Chasing Suspect Three by Rod Hoisington

to
mention. Are you sure it was John?”
    “Someone else would try to kill me?”
    “Did you actually see him? That is the
question. Margo, can you please start giving me complete answers
without me dragging every frigging subject and verb out of you?”
She closed her eyes and put her hands to her forehead feeling the
developing headache. “Someone on the outside looking at us would
never guess we‘re on the same side.”
    “What do you want me to say? I didn’t stop
and look, but I think it was him. When I heard the shot, I ran for
my car. He shot and missed. I don’t know how. He was right there in
the bushes. Some other people heard the shot and were running
around. I drove like hell to get out of there. It really pissed me
off.”
    “Someone trying to kill you can do that. What
time was that?”
    “We break up at seven.”
    Sandy looked at the police report to verify
the time. “All right, where did you go then?”
    “Where did I go?”
    “Margo, you’re doing it again.”
    “I don’t remember exactly.”
    “What time was it when John was lying in that
messy pool of blood in his shower? When you heard the sirens and
took off?”
    “Around nine or ten, I think. I’m just
guessing at the time. I didn’t look at my watch.”
    Sandy closed her eyes and shook her head.
“You told Detective Jaworski you were home with your
boyfriend.”
    Margo looked upward thinking. “I guess that’s
right I was home.”
    “Can anybody vouch for that, other than your
boyfriend?”
    Silence.
    “Margo, according to this report you were
seen leaving, at least your car was seen leaving, John’s place as
police cars approached!”
    “Let me think. Yeah, that wasn’t me. That was
Richie, I loaned him my car.”
    “And that’s the same Richie who’ll vouch for
you being at home at that same time?”
    “You’re trying to confuse me. He might have
left for a minute that night. I might have the times mixed up. Do
you have any idea what I’ve been through?”
    “No I don’t. That’s what I’m trying to find
out. Please tell me what you’ve been through.” As frustrating as it
was, Sandy was eager to learn more about the murder and to begin
formulating some sort of defense. She swiftly wrapped herself into
the question-answer routine and was surprised how effectively her
previous field investigator work in Philadelphia had prepared her
for this type of client questioning. It seemed second nature. She
felt she was asking the correct questions, even though she had
doubts about some of the answers.
    For the next hour, they talked. She made
numerous notes on her yellow pad—notes about John and Margo’s
personal history, relatives, friends and enemies, property, and
lifestyle.
    Questions about Margo’s relationship with
Richie Grant resulted in a glowing depiction of an enthusiastic
lover. Apparently, his lone fault was he considered ripping off her
clothes foreplay. He supposedly had an excellent job, as well. Yet,
she still refused to give out details.
    Sandy looked at her watch and pushed back
from the table. The lack of information regarding Richie was just
one obstacle. Another was Margo mixing up the truth. Strangely, she
sounded truthful about not being very upset with her husband over
the separation or even about him shooting at her. To hear her tell
it, she just brushed it off.
    “Here’s how I believe we should proceed,” she
said adding it all up. “I want you to cool it with your hostile
wife routine. Nine times out of ten, the spouse is the murderer.
The odds go up to ten out of ten if she’s hostile. Believe me,
that’s what the police are thinking. Don’t help them with your
attitude. You were a loving wife, but not devastated by the
separation. You are not a hostile wife, you are a grieving
widow.”
    “Isn’t it up to you to prove I didn’t kill
him?”
    “It’s up to me to be certain you receive a
first-class defense, and your rights are protected.”
    “Word it any way you want, but