Never Sorry: A Leigh Koslow Mystery (14 page)

Leigh's brow wrinkled. "That doesn't make any sense," she thought out loud. "Why would Carmen be possessive if their relationship was platonic?"

Katharine looked at Leigh as if she ought to know the answer to that question. "Tanner's statements about the relationship aren't completely consistent," she said heavily. "And they disagree with the impressions of the witnesses. To say the least."

Leigh stood up again. She'd had enough. "If Frank thinks a mild-mannered model citizen like me would chop up another woman over a man—any man—he's crazy."

"'Crazy' is strong," Katharine responded quickly, "though that scenario is not very plausible, I agree. Unfortunately, I believe Frank has another scenario which was easier for the D.A. to swallow."

Leigh looked at the lawyer expectantly.

"Carmen Koslow has quite a colorful past. If you were the dead one, she'd have been jailed before dawn. She has a history, according to witnesses, of jealousy over Dr. Tanner, and on a few instances she has reacted aggressively toward other women he's been involved with."

Leigh didn't want to think about the implications of the last statement, so she ignored it.

Katharine continued. "I suspect Frank is basing his theory on Carmen's having attacked, or planned to attack,
you
. Somehow or other, she was the one who wound up dead. The dismemberment could have been a frantic attempt to cover up whatever 'accident' killed her. You and Tanner could have disposed of the rest of the body together."

Leigh sank back down into her chair, speechless. The scenario made a sick kind of sense. Never mind that it was completely untrue.

"If that didn't happen, the scenario won't hold up," Katharine said firmly. "Our job is to go through every miniscule detail of your story looking for supportable contradictions with that scenario. I can think of several offhand. There were no indications of your being involved in a struggle. Neither your car nor Tanner's bore any evidence of having the rest of the body
inside
, and both engines were cold when the police arrived. No blood was found on Tanner's clothing—no other bloody clothing was found at the zoo. And as for your running from the scene, the report overlooks the fact that although you were running toward the main gates, you were running
away
from the employee lot where your car was parked."

Katharine paused. "But punching holes in the state's theory is only half our job. We not only need to show that you didn't and couldn't have done it—we need a defense theory. We need to figure out how it actually went down."

Leigh rose and headed back to the coffee pot. She pulled down a double-sized thermal travel mug, filled it to the brim, and gulped two uncomfortably hot swallows. The sad truth was, she hadn't given all that much thought to what had really happened to Carmen. The killer could, after all, have been just about anybody. She liked Tanner's theory of a professional hit because it was more comforting than imagining a murderer on the zoo payroll, but otherwise the details didn't concern her. Carmen was dead and Leigh was sorry about that—really, she was—but finding the killer wasn't her problem.

Until now.

A pot and a half of coffee later, Katharine Bower closed her laptop and straightened her papers. "We'll need to interview everyone involved—I'm sure all the zookeepers have theories, even if some were reluctant to share them with police. And if you insist on talking to Tanner before I get a chance, don't go soft—make it clear that his failure to be truthful with us could seriously jeopardize your case."

A thought that should have struck Leigh earlier finally surfaced. "Am I allowed to leave the county? I was planning to meet him at his cabin this afternoon—up past Butler."

Katharine's mouth hardened into a grim line. "I wish you weren't involved with him at all, but there's no point continuing some lame cover-up." Leigh bristled a little at the implied criticism, but let it go. One had to pick one's battles—and one's opponents.

Katharine didn't think a day trip across the county line would be a problem, but she wasn't happy that Leigh could provide only vague directions and no phone number. "Don't stay long," she warned. "We'll need to keep in touch." She headed for the door, then turned. "Warren lives in this building too, doesn't he? Could you give me the number? I need to speak with him about something."

The lawyer's voice was practiced in neutrality, but Leigh wasn't fooled. She gave the number with somewhat of a smirk, which Katharine ignored.

"One more thing," Katharine called back as she started down the hall. "The reporters will keep on you for a while. Whatever you do—don't say
anything
!"

