A Matter of Life and Death

by Phillip Margolin

  “Drop the flashlight and raise your hands.”

  Robin did what she was told.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Rostov asked.

  That question gave Robin an idea.

  “I’m someone who’d kick your ass if you didn’t have that gun.”

  Rostov stared, open-mouthed. Then he burst out laughing.

  “You’ve got guts, but that won’t save you or your boyfriend.”

  “I don’t need guts to beat the shit out of a muscle-bound ape. Your size probably scares people. But I bet you’ve never been in a real fight.”

  Rostov looked angry. “I’d love to beat you to death, but I’m in a hurry.”

  Robin looked Rostov in the eye and smiled. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  Rostov was about to say something. Then he stopped and stared.

  “You’re the lawyer who’s representing Lattimore. The fighter.”

  “If we fought,” Robin taunted Rostov, “I’d try to kick you in the balls, but I’m afraid I’d miss a target that small.”

  That did it. Rostov grinned and tossed his gun onto the easy chair that was at his elbow.

  “This is gonna be fun. First, I’m going to beat you until you beg me to stop. Then I’ll let you discover just how big my dick is.”

  Robin pulled out the gun in the holster at her back and shot Rostov in his right kneecap. The giant screamed, collapsed on the floor, and rolled back and forth in agony.

  Robin kept her gun aimed at Rostov as she edged around him and knelt next to Jeff. His breathing was shallow, and there was a bloody gash on the top of his head. Robin tamped down the urge to kill Rostov. She wanted to avenge Jeff, but Joe Lattimore’s life hung in the balance.

  Robin dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance and the police. Then she turned her attention to Rostov, who appeared to have conquered his pain enough to glare at her.

  “Here’s the deal, Mr. Rostov,” she said in the businesslike tone she used when she was negotiating a plea. “You have a recording of Joseph Lattimore’s fight. I want it. Give it to me or I’ll blow out kneecap number two, and you can see how tough you are in prison with no legs.”

  “You stupid bitch,” Rostov shot back. “You’re the one who’s going to prison for breaking into my house and assaulting me.”

  “I remember things differently, Andre,” Robin answered calmly. “I remember you assaulting my investigator, then holding me at gunpoint and threatening to rape me. That’s when I pulled out my gun and shot you. Who do you think the cops will believe?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I hope you have a good health plan,” Robin said as she aimed at Rostov’s undamaged kneecap.

  “Wait! Stop!” Rostov shouted. “Let’s make a deal. I know things that the cops will want to know.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “Lattimore didn’t kill Ortega. I know who did, and I know who killed Carasco’s wife. If I tell what I know, your client will walk.”

  “You’ve got my attention. Keep going.”

  “I was just a bit player. All I did was drive Lattimore to the judge’s house. But I can ID the man who beat the judge’s wife to death and the person who sent him to do it.”

  “Your word won’t be enough.”

  Rostov smiled through his pain. “I was the one who filmed your client’s fight with Ortega.”

  “I’ve seen it on YouTube.”

  “But you haven’t seen all of it. I kept filming when the fight ended. What’s on the rest of the recording was my insurance policy if the people behind the fights and the murder of Mrs. Carasco tried anything with me. It’s also my get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  “Where is the recording?”

  “It’s not here, but I can get it as soon as I get immunity. Believe me, the cops will be drooling when they find out what I know and can prove.”

  “I’m not a cop. I can’t promise you anything.”

  “But you know people who can. Make the call.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  When Jeff opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Robin. She was sitting next to his hospital bed, holding his hand. Jeff blinked, unsure of where he was.

  “You’ll be okay,” Robin said, choking up as she spoke. “The doctors say you’ll be fine.”

  Robin could see that Jeff was having trouble focusing. She wasn’t surprised. Jeff’s doctor had told her that the concussion would make him disoriented and groggy.

  “Where…?” Jeff managed.

  “You’re in the hospital. You’ll be okay in a day or so.”

  Jeff closed his eyes, laid his head back on his pillow, and went to sleep. Robin wiped the tears from her cheek, leaned forward, and kissed him.

