Page 81 of Accidental Murder
She clucked her tongue. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “It’s horrible not to know the full story.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Megan enteredthe precinct lunchroom in search of a bottle of water. Captain Wald had been civil to her on the ride back to the station, but she could tell he was stewing. A couple of times he muttered something about an idiot blowing it.Which idiot?Her? One of them?Blowing what?
“Hey, Megan!” Rodrigo yelled from across the room and sauntered to her, burger in hand. “Want some?”
Megan stared at the food and swallowed hard. Not on a bet. Her stomach was in knots. She’d puke. “Thanks, no.” She sidled to the beverage machine.
“Good news.” Rodrigo followed her. “We nailed Norton near his wife’s hideout in Sausalito, but there’s bad news. The scumbag has an alibi for the Jacob Feinstein murder.”
Because Feinstein was one of Kayla Macintyre’s clients, Megan had decided to include every suspect for her murder as a conceivable suspect in Feinstein’s. Of course, he could have been killed for some other reason. His partners hadn’t budged on their stories of working through the night and long into morning, and they couldn’t fathom who would want Feinstein dead.
Megan slid a credit card into the vending machine and punched a button. A bottle of water tumbled into the retrieval bin. She pocketed the credit card, lifted the bottle, twisted off the top, and took a long pull of water. “What’s his defense?”
“Early this morning he went to the convalescent facility to help with a patient exit. The ordeal took over three hours.” Rodrigo took a bite of his burger, chewed, and swallowed. “I contacted the patient’s husband. He corroborates Norton’s story.”
Megan fetched a paper cup from a cupboard and dumped the packet of Alka Seltzer she’d brought along into it. Watching the medicine fizz made her feel a tad better.
“Want more good news?” Rodrigo asked, walking beside her back to the squad room.
“Bring it on.”
“You have a visitor. Ashley Macintyre’s fiancé, Peter Vaughn. He phoned earlier. When he couldn’t reach you, he got me and gave me an earful. I told him”—he waved a hand like a game show host—“to come on down.”
He gestured to a man in rumpled shirt and jeans with dark messy hair who was pacing by Megan’s desk. Megan frowned. Had the guy slept in a wind tunnel?
“Son of Congressman Vaughn,” Rodrigo added. “Have fun. Play nice. I’m gonna get a cup of java.”
Megan was familiar with the congressman. Since his election two years ago, he had championed an overhaul in social security and Medicare. A defendant’s lawyer before entering the political arena, the congressman was a legend in Washington. Some said he could fund a campaign for president from his own bank account. The son, on the other hand, was an artist. Was his choice of career in defiance of his overachieving daddy? In addition to the impaled painting at the scene of the crime,Megan had seen a few of Peter Vaughn’s pieces hanging on Ashley Macintyre’s walls. He was talented.
She approached him with caution. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Call me Peter, please.”
“Mr. Vaughn,” Megan repeated. She’d tried to reach him the morning after Kayla’s murder, but the congressman’s PR person said the congressman’s son was in France on business.
“Your partner acted as if this was a routine matter. It’s far from routine.” His emotions were raw, palpable, which might be the reason why he hadn’t pursued politics. He didn’t know how to dial it back. “This is the police’s fault. Kayla shouldn’t be on the run.”
“Sir, you said Kayla. You meant Ashley,” Megan corrected.
“No, I mean Kayla.” His tone was curt. He expected respect. “Ashley—” His voice caught. “My ex-fiancée?—”
“Ex?”
“We broke up before I left for Paris. She’s the one who died.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Megan grumbled. Why hadn’t she trusted her initial instinct? She downed her cup of Alka Seltzer and eyed Rodrigo across the room. Vaughn obviously hadn’t dropped this bombshell on him.
“Don’t you realize what’s going on?” Vaughn argued. “Are you all idiots?”
“Sir, please.”