Leigh nodded and smiled slyly. No, she wouldn't be talking to any reporters. Not until the charges were dropped, anyway. Then they'd get an earful. She crossed to the front window to survey the reporter situation, and was happy to see only one holdout of the few that had been waiting for Katharine outside the apartment building this morning. But so far none had gotten close enough to harass Leigh in person. Buzzer systems were a definite advantage of apartment life. Especially ones with volume controls.

She glanced at her answering machine and sighed. It hadn't worked for ages, now it was blinking its little heart out—the tape was probably full. She sat down beside it, turned up the volume and hit the play button, taking a deep breath to fortify herself. The messages started from the night before—reporters chiefly, a few concerned friends and coworkers. Then the one she'd been dreading.

"Leigh, it's your dad. Maura just left, and she did a very good job of explaining everything. Your mother's doing all right, but it would help if you could speak with her yourself. Give us a call tomorrow morning."

Leigh smiled sadly. Her dad was a rock in a crisis, but he was known to  underplay everything by a factor of at least five. If he said her mother was okay, he meant that she didn't require hospitalization. He also never said things he didn't mean. The call home was not an option.

She downed another breakfast bar before picking up the phone. It was almost noon, and she was starving. Hypoglycemia and a call to her mother did not mix well.

A thin voice answered on the first ring. "Yes?"

"It's me, Mom. I'm absolutely fine. The arrest was no big deal, everybody treated me just fine, I was out before I knew it, and my lawyer is confident that the case won't go much further. The charges are probably going to be dropped and everything is absolutely A-OK hunky dorry. All right?"

There was no answer for a moment, and Leigh awaited the sound of a clunk on the floor, but none came. The thin voice came back on, strained, but steady.

"I'm glad you're taking it well. Maura assured me that you have a fine lawyer. But you need your family now. I'm already organizing a family conference."

Leigh's blood froze. The fact that her mother wasn't babbling hysterically was frightening enough, but the dreaded family conference was a fate too horrific to contemplate. "Um, Mom?" she said weakly, "Can I talk to Dad, please?"

"In a minute," Frances said firmly. "First, you're going to agree to a family conference. At two o'clock."

With every cell in Leigh's body shrieking "Avoid! Avoid!" the wheels in her brain turned quickly. "I really can't today, Mom," she insisted, "I have an important meeting this afternoon with a witness. The lawyer gave me instructions and everything."

Frances paused only briefly. "Tonight, then."

"I don't know when I'll get back. It's a pretty good drive from here. And I've been going to bed early lately—"

"Sunday morning, right after church. We'll have lunch. Lydie can make lasagna and Cara and Gil can bring the baby over."

Leigh's body slumped in defeat. She couldn't avoid it forever. They all meant well. "Okay, Mom. I'll be there."

"We'll see you at church beforehand. Shall I have Reverend Albers bring you up as a—"

"No!" Leigh uttered the exclamation automatically, then reconsidered. After another day every man, woman, and dog in Pittsburgh would know she'd been arrested for murder. What did it matter? A little prayer couldn't hurt.

"Um, sure Mom. That'd be great. Thanks." She bit her lip. Her mother's behavior in all this was disturbingly rational. Not half as bad as the time Leigh had attended the church picnic in a midriff shirt with a temporary snake tattoo.

"Take it easy, Mom. Okay?"

"You can talk to your father now."

What, no parting advice?
Leigh began to panic. There were muffled noises, then a voice came back on the phone. It was Frances again.

"Oh, and dear—be careful what you wear. The television reporters may be watching for you, and you don't need to be seen running around in those awful blue jeans or you'll look guilty for sure. I've read that the camera puts ten pounds on, you know—"

Leigh smiled. Frances might make it after all.

***

Leigh held the scribbled map to the right of the steering wheel, trying to read it as the Cavalier bounced on the pitted gravel road. Tanner was better at surgery. The map began all right, but by the time he drew the last road he had cornered himself in so tiny a space that the cabin location was indecipherable. She tossed the journal on the seat and decided to use her instincts.