  * * *

  The next time Jeff was conscious, he was more alert.

  “How long have I been out?” he asked.

  “A few hours. You came to for a minute, but you probably don’t remember.”

  Jeff stared at Robin. “Have you been here the whole time?”

  “Every second. I was afraid I’d lose you, and I didn’t want to miss a moment.”

  Jeff squeezed Robin’s hand, which had been holding his.

  “I’m not that easy to lose.”

  A thought occurred to Jeff.

  “What happened? I remember the police raiding the barn, then nothing.”

  “It was Rostov. He came up behind you after I broke into his house. He smashed you in the head with the butt of his gun.”

  “We broke into his house?”

  Tears started streaming down Robin’s cheeks. “I’m so stupid. I don’t think. I just charged ahead, and when I turned around, you were lying there and I thought you were dead and I’d never talk to you again or be with you and … I’m so sorry. You tell me something I want to do is dangerous, and I don’t listen.”

  Robin choked up and looked down at the side of the hospital bed.

  “It’s okay,” Jeff said. “It’s who you are. And your intentions are always good.”

  “But I can be so stupid.” Robin looked up. “Can you forgive me? You could have died.”

  Jeff managed a weak smile. “Of course I forgive you. I love you.”

  Robin started to bawl.

  “Hey, cut that out,” Jeff said. “You said it yourself. I’m going to be fine.”

  “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

  Robin stopped, wiped her eyes, and took deep breaths.

  “There was a time when you were lying on the floor and Rostov was pointing his gun at me when I thought we would both die. And I realized right then that you are the most important person in my life. I always want to be with you, always.”

  Robin paused and took a deep breath.

  “Will you marry me?” she said.

  Jeff blinked. “Did you just propose?”

  Robin laughed. “I think so.”

  “Oh my God!”

  Robin flushed. “You don’t have to answer right away. I mean, you can wait until the drugs wear off and you have a clear head. There are a lot of negatives. I know I’m a slob. I can try to be neater. And I have poor impulse control at times…”

  “Are you changing your mind?”

  “No, it’s just … See? I just blurted that out without thinking, and I should have waited until—”

  Jeff laughed. Then he winced from the pain.

  Robin looked alarmed. “Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?”

  “Yes, I am okay, and no, don’t call the doctor, and yes, I do want to marry you, despite your many flaws.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Andre Rostov had been lucky. He’d only suffered a flesh wound. Robin’s bullet had hit his leg just above the knee, bounced off bone, and exited, missing all of his major blood vessels. The attending physician had given him some pain meds and sutured him up.

  Two hours later, Rostov lay in a hospital bed with his damaged knee wrapped in a bandage. He looked a little groggy, but his doctor had assured every
one that the effect of the drugs had worn off enough for Rostov to be questioned.

  Vanessa Cole, Roger Dillon, and Carrie Anders sat on uncomfortable metal chairs on Rostov’s right. The edge of Carrie’s chair was cutting into her leg, and she kept shifting her weight every few minutes.

  Seated on Rostov’s left side was Mary Garrett, who showed no signs of discomfort. Carrie didn’t expect her to. The criminal defense attorney was famous for a laser focus that shut out anything that might distract her from winning a case.

  Garrett, with her plain looks, overbite, dense glasses, and five-foot-tall stick-figure frame, resembled a tiny bird. Offsetting her height and appearance was a designer wardrobe straight out of the latest edition of Vogue and showy jewelry that cost as much as some people’s cars. Garrett knew that she wasn’t going to win a beauty contest, but she didn’t care. What she did care about was destroying the case against her client. Even the most seasoned prosecutors dreaded going up against her in court.

  “Robin Lockwood says that Mr. Rostov admitted driving Mr. Lattimore to the judge’s house as part of a setup to frame him,” Vanessa Cole said. “That makes him an aider and abettor in a capital case.”

  “That makes him a minor player in someone else’s scheme, who had nothing to do with the actual killing,” Garrett shot back.

