Fire and Justice_A Legal Thriller

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “I have been informed that hugging is good for you,” Bill responds, eyes down, embarrassed about the moment.

  “You need a woman, Bill,” Matthew retorts. “A new wife. It’s time to move on and fill that void in your life. You’re never going to fill that void with hugs from me. You need a woman to stop you from getting lonely.”

  “I’ve just been told that hugging is good for you. I’m not lonely.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to be here when you are lonely!” Matthew laughs.

  “It’s not that. It’s—”

  “What about your new assistant?”

  “Penny?” Bill laughs. “No. Too young. She’s only in her twenties. And she’s been through a lot, but despite everything she’s been through, she still seems like a good person.”

  “What about your bookkeeper then? Nicole? She’s a bit younger than you, but not too young. She’s hot, she’s smart, she’s hardworking, and she’s single. You match on one of those things.”

  Bill laughs. “Not Nicole. She’s not my type. Women with shaved heads and tattoos don’t do it for me.”

  “You have a type? It must be a very rare type because I haven’t seen you with a woman in years.”

  “I like…” Bill runs his hand through his hair. “Actually, I don’t know what I like. But I do know that Nicole isn’t my type. She’s too physically strong for me. She’d probably tear me apart in a fight. That doesn’t do much for a man’s ego. She does Muay Thai, a form of kickboxing, and she’s a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. If we ever got into an argument, I’m sure she would tear me to pieces. She would grab my balls and twist them sideways.”

  “Wow. It does sound like she would tear you apart!”

  “Not my type.” He shakes his head. “That’s all I know.”

  Bill looks around the old parking lot, two levels up, where they have parked well away from the three other cars on their level. Early in the evening, they have done their best to disappear into the shadows.

  When Bill calls for information, Pitt does his best to keep it a secret. Saying the wrong thing can land him in a lot of trouble with his superiors.

  But their relationship is much more than serving a purpose; it’s a relationship based on mutual respect, on friendship.

  With all the time that Bill spends around hardened criminals, he can go beyond their friendship and provide Pitt with snippets of information that may lead to solving a crime. He doesn’t mind providing leads that don’t include any of his clients – he figures justice is justice, no matter how the police land their hands on the information.

  And having his finger on the pulse of the Los Angeles Police Department means that Pitt can provide quiet leads on certain cases.

  “So why have you called me here, Bill? It’s hot, it’s late, and I have better things to be doing.”

  “Like drinking beer and watching replays of the 1984 Superbowl?”

  “You know I love that game, Bill. I could watch that game all day on repeat. And if you ever want to see a perfect game from a running back, watch that one. Marcus Allen was amazing that day. Amazing. His third quarter was immaculate. There was one play—”

  “I’ve heard this story before.” Bill smiles. “Way too many times.”

  “You’re always welcome to come to my place and watch the game again.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but your personal commentary, which is always about the next play in the game, isn’t my type.” Bill laughs. “But I’m not here to chat about that game. I’m here for the case with Jonathon Harvey. There has to be something more to it. There’s not enough evidence for the DA to be pushing so hard on this one. Rumor is that they’re not even going to offer a deal. So what can you tell me?”

  Pitt doesn’t respond. He looks to the ground, desperate not to answer the question.

  “I know there is something else going on, Pitt. That’s clear. The prosecution is pushing so hard on this, more than they should be for a case of a murdered homeless drunk. There is something else at play. I need to know what it is so I’m not blindsided in court.”

  “He’s your estranged brother, isn’t he?”

  “He is.”

  “How are you coping?”

  “I want information, not emotional support. If I needed something to soothe my feelings, I would buy a good bottle of whiskey.”

  “If you need to talk to someone about all this, I can listen. Or better yet, my wife would love to help you. Bev would listen. This is more than just another case for you. This is family. You can’t just ignore the fact that he’s your brother. If you need to talk to someone, then there are people that can help you.”

  Bill doesn’t respond to the offer of compassion, instead staring straight at his friend.

  “I know the case,” Pitt concedes. “But it’s bigger than you think.”

  Bill leans against his car, his chest huffing up and down. “How so? What’s he caught up in?”

  “It’s not just one murder that they have him on the books for. Until yesterday it was seven unsolved cases, but it’s now eight. They’re trying to link him to the others, but they have nothing on him yet. It could be even more deaths, but that’s all they’ve got at the moment. Behind the scenes, this case is very big, and it’s generating a lot of excitement. The evidence is compiling quickly, and it’s going to be front-page news in the next few days.”

  Bill shakes his head. “You’re saying that Jonathon’s a serial killer that’s popping off the homeless guys?”

  “The very one.”

  Bill runs his hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. “No. I don’t see it. I really don’t.”

  “But he’s your brother. You’d miss—”

  “I haven’t seen him in twenty years. This isn’t a close family connection that we’re talking about. This is me defending just another client. Nothing more. My judgment isn’t clouded.”

  “But he’s still your blood.” Pitt opens his hands, gesturing that it shouldn’t be overlooked. “He’s still connected to you. There’s still a bond between the two of you, Bill. You can’t just overlook that fact. Family is family.”