Her stomach growled. The two tacos she'd picked up on the way were good, but insubstantial, and her next meal in civilization could be a ways off. She sighed and thought again of her conversation with Katharine.

"It was a platonic relationship," Tanner had said in his sworn statement. Why would he lie? He couldn't have known that Leigh would read the report. Maybe he was the only man who had ever told Carmen no and that's why she was so attracted to him…

"I knew her before, during, and after my divorce," he had said.
Before?
When had Tanner started working at the zoo, and when had he and Stacey broken up? She envisioned the jealous and overzealous Stacey going bonkers after one look at Carmen's zoo uniform, which on every occasion Leigh had seen it was unbuttoned conspicuously low. Had Carmen caused the divorce?

Leigh sucked up the last of her diet cola, now diluted to pale brown swirls in melted ice. If Carmen had been the catalyst, it could help explain Stacey's generous divorce settlement. What was it she had said in the hospital lounge? "I'm no longer interested in the sordid details of your sex life." Was Stacey talking about Carmen?

Leigh tipped up the cup to finish off the ice, and was suddenly hit with cold in more places than one.
The divorce settlement
. What if his defense in the divorce was to claim that he hadn't cheated? If Stacey's case had included proof of infidelity, Tanner would be foolish to lie about that to police—they could find out about the divorce settlement. But if she hadn't been able to prove it, which seemed more likely, he couldn't very well admit it later—knowing Stacey, she'd haul him right back to court and have him brought up on perjury charges. So if he ever claimed there was nothing going on with Carmen during his marriage, he'd have to keep claiming that.

The possibilities swam circles in Leigh's brain. Did he lie both times, or was he telling the truth? Even if he covered up an involvement before the divorce, why cover up an involvement after? He was a free man now. He said that the relationship was platonic, period. It might very well be. Mightn't it?

She slammed on the brakes as an energetic young Rottweiler suddenly darted out into the road in front of her, followed closely by a grubby little boy of three or four. She hadn't been going fast, but stopped only a few feet short of the dog and uncomfortably close to the child as well. The boy looked at the Cavalier only briefly before running back into his own yard, followed happily by the dog. Leigh looked for a supervising adult, and saw an older woman, probably the boy's grandmother, hanging out laundry beside a double-wide trailer. The woman looked at Leigh as if to say, "watch out where you're going, will you?" and continued with her work.

Leigh shook her head and kept driving, this time at a snail's pace. But the few small houses and trailers that had dotted the road before disappeared abruptly as she drove farther into the woods. The condition of the road deteriorated as well, and for a few minutes she was convinced there couldn't possibly be any inhabited dwellings farther down. Soon the road would simply end, dwindling to a narrow path studded with deer poop.

But she was wrong. After a particularly sharp turn and a particularly deep pot hole, a cabin came into view. Mercifully, so did Tanner's pickup. The cabin was about how she had imagined it—small, wooden, and square, with minimal decorating or landscaping effort. There did not even appear to be a driveway—Tanner's truck was parked haphazardly among the trees in front. Another car was parked alongside the road, two wheels driven up into knee-high weeds.

Leigh steered the Cavalier into place behind the extra car, frowning all the while. Who else was here? Her whole point in coming was to be alone with Tanner. She'd thought he felt the same way.

Walking where the trees were thicker and the weeds not quite so robust, Leigh trail-blazed her way slowly toward the front door. The cabin seemed sturdy enough, it just needed a little attention. Perhaps a lot of attention.

As she got nearer to the cabin and heard no signs of life within, Leigh began to worry. Where was Tanner? She had expected him to come meet her—he couldn't possibly have not heard her car, since there was nothing else to be heard in the middle of nowhere. The front door of the cabin stood open a few inches, but the windows were dark and he was nowhere to be seen. Leigh felt a twinge of nervousness and backtracked to confirm that she'd seen the right pickup. She walked close enough to look in the cab. Yes, it was Tanner's. Not too many pickups in Pennsylvania had Auburn University duffel bags in the front seat. So where had he gone?