Page 17 of The Perfect Illusion (Jessie Hunt #39)

Benjamin Moran lawyered up fast.

Jessie had expected it. She and Brady stared through the one-way mirror into the West L.A.

station interrogation room, watching Moran talking to his attorney.

The speakers were off, as they legally had to be, so they couldn't hear a word, but it wasn't hard to guess what was being said.

The lawyer was instructing his client to just keep his mouth shut, which was par for the course.

But Jessie and Brady still had a card to play.

They anticipated that Moran wouldn’t be cooperative, especially after the way he’d been brought in.

So rather than press him for answers about these murders right away, they’d decided to hold off until they could really come at him.

Even if he said nothing, they might be able to glean something from his physical reaction to their questions.

“So to be clear,” Brady said as they waited for Moran and his attorney to finish up, “we’re hoping to stun him into cooperating?”

"We're hoping to stun him into something," Jessie said.

"We get him riled up with the background material Jamil and Beth got for us.

Then, when he's primed, we tell him why he's really here and see how he responds.

We can watch his body language—see if he clams up even more.

That would certainly raise my suspicions.

And if he's not our guy, one would think he'd do his best to convince us of that. "

“If he’s smart, he’ll keep his mouth shut no matter what,” Brady noted.

“Oh, I believe he’s smart,” Jessie conceded. “I also think he’s a total narcissist. It’ll just be a matter of which side of him wins out.”

“Well, the lawyer’s knocking on the door, so I guess they’re done,” Brady pointed out. “How about we get this party started?”

***

“As I’ve already told you twice,” Colm Missner said, “I’ve advised my client not to answer any of your questions. We’re happy to litigate the accidental bump of Ms. Hunt in court if need be, but I won’t allow Mr. Moran to be interrogated in this manner.”

Missner, a well-put-together attorney in his fifties with wispy gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses, spoke with clipped precision.

“But we’re not interrogating him,” Jessie reminded him.

“We’re just bringing to Mr. Moran’s attention our awareness of the multiple complaints filed against him with the State Bar of California and the Los Angeles County Bar Association.

One would think he’d want to take this opportunity to address them. ”

“Those are not criminal allegations and they have no bearing on the current situation,” Missner said. “You got my client into this room under, at best, dubious pretenses. And you still have yet to share why you harassed him at his club in the first place.”

“You know, harassment is an interesting word to use,” Brady replied, “because that’s the exact term used by the three female attorneys who filed complaints with the county bar association and the two others that did the same with the state bar.”

“That’s right, Detective,” Jessie said collegially as if they were hosting a talk show rather than questioning a suspect.

“Specifically, it seems that Mr. Moran has an alleged pattern of harassment against fellow attorneys, always female, and always ones who represent female clients. He’s been accused of getting into their personal space and using inflammatory terms to describe them, including: whore, bitch, skank, and cow.

In at least two instances, attorneys claim that he made actual physical contact with them in a way that made them fear for their safety. ”

“That was crap,” Moran blurted out. “There was no proof of that.”

“Be quiet, Ben,” Missner hissed.

“So it was crap with two different women?” Jessie goaded, “just like you didn’t make contact with me?”

“They’re liars,” Moran grunted.

“Shut up!” Missner ordered.

Jessie decided now was as good a time as any to address the murders. Moran was agitated and not listening to his lawyer. There might not be a better chance to sandbag him.

“It’s those kinds of allegations and your current lack of self-control that has us wondering what else you’re capable of, Mr. Moran.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Moran protested.

To Jessie’s surprise, Missner didn’t interject. He was clearly intrigued. She kept going.

“You sure about that?” she challenged, “because we’ve got two dead bodies that might say different.”

Both men stared at her silently. Jessie kept her focus on Moran, whose expression had gone from confused belligerence to confused apprehension.

It was clear that he was both worried and befuddled.

But it wasn’t obvious whether the latter was because he didn’t know what she was referencing or because he was surprised that they’d found out what he’d done.

“What exactly does that mean?” Missner managed to ask.

“It means that two women, both of whom were previously in divorce proceedings with Mr. Moran’s clients have turned up dead.

And we have your guy here using derogatory terms to describe each woman both on and off the record.

His disdain seems almost personal. And we’re just wondering how personal. Did you kill those women, Mr. Moran?”

“Don’t say a word, Ben,” Missner ordered, putting his hand on Moran’s forearm before fixing Jessie with a hard stare. “Are you seriously alleging that my client killed two women? Is that really why we’re here today?”

“We’re here because of the battery your client inflicted upon me earlier this morning,” Jessie said, “but as long as we’re all hanging out, maybe we can clear up the whole murder thing.

One would assume that if Mr. Moran wasn’t involved, he’d be shouting it from the rooftops, rather than letting you keep him quiet. ”

"You know that's not how it works, Ms. Hunt, or at least you should,” Missner said condescendingly. “You are making serious allegations, And even if my client was at a children’s hospital at the time of these murders, doling out toys for terminally ill kids, I wouldn’t allow him to discuss it until I’ve had the opportunity to review the matter with him privately. ”

“Really?” Brady jumped in, “because we’ve had two women, both involved in legal proceedings with your client, killed in the last two nights.

An innocent man would surely want to clear his name, especially if he knew that resources being used to investigate him should be going elsewhere.

If another woman dies because your guy kept silent, when he could have given us proof of his innocence and allowed us to move on—well I could see some prosecutor considering that a chargeable offense. ”

"So you're saying that if you wrongfully charge my client and another woman is murdered because he exercised his Fifth Amendment rights, he's going to be charged with obstruction or something?" Missner challenged. “That’s patently absurd.”

“That’s your opinion,” Jessie countered.

“You can share yours and I’ll share mine.