  “In reality, I barely think he committed this murder. The man wouldn’t have it in him. He’s not cunning enough to pull that off. At worst, this is a mugging gone wrong. Gerard tried to mug Jonathon, and he defended himself.”

  “Or the other way round. Your brother isn’t a rich guy, he doesn’t have a job, and he lives in Skid Row. So maybe it was Jonathon that tried to mug Gerard.”

  “Maybe.” Bill shrugs, open to all possibilities. “From the police report, I see that Gerard West’s wallet is still missing. Has that been located yet?”

  “Not yet.” Pitt rests his elbow against the car. “Is that what Jonathon’s saying? That this is a mugging gone wrong.”

  “No.” Bill leans his head backward, resting against the car. It’s the first time that Pitt has ever seen Bill’s shoulders slump. “That’s what I’m saying. I’m just looking at all the possible options for defending him. We have to look at every opportunity to beat this.”

  “Of course. You think he’s innocent and you want to beat the system.”

  “It’s not about beating the system; it’s about doing the right thing.” Bill slides his hands into his pockets, leaning forward slightly. “Any other evidence about the other murders? Is there anything that ties them together?”

  “The case is building. And it’s building quickly. They’ve got the best of the best on this one. It’s going to be high-profile in a matter of days. They’ve got something that connects all the murders together, but they need to confirm the evidence first. Rumor is that they’re very close.”

  “How close?”

  “At this moment, it’s all hearsay. It’s all theories. Nothing in concrete yet.”

  “DNA?”

  “None.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “None of those either.”

  “So what connects him to the other murders?”
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br />   “Who was killed and the way they were killed.” Pitt looks over his shoulder, making sure no one else is around. “Word is that the seven other deaths were all killed the same way as the eighth one last night – strangled. All homeless men. All the same. So it’s now eight within a year. There might even be more. This is a serial killer knocking of Californian residents. If they can pin it on your brother, they will.”

  “No,” Bill says softly, unconvincingly.

  “This is going to be big news when this comes out in a few days. Massive. It’s going to blow any other story off the front page. Even if some actor marries another celebrity on the first date, it won’t knock this story off the front page. This is a serial killer, and it will capture the nation’s attention. When this gets to trial, the whole country will be tuning in. He’ll be judged as guilty by the nation the second that they front the media.”

  Bill shakes his head. “I just don’t see it. He’s innocent. He has to be. He doesn’t have the look of a serial killer or killer at all.”

  “No, he has the look of your brother, and that’s why you’re missing the clues.”

  Bill grunts, looking down at the ground. He doesn’t want Pitt to be right, but he has nothing to argue with.

  For all he knows, the LAPD is spot on the money.

  “He has all the right characteristics, Bill – he lives alone, had a violent youth, lived on the streets for many years, and has been a heavy drug user for most of his life. He’s strong and could easily strangle a drunk with his bare hands. He fits the profile perfectly.”

  “I just don’t see it,” Bill whispers.

  “They’re all homeless drunks. This is more than just a coincidence. This is reality. This isn’t just media spin. He could be guilty.”

  “He can’t be.”

  “This case has the potential to blow up beyond your expectations, so you’d better be ready for it. They just need to prove that one piece of evidence that links them all together and then… boom! The case is enormous. The media will eat up the fact that he’s your brother, and you’ll be hounded from pillar to post. If they find something, anything, then this will put him on the front page, and your face right next to his. Be careful with this case, Bill, it has the potential to destroy your career.”

  Bill grimaces at the thought. “So they’ve got a serial killer on the loose, and they want to pin it on one guy just because two people saw him walk into an alley late at night?”

  “Your brother fits the profile that they built of the killer. The department has been working this case for six months, keeping everything very quiet, and when your boy popped into the picture, they figured they had their man. He ticks all the boxes that they need. The profiling team has already judged him as guilty, now they just need enough evidence to take it to court.”

  “That’s ridiculous. There must be a thousand people who fit the profile of the killer. Just because they have him in the same area as the murder, they think he’s a serial killer? That’s ridiculous, Pitt. What has your department come to?”

  “You know the type.” Pitt laughs. “They are all up there in their nice suits with their college degrees discussing criminals over a warm cup of coffee. Nothing replaces a cop’s instinct, nothing, but that doesn’t sit well with the people who make the decisions. They want all these reports and profiles and statistics. It’s about numbers, and what it says in a book. It’s not about real police work anymore. Nobody wants to get their hands dirty. They want to theorize that it’s this type of person or that type of person. It’s academic now.”

  “Well, that’s you out of the game then.” Bill grins.

  “And you’d be the best cop around.” Pitt laughs.

  Bill laughs awkwardly, looking back at the ground.

  He’s used to trouble.

  He’s used to problems.

  But he’s not used to the emotional turmoil stemming from life-long difficulties.

  “What do you think about this one?” He looks at Pitt, desperate for verification of his opinion.

  “Honestly, I haven’t had much to do with this case… but with what I have seen so far, I would say Jonathon’s innocent. At least, I don’t think he’s a serial killer. If he did this murder, then it was an accident, and not related to the other murders. That’s my profile report – based on years of walking these streets and understanding real people.”

