Hollywood Killer by M. Z. Kelly

Author:M. Z. Kelly [Kelly, M. Z.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kingston Roads Press
Published: 2015-07-02T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

“My client is agreeing to this interview on the condition that the death penalty is off the table,” Marcia Strand said.

I handed a copy of the legal paperwork across the table to her. “So stipulated, as per the agreement with the district attorney’s office.”

Strand was Ronald Walsh’s public defender, someone who I’d dealt with on a couple of other occasions. She was one of the few reasonable attorneys in an office that was so overwhelmed with cases that it seldom accomplished anything worthwhile for its clients. The attorney was in her mid-forties, heavyset, with short brown hair.

Christine and I were in an interview room with Strand and Ronald Walsh at Men’s Central Jail in downtown Los Angeles. I had a splitting headache from a lack of sleep, worrying about my sister all night. We’d spent the morning working out the conditions of our interview with the district attorney’s office. The agreement allowed Walsh to plead guilty to two counts of murder and spend the rest of his life in prison, on the condition that he provided evidence that he’d been hired to commit the crimes. Since the death penalty hadn’t been used in California in years, I had few reservations about the arrangement.

Both Strand and her client now knew who the phone number linked to the texts Walsh had received belonged to. Giving them that information would have been part of the discovery process required at trial anyway, so the DA had decided to use that as a basis to get the person who had set the murder for hire scheme in place—namely, Olivia Ashcroft.

Before entering the room, I told Christine that she could take the lead in questioning Walsh and that I’d follow up if I had anything additional to ask. She had agreed to the arrangement, but didn’t look well. When I asked her if she was okay, she told me that she was feeling a little under the weather. I took some deep breaths, trying to control the pounding in my own head as she began.

“Let’s talk about what happened when you and Freddie Webster entered the home owned by Olivia and Martin Ashcroft,” Christine began. “Why did you choose that home?”

Walsh looked at his attorney, who nodded for him to answer. Our thin suspect’s uneven black hair was swept back from his forehead. His face was blotchy and he looked pale, probably because he was still coming off drugs.

“I needed the money,” Walsh said. “About a week earlier, I got a call from a guy I’d met in a bar. He said somebody named Dan had a job that needed to be done.”

“Who was this guy who contacted you?”

He sniffed and scratched at his arm. “I don’t really know. He came by the Wheelhouse a couple of times when I was there and bought me some beers. He went by the name John, but I don’t know if that’s his real name. When he called, he gave me a cell number and said it was a big payday.

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