I’ve got quite a platform these days. If I called a press conference to address my concerns along with your client’s lack of cooperation, I wonder what it would do for his future business.

Are potential clients going to want to hire a man tainted by a murder investigation?

Personally, I wouldn’t, but that’s just me.

Of course, all this could be resolved if Mr. Moran would just come clean about his whereabouts for the last two nights.

That is, unless he has something to hide. ”

Jessie had watched as Moran’s body increasingly clenched up with each word she said.

To his credit, he didn’t blurt anything out this time.

Instead, he leaned over and whispered something to Missner.

The lawyer whispered back. Moran replied with a longer, more impassioned response.

That seemed to seal whatever deal they’d made.

Missner sighed heavily, then spoke aloud.

“My client is willing to give a limited response to your most recent question about his whereabouts,” Missner said. “That will have to suffice for now.”

“Go ahead,” Brady said, apparently not wanting to argue particulars when they generally were getting what they wanted.

“Who was killed?” Moran asked.

“Not your concern for now,” Brady told him. “Where were you on Tuesday between 5 and 7 P.M. and then last night between 9 and 10 P.M.?”

Moran checked his phone.

"On Tuesday, I had a client meeting that ran late," he said. "We were going to be in court the next day so I was reviewing material with him from four until six. Then he left, and I stuck around for another hour to prep. After that, I went home."

“This meeting was in your office?” Brady asked.

Moran nodded.

“Where is that?” Jessie asked.

“The Wilshire Tower in Westwood.”

She looked at Brady and sensed that they were thinking the same thing: That tower was only a ten-minute drive from the crime scene, maybe fifteen in rush hour traffic. Still, it was unlikely he could have made it there in time to sneak in the Hollinger house by 6:06 P.M.

“Was anyone with you after the client left?” she pressed. “Any other lawyers or support staff?”

“My legal assistant, Maryanne, never leaves until I do,” Moran said. “We left together at seven. Took the same elevator down to the parking garage.”

“And last night?” Jessie demanded, trying to keep him off balance even as she saw their hopes of nailing him starting to fade.

“From 9 to 10?” he reconfirmed. “I was at a movie with a friend.”

“Where did you see the movie and who was the friend?” Brady asked.

“It was at the Landmark in Westwood Village,” he said. “Do I really need to say the friend?”

Jessie wanted to clap back at that but let Brady do it.

“Only if you want to confirm your alibi during a murder,” the detective told him.

“Her name is Maryanne,” he said quietly.

“The same Maryanne that serves as your alibi for the first night?” Brady pressed. “Are you seeing your legal secretary, Mr. Moran?”

“We’ve gotten friendly,” he admitted.

“So friendly that she might cover for you while you committed crimes?” Jessie wondered.

“Not that friendly,” Moran said through gritted teeth. “Besides, you should be able to confirm what I said through other means. My office building has security cameras. I’m sure the movie theater does too. It shouldn’t be too hard to prove I was where I said I was.”

Jessie was inclined to agree. But before she gave up on Moran as a suspect, she decided to try to poke him one more time to see if something slipped.

“Does Maryanne know about how you called both Patricia Hollinger and Rebecca Martinez gold-digging beauty queens?”

Moran took a moment to process the names of the dead. This was the first time that anyone had revealed them to him. But it only took a couple of seconds for him to find his footing.

“She’s only been my legal secretary for a year, but she knows my style,” Moran said. “She also knows that I’m a zealous advocate for my clients. If she was that offended, she wouldn’t work for me, or sleep with me.”

“Zealous is one way to put it,” Jessie pushed.

“Some might call it over zealous. Others might call it casually cruel. Would Maryanne still sleep with you if she knew that you’d once harangued Patricia Hollinger when you came across her in the supermarket?

Or that you went on Kai Cody’s social media and commented that his wife, Rebecca was “a dirty whore?’ That doesn’t feel like standard advocacy. ”

“She would probably still sleep with me,” Moran replied with a snide tone and a toothy grin. “I’m really good in bed.”

Jessie noted that he made no attempt to apologize for his behavior, nor did he express any sympathy for the dead. She wanted to needle him a little more but Missner had apparently had enough.

"That's all," he said. "You got the answers to your questions.

You may not consider my client a paragon of gentlemanly virtue, but he's provided alibis for both murders, which you can validate through a variety of means.

He's cooperated well beyond what is required. I think it's time you let him go."

Jessie, still hung up on the arrogance of Moran’s last comment, worried that any response from her might include a dollop of violence so she said nothing. Luckily, Brady was more chatty.

“We’ll check the alibis,” he said, “but in the meantime your client isn’t going anywhere. He’ll need to be arraigned on that battery charge, so we’ll put in the paperwork on that.”

“You’re just stalling,” Missner said. “He’s going to post bond in milliseconds so why go through this charade?”

Brady stood up, and Jessie did the same.

“You may call it a charade, counselor, but when my partner is attacked by a sweaty wild-eyed harasser, I take it seriously,” he said. “We’ll process your client as time permits. In the meantime, he’s going in a cell.”

As they left the room, Jessie fought back the urge to hug Brady. Even with coffee stains and pastry crumb bits all over him, it would have been worth it. Only her desire to leave Moran twisting in the wind prevented it.

Once they closed the door behind them, Brady turned to her.

“Sorry I couldn’t do more,” he said.

“I thought you did pretty well.”

“Yeah, but it won’t amount to much, He said, looking dejected. “If Moran’s alibis hold up, and I think they will, our best lead just disappeared in a puff of smoke.”

He was right, but Jessie refused to let the setback get her down.

“Then we just have to look for new fires,” she told him.

Unfortunately, they didn’t know exactly where to look. But with two murders in two nights, she wasn’t about to take a break.