  “You can’t replace that.” Bill tries to smile, but the pain is making it hard. “Looks like this is going to be some sort of fight then. Thanks for your help, Pitt.”

  “Bill.” Pitt stops Bill from getting into his car. “There’s something else you should know.”

  “Yes?”

  “The eighth body showed up this morning and was killed the same way. They also think it’s your client.”

  “But Jonathon’s incarcerated at the moment? He couldn’t have done it.”

  “The person was killed two weeks ago. Dumped in the water near Skid Row, and was just found by a jogger this morning. It has all the hallmarks of the same killer. It’s all going to happen soon. You don’t have much time before this blows up.”

  Bill opens his car door. “Thanks, Pitt.”

  “And Bill.”

  Bill has one foot in the door, waiting for Pitt’s response. “What is it?”

  “The eighth victim was Harry Jones.”

  “What?” Bill’s hand rubs his forehead. “No. Not Harry.” The shock sets in for Bill. “What was he doing near Skid Row?”

  “We don’t know that yet, Bill. We don’t know a lot yet. We haven’t even found Harry’s ex-wife yet, so keep that news in confidence for now. It’s a bit of a shock for us all. We all knew Harry. It was sad when it all fell apart for him, and what he did to that girl was terrible, but for it to end like this… It’s very sad. He was a good cop before he fell apart. I know he didn’t end his time with the force well, but after what he saw, that’s understandable. There’ll be a lot of sad guys in the department. A lot of guys out for justice.”

  “Strangled?”

  “Yeah. Harry was a strong guy, and it looks like he fought his attacker.”

  Bill stares off into the distance, remembering the sparkle of life that he saw in Harry Jones the last time they met.

  “Bill, I know you saw Harry a few months ago. You mentioned it when we had a beer last month. And you saw Gerard two days before his death…”

  “Wait.” Bill stands up straight, stepping out of his car. “No. You’re not asking me that question.”

  “I have to, Bill. It wouldn’t be justice for Harry if I didn’t.”

  The anger disappears from Bill’s face. “Go on.”

  “Did you have anything to do with Harry’s death?”

  “No.” Bill’s answer is short, blunt, and firm. The eye contact is unflinching.

  “When you last saw him a few months ago, did Harry say anything to you? Anything that could have given us a clue?”

  Bill shakes his head in disbelief. “We talked about cleaning up his life. He wanted to get back on his feet. He wanted to stop drinking and… he wanted to try again. I gave him a number to contact. Someone to help him. He said the same things as Gerard was saying. The very same. Are you sure it was Harry?”

  “I’m afraid so. When they start to piece his life back together, they’re going to want to come and have a chat with you, if you were with him a few months before. But I can keep that quiet if you need.”

  “No, no. Thanks but no. I have nothing to hide. We just talked, that’s all. You can tell them that you know we saw each other.”

  “I’m sorry, Bill.” Pitt rests his weathered hand on Bill’s shoulder in a sign of condolence. “If we find anything else, I will let you know.”

  Bill shakes his head in disbelief.

  Not his friend Harry Jones.

  Not after Gerard West.

  He can’t let this killer walk free.

  Chapter 13

  “Not Harry Jones,” Bill whispers into the glass, almo
st wanting the whiskey to reply. “Why Harry?”

  He draws a long breath, his eyes locked on the glass.

  Luckily, the dive bar doesn’t let any pesky light in through the small windows. It’s dark enough to let the hardy customers disappear from the day outside.

  Exactly what Bill needs right now.

  He’s seen enough death in his lifetime.

  Too many times.

  Despite the countless times he has dealt with death, it still makes Bill Harvey’s heart ache. It first ached deeply when he lost his father to suicide, his mother to a heart attack not long after. When he lost his first wife to cancer, he didn’t have much love left for death.

  But when it comes knocking at Bill’s door, he’ll be ready – ready to punch death in the nose and tell it to keep walking.

  His father’s suicide hurt the most. That was when he was still a vulnerable young adult, in his late twenties, still with his heart open to the world. He spoke at the funeral, speaking of a man that inspired him, shaped him, and ultimately, hurt him.

  His father ate a bullet for breakfast, after years of fighting to get his youngest son clean, off the drugs. Bill’s brother had his first hit of heroin at fifteen and became addicted within months. Within a year, he went from being the first-choice quarterback for his high school team to the junkie that didn’t attend school. His father, along with the rest of the family, tried everything to save Jonathon.

  Psychologists. Counselors. Social Workers. Rehab. Moving towns. Everything they knew, they tried.

  Nothing worked.

  The more they tried, the more Jonathon pushed them away.

  Not being able to help the ones he loved, not being able to save his family, was his father’s greatest failing as a man.

  It tore him apart.

  He felt like a failure.

  Exactly one year after Jonathon disappeared, a year after searching for his son, his father gave up.

  He ended the journey with a bullet.

  “A pint of your finest pale ale.”

  Bill recognizes the voice coming from the end of the bar. Slowly lifting his head, he looks across the room. Kate Spencer is sitting with a smile on her face, gazing at him.