Sedona Law 4 by Dave Daren (ready to read books TXT) 📕

“Before,” she said.

“But the murder occured after the performance,” I reminded her.

“Yes,” she said. “Security escorted me out of the building and threatened to have me arrested, so I left peacefully. I’m not a violent person, so I didn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“You’re not?” I asked. “But you’re here to confess to a murder.”

She shook her head as if in recall. “Right. But that was later.”

“When?” I asked.

“After the performance,” she said. “I snuck backstage again.”

“How?” I asked.

She smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m not proud of this... but… I... flashed a security guard so he would let me through.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You degraded yourself?”

No wonder the police found her testimony not credible.

“Like I said, I’m not proud of it,” she said. “And I was very upset, and so I resorted to desperate means to get my message across.”

“Okay,” I said. “The security guard let you through. So then what happened?”

“I encountered Beowulf in the hall,” she said. “And I started yelling and screaming, and he alerted security and went into his dressing room, but I followed him. I got into his dressing room, and then I blacked out. I don’t remember what happened then. But, I just remember standing over him, and realizing that I had killed him, and then I ran away in fear.”

“So, you don’t remember the exact details of the criminal act?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I was very emotional.”

“Can I ask you, Ms. Klein, are you on any medications?” I asked.

“No,” she said.

“Have you ever been under the care of a psychiatrist?” I asked.

“No, nothing like that. I killed him, I did!” she insisted, and her brow furrowed in frustration.

“Why was Senator Malone outside?” I asked.

“Senator Malone?” she answered. “He wasn’t there.”

“You told Vicki he was,” I said.

“No,” she said. “I’ve never met Senator Malone.”

“You have never met Senator John Malone?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I’ve seen him on television, but that’s all I know about him.”

“Who owns Kat Studios?” I asked.

“I do,” she said.

“Who gave you the money?” I asked.

“It was my money,” she said.

“Who is Jack Winslow?” I asked.

She looked at me fearfully, and then I saw her throat move as she swallowed.

“He was an old employee of mine,” she said.

“How long did he work for you?” I asked.

“A few months,” she said.

“Why did he leave?” I asked.

“That’s his business,” she said.

“Fair enough,” I said. “But I think you know what I’m getting at.”

She fingered the rim of the table.

“You want to tell me you never met Olivia before the night of the murder?” I asked. “And you want to tell me you have never met Senator Malone?”

Then I slapped the floorplans on the table. “And you want me to believe you snuck in through the window of this dressing room?”

She looked at me like a deer caught in the headlights and at the camera and then cried out, “I killed him! I killed him! What does it matter all of the details? Isn’t that enough?”

“Why is it so important that someone believe you?” I asked.

“Because,” she shouted. “I need the money!”

I recoiled in shock and the words hung in the air for the better part of a minute.

“What money?” I asked.

Her face deflated, and she looked tired and sad. Now, this was the way criminals looked when they confess.

“A man called me a couple of days after the murder,” she said, “I don’t know who he was or why. But, he said that if I confessed he would give my family half a million dollars for my son to go through school. He’s a smart kid. He’s nine, now, and he’s... I think he really might be one of those whiz kids, you know? He has read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica twice. You can ask him about anything, and he knows. I want him to go to the best schools in the world, private schools, best colleges. And this man, he offered me money if I would confess.”

“But you would spend your life in prison,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “But my sister agreed to raise my son for me, and I figured if I did it this way, I could give him the life I could never give him on my own.”

“And you don’t know who this man is?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I only talked to him on the phone. He gave me ten thousand for confessing, and then I get more when the trial begins, and the rest when I go to jail.”

“Well,” I said. “That’s a pretty messed up deal to make.”

She burst into tears. “I know. But it seemed to make sense at the time.”

“I think you know who he is,” I said.

“I don’t,” she said. “He only sent a man that works for him to bring the money. And I had never seen him before or after.”

“You’ve invalidated the deal,” I said. “Because we can’t let you confess now.”

“I know,” she said. “And I feel so much better now. But he will come after me.”

“You need to go to the police, tell them everything you just told me,” I said. “They will protect you. But, I have to turn this recording over to them.”

She nodded and looked frightened. “I understand.”

“Would you like me to call them and have them escort you over there?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I can manage on my own. It’s better this way.”

She rose and left the room, and then I heard her leave the office not long after. Landon and I looked at each other.

“Whoa,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “This just got real.”

“It tends to do that around here,” I