  Vanessa smiled. “Let’s cut to the chase, Mary. What do you want?”

  “Immunity.”

  “And what do I get in exchange?”

  “A treasure trove. Mr. Rostov can tell you who killed Betsy Carasco, who paid for the hit, and who was involved in framing Joseph Lattimore. And, as they say in the infomercials, there’s more. He can tell you all about a crooked judge and a bent DA.”

  “You’ve got my attention.”

  “You’ll get the details once we get your offer,” Garrett said.

  Vanessa and Garrett went into the hall and battled back and forth over the benefits that would accrue to Rostov if he delivered on Garrett’s promise. Twenty-five minutes later, Mary Garrett spelled out what her client would tell a grand and trial jury.

  “Kevin Bash runs the illegal fights, and Sal Benedetto recruits the fighters and is involved in several other capacities. Judge Anthony Carasco had been funding the fights secretly for a share of the profits. When his wife told him that she was going to divorce him, Carasco approached Bash with a plan he had devised that involved someone murdering his wife while he had an airtight alibi. Carasco made a down payment on the plan by forfeiting his share of the profits for the next two fights.”

  “Mr. Rostov will testify that Anthony Carasco arranged his wife’s murder?” Vanessa said, using all of her self-control to keep from showing her surprise.

  “He wasn’t present when that happened, but he was in on part of the plan to frame Lattimore.”

  “Go on.”

  “Bash had Sal Benedetto find a patsy. Benedetto had people in the tent city where Joe Lattimore was living who found men and women who would participate in the illegal fights. Lattimore was perfect for the scheme. He was a professional boxer, and he was desperate to find shelter for his family.

  “Next, Benedetto found Carlos Ortega. Right before Lattimore and Ortega fought, Bash drugged Ortega to make sure he would lose. Then Bash told Lattimore that he’d killed Ortega so they could blackmail him into going to Carasco’s house on the night of the murder. What Lattimore didn’t know was that Ortega was still alive after their fight. When Lattimore left the barn, Bash killed Ortega.

  “Bash paid Benedetto to beat Elizabeth Carasco to death so it would look like Lattimore was the culprit. The judge arranged for Ian Hennessey, one of your deputy DAs, to have dinner with Carasco at the same time Benedetto was beating Mrs. Carasco to death. When the deed was done, Benedetto phoned the judge while the judge was eating, and the judge pretended that he was talking with his wife. After that call ended, Benedetto phoned Mr. Rostov and told him to bring Lattimore to the scene of the murder. They timed it so the judge and your deputy drove onto Carasco’s street in time to see Lattimore run out of the judge’s house.”

  “Does Mr. Rostov have any hard evidence to back up these allegations?” Vanessa asked.

  “He has a recording that shows Bash murdering Carlos Ortega. In it, Bash takes Lattimore’s hand wraps, so Lattimore couldn’t have been wearing them when Elizabeth was beaten to death. Benedetto was, and he’s the one who dumped them in the trash can.”

  “What evidence can Mr. Rostov provide that supports his belief that Judge Carasco is a criminal?” Vanessa asked.

  “Carasco owed money to Mr. Bash for arranging the murder of his wife, but he only paid part of what he owed. Bash was getting impatient. He demanded his money. Carasco came to that barn you raided on the night of the raid. Mr. Rostov was present when Carasco told Bash that Elizabeth Carasco’s mother had filed a lawsuit that was tying up Elizabeth’s trust fund. He said he would have plenty of money as soon as the case was dismissed. Bash told him he wasn’t going to wait and would have Mr. Rostov take care of him if the money wasn’t paid soon. He was in the middle of threatening the judge when you raided the barn.

  “Mr. Rostov will also tell you that the judge hired him through Bash to take care of another problem involving a woman who was blackmailing the judge. This also involved Ian Hennessey, the DA who was with the judge when his wife was being murdered.”

  “Ian?” Vanessa said. “How is he involved?”

