Page 26 of The Perfect Illusion
"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.
