Box Office Poison by Melinda M. Snodgrass

Author:Melinda M. Snodgrass [Snodgrass, Melinda M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prince of Cats Literary Productions

We headed for the county jail. As Maslin negotiated the traffic, he asked, “I don’t get it. How come his lawyer didn’t find out about this?”

“Defense attorneys don’t ask questions beyond the ones necessary to build their defense. They don’t want to know. The one question you never ask your client is did you do it. Valada’s looking for some other explanation for what happened at 9:00 pm that night other than Kerrinan butchered his wife. She could care less what happened at 8:00 am.”

“Okay, I can see that, but what about the DA and the police?”

“How many crimes do you think are being prosecuted in LA right now?” I asked.

“Oh, God, thousands probably.”

“Exactly. The police and the prosecutors have a case that hangs together. Hell, it’s stronger that that—it’s almost cut and dried. There’s no reason for them to investigate where Kerrinan and Michelle ate breakfast. It’s not relevant. They have an explanation, and they have limited time and resources.”

“So, nobody has done what we’ve done,” Maslin said thoughtfully.

“Exactly.”

The more I thought about the time discrepancy, the angrier I got, so I was spitting nails by the time I reached the jail. Christine had left instructions that I could see Kerrinan whenever I wanted. Since Maslin wasn’t on that list, I left him in the lobby browsing through old Guns and Ammo and People magazines. I ended up landing on the bunk with more haste than grace because of a fast-advancing wall. Kerrinan smiled, but it curled up and died when he got a look at my expression. He cleared his throat, “Ah, it’s good to see you.”

“Trust me, that feeling’s not going to last. Where were you between breakfast at Mary’s Lamb and the GQ shoot?”

“I don’t know what—”

“Cut the crap!”

My words and tone hit him like a whip. He jumped up, took two agitated steps, then had to go dancing over to the toilet to avoid an oncoming wall. For the next few minutes I couldn’t see him for the moving walls. I could hear an indistinct mumble, but I couldn’t make out any words over the squealing of metal on metal.

A wall cleared and we could see each other. “Get over here. Now.” He did. “Where were you? Opium den? A rub and tug massage parlor? Knife shop?” He flinched. “Where?”

“Balling my mistress! Okay?”

That took all the outraged wind out of my sails, but only for a moment. A new gust shook me. “God, you are so disgusting.” In a mocking singsong I chanted, “Oh, I loved Michelle. More than life. I would have done anything for her. I would never have hurt her. What a crock.”

“No! I did love Michelle. It was just sex with Rachel.” His eyes pleaded with me. “It’s like a smorgasbord. They fling themselves at you. All long limbs and young bodies and soft skin. I’m a male!” He stood up, sat down, knotted his fingers together. “They tell you what you want to hear, stroke your vanity, but they’re not real.

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