  “Hennessey was sleeping with a prostitute named Stacey Hayes. Hayes was staying in an apartment that the judge owns. Carasco was paying her to be his mistress.”

  “Did Ian pay this woman?” Vanessa asked.

  Garrett leaned over, and she and her client had a whispered conversation.

  “Mr. Rostov doesn’t know. What he can tell you is that an associate of Hayes named Karl Tepper tried to blackmail the judge. Carasco hired my client through Bash to go to Hayes’s apartment, beat up Tepper, and get several sex tapes that Hayes was using to blackmail the judge and this DA.

  “Mr. Rostov and two men went to the apartment and beat up Tepper, who had installed a hidden camera in a bookshelf across from the bed in the bedroom. Mr. Rostov got Miss Hayes to show him the location of the camera and to hand over the sex tapes. Then he told her to get out of the state.”

  “Does Mr. Rostov have the sex tapes?”

  “No. He watched some of them, but he turned them over to Carasco at the fight.”

  “The judge wasn’t in the barn when we raided it. Does Mr. Rostov know what happened to him?”

  Rostov and his lawyer had another whispered conversation.

  “As soon as your people broke into the barn, Mr. Rostov told the judge to run. They both went outside through a back door,” Garrett said. “The judge drove away, and Mr. Rostov doesn’t know where he went.”

  “Why did your client help the judge?” Vanessa asked.

  “Carasco still owed Mr. Rostov for taking care of Tepper. The judge wouldn’t have been able to pay if he were in jail.”

  “This is all very interesting, Mary. I want to think about what you’ve told me. I promise to get back to you very soon.”

  Vanessa turned toward Rostov. “You’re doing the right thing by cooperating. If what you’ve told us is accurate, good things will be coming your way.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Kevin Bash, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, sat across from Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon. Bash was unshaven and had the exhausted appearance of a man who had spent a sleepless night in a jail cell. Max Weaver, Bash’s attorney, sat next to him.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” Carrie told Bash.

  “Mr. Bash has no priors,” Weaver said. “I doubt he’ll go to prison for running an illegal fight.”

  “How much time have you spent with your client, Max?” Carrie asked.

  “We just met twenty minutes ago.”

  “During your meeting, did he tell you that he beat a man named Carlos Ortega to death and conspired to have Ju
dge Anthony Carasco’s wife murdered?”

  Weaver looked confused. “Those are serious charges. What’s your proof?”

  Carrie looked at Bash. “We bagged Ralph Knowland during the raid at the barn.”

  The color drained from Bash’s face.

  “Who’s that?” Weaver asked.

  “He’s the doctor your client paid to attend the illegal fights he’s been running,” Carrie answered.

  Then she addressed Bash. “Dr. Knowland says Ortega was alive after his fight with Lattimore.”

  “Knowland’s a junkie,” Bash blurted out. “You can’t trust anything he says.”

  Roger smiled. “You have a good point, Mr. Bash. Addicts are notoriously untrustworthy. Unfortunately for you, we can prove that the good doctor is telling the truth.”

  “I think it’s time for a little show-and-tell,” Carrie said.

  A television was sitting next to the wall. Roger pressed Play on the remote he was holding. Weaver watched the screen intently as Lattimore and Ortega fought. Then Ortega was down, and Lattimore jumped up and yelled something. Moments later, Dr. Knowland knelt beside Ortega and examined him. Bash and the doctor talked for a few minutes, and Knowland left.

  “Here’s where it gets interesting,” Carrie said.

  On the screen, Joe handed Bash his hand wraps. Soon after Joe left the barn, Bash stripped naked, rewrapped Lattimore’s hand wraps around his knuckles, and rained punches on Ortega.

  “I’ve seen enough,” Weaver said.

  “I don’t blame you,” Carrie said. “I almost puked while I was watching.”

  “There’s more, Max,” Roger said. “We have a witness who can testify that Mr. Bash sent the man who murdered Betsy Carasco. Joseph Lattimore is facing the death penalty for that murder. Once Mr. Bash trades places with him, he’ll be looking at spending what’s left of his life on death row.”