchen, she said, ‘He owes me.’ I thought she meant in a general sense, but maybe that means Marla is right, and she was bankrolling him.”

Brewster nodded. We crested the apex of the interstate and shot beneath the Ooh-Ah Bridge, so named because of its panoramic view of the Continental Divide. In this year of drought, only tiny snowcaps clung to the dull brown peaks. Possible good news, weather wise, was rising from the west: A steep bank of clouds moving our way might bring real rain, and not the dreaded virga. Virga, as the meteorologists were always telling us, was distinguishable as a dark, vertical band descending from storm clouds, but not reaching the ground. The rain fell, but evaporated in midair.

“Okay,” Brewster said. “Now just a couple of quick questions. Who’s this Vikarios fellow?”

I told him about Ted Vikarios, former co–department head at Southwest Hospital. He and his peer, Albert Kerr, had both left doctoring to pursue a calling to be…well, what would you call it? “More religious,” I said finally. “Albert became a priest, and Ted made tapes.”

“Victory over Sin?” Brewster asked. “I remember those. He was down in Colorado Springs, wasn’t he? I heard he made a mint, then lost it all because of some scandal.”

“That he did. But John Richard only went to the Springs on rare occasions, and as far as I know, they hadn’t seen each other in thirteen, fourteen years.”

Brewster nodded. “They’ll be looking at all of Korman’s known associates, including the guys he hung out with at the jail. Okay. So what’s this about there being a problem that Arch wasn’t with you when you discovered Dr. Korman’s body?”

I explained my inadvertent use of the word let’s, as in, “Let’s try one more time.” Then I’d impulsively told Arch to wait while I went to check the garage. I’d related all this to the detectives, back at John Richard’s house. Now they were acting as if I’d killed my ex-husband and realized I had to spare my son the sight of his dead father.

Brewster grinned again but kept his eyes on the road. “Speaking of names. You and Marla need to quit using that moniker, the Jerk. Try to stop even thinking it, ’cuz you really don’t want it to slip out inadvertently.”

I sighed. “What happens next?

Brewster chewed his bottom lip. “Do you have any ideas who might have attacked you this morning? Besides your ex-husband. Did he have enemies in jail? Or friends?”

“I don’t know. He pretty much defined me as his main enemy, the one who’d ruined his life. He…threatened to try to get full custody of Arch, but he always did that. He just didn’t like to pay child support. I’ve come to think he just liked to argue.”

“Did he fight with everybody?”

“Eventually.”

“This morning…when you made your report to the police? After the attack?” When I nodded, Brewster went on: “How about this. Someone wants to frame you for Korman’s death. So they attack you and sabotage your food. You’re going to think it’s Korman, and be furious and suspicious. He’s going to be as mean as he usually is, so when the two of you see each other at the lunch, there are more than the predictable fireworks. And then the killer somehow manages to get your gun and shoots Korman, knowing that you’ll be bringing Arch over. The person who finds the body usually is the prime suspect.”

“I know, I know.” I looked out the window and thought. “What happens when they trace the gun to me?”

“They might come up to your house, bully you, threaten you some more. Before you say a word, call me. Then wait for me to show up.” A blast of dust hit the Mercedes. “You know, they’re going to be doing ballistics tests on the bullets they take out of your ex-husband. They’ll also be checking with Dr. Korman’s neighbors about shots being fired. What did they see and hear, and when? And don’t forget the fellow who wanted his money. They need to check on everything to build any kind of case, trust me.”

“All right.”

Brewster concentrated on the road for a bit, then asked, “Is there anyone who can vouch for your being at the Summit rink in Lakewood at two o’clock?”