Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell 1)

“Well, maybe he did.”

Kate stared at her. “And what, took Clyde Ritter with him?”

“Two birds with one stone.”

Kate studied her hands. “It started out like a fairy tale. My father was an activist in college. Civil rights marches, war protests, sit-ins, the whole works. My mother was the beautiful actress poised for stardom. But they fell in love. My father was tall and handsome and smarter than everybody, and he wanted to do all this good. He was noble, he really was. He had great substance. All the people my mother knew were actors; people from the stage, basically all fluff. My father was something totally different. He didn’t just act the part, he went out and risked his life to make the world better.”

“Pretty hard for a lady to resist,” Michelle said quietly.

“I know my mom loved him. What I just told you are things I learned from her and some of her friends. And I also found some of her diaries from when she was in college. They really did love each other. So I don’t know why it didn’t work out. Maybe it lasted longer than it should have considering how different they were. But maybe if she hadn’t left, he wouldn’t have done what he did.”

“But maybe he didn’t do it alone, Kate. That’s what we’re trying to get at.”

“Your new evidence that you can’t tell me,” she said scornfully.

“A gun,” said Michelle firmly. Kate looked startled but said nothing. “A gun that we found and that we believe was hidden in the Fairmount Hotel on the day Ritter was killed. We think there was a second assassin in the building, but that person didn’t fire.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t know. Maybe he lost his nerve. Maybe he and your father had a pact to do it together, and then he didn’t, leaving your dad with the full responsibility.” Michelle paused and then added quietly, “And maybe it was that person who talked your dad into doing what he did in the first place. And if he did, maybe you saw or overheard something that can help us.”

Kate looked down at her hands and nervously picked at her nails. “My dad didn’t have many visitors and not any real friends.”

“So if somebody did come to see him, you probably would have noticed,” Michelle suggested.

Kate remained silent for so long that Michelle almost rose to leave.

“It was about a month or so before Ritter was killed.”

Michelle froze. “What was?”

“It must have been two o’clock in the morning, I mean some crazy hour. I was asleep but some noise woke me. I slept upstairs when I was with my father. He could be up at all hours, and at first I thought it was my dad talking, but then the voice was different. I crept to the top of the stairs. I could see a light on in my dad’s study. I heard him talking to someone, or rather this person was talking and my dad was mostly listening.”

“What was he saying? This other person? Wait, was it a man?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“I couldn’t make out much of it. I heard my mother’s name used. ‘What would Regina think?’ Something like that. And then my father answered that times were different. That people changed. And then the other person said something I couldn’t hear.”

“Did you get a look at him?”

“No. My father’s study had a door to the outside. He must have left that way.”

“What else did you hear?”

“Nothing. They started speaking in lower voices. Probably realized they might wake me up. I thought about going downstairs and seeing who it was, but I was scared.”

“Did your father ever mention who the visitor was, anything about it at all?”

“No. I was afraid to let him know I’d overheard, so I never brought it up.”

“Could it have been someone who worked at the college?”

“No, I think I would have recognized his voice.” There was something in her manner, a furtiveness, that Michelle didn’t like, but she chose not to push it.

“Did you ever hear the name Ritter mentioned by the man? Anything like that?”