1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

“Anyone come to mind who might’ve wanted to hurt her? Someone who was overly fascinated? Maybe jealous when she moved on?”

Merrill thought a bit, shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You two were close?”

She nodded. At the same time, her eyes hooded.

“Why did she move away?”

“She landed a great job. Must’ve seemed like she was finally climbing the ladder. Her father and mother always wanted that. The Shaker Heights thing. Look, I really have to catch a plane.”

“What are the chances Kathy was running away from something?”

“You live the way we lived, you’re always running from something.” Merrill Shortley shrugged and looked bored.

There was an attitude, a coldness about Merrill I didn’t like. She still surrounded herself with the cynical aura of a dissolute past. And I had the suspicion she was withholding something. “So what’d you do, Merrill? Marry the dime-bag mambo king of Silicon Valley?”

She shook her head. Finally, she smiled thinly. “Fund manager.”

I leaned forward. “So you don’t remember anyone special? Someone she might’ve kept up with? Been scared of?”

“Those years,” Merrill Shortley said, “I have a hard time remembering anyone special at all.”

“This was your friend,” I said, my voice rising. “You want me to show you what she looks like now?”

Merrill stood up, stepped over to the dresser, and began to pack a leather bag with toiletries and makeup. At some point, she stopped and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Then she looked over her shoulder and caught my eye. “Maybe there was this one guy Kathy was into. Big shot. Older. She said I’d know who he was — but she wouldn’t give me a name. I think she met him through the job. As I remember, he was married. I don’t know how it ended. Or who ended it. Or if it ever did.”

My adrenaline began to flow. “Who is he, Merrill? He might have killed your friend.”

She shook her head.

“You ever see this man?”

She shook her head again.

I pushed on.

“You’re the one friend from back then she invites to her wedding and you never met him once? You don’t even know a name?”

She gave me a cool smile. “She was protective. She didn’t tell me everything. Scout’s honor, Inspector. I assume he was a public figure.”

“You see her much in the past couple of years?”

Merrill shook her head again. She was being a real bitch. New money in Silicon Valley.

“Her father told me she still used to come to town. On business.”

Merrill shrugged. “I don’t know. I have to go.”

I yanked open my bag and removed one of the crime-scene photos McBride had given me, the one of Kathy, wide-eyed, slumped in a bloody heap in front of her husband.

“Someone she knew did this. You want to be met at the plane and thrown in a holding cell as a material witness? You can call in your husband’s lawyer, but it’ll still take him two days to get you out. How would the tech-fund crowd react to that news? I’m sure I could get it in the Chronicle.”

Merrill turned away from me, her chin quivering. “I don’t know who it was. Just that he was older, married, some big-time SOB. Kinky, and not nice about it. Kathy said he played sex games on her. But whoever he was, she was always quiet about it, protective. The rest you’ll have to do on your own.”

“She still continued to see this guy, didn’t she?” I was starting to put it together. “Even after she moved to Seattle. Even after she met her husband.”

She gave me the slightest smile. “Good guess, Inspector. Right up to the end.”