“What do you mean putting it together? You mustn’t touch any original tapes. I’ll get it all thrown out.”
“We’ll not tamper with anything, but you don’t want to watch seventy-two hours of cars driving by on the street.”
He motioned, and she followed him out the office side door and down the hall, into a room full of electronics and strewn cables, connecting God only knows what. A police technician was manipulating three video recorders with computer screens.
“Do you know Bill Baines? Bill, this is Sandy Reid.” They exchanged nods. Shapiro said, “Remember when you were a kid and flipped through those spicy novels you found hidden on top of the bookcase to find the good parts? Well, these are the good parts. Show her the actual shooting first, Billy, then the suspect running away and getting into his car.”
“I can’t wait.”
She watched as the technician manipulated the equipment to fast-forward to the first video. The night scene was illuminated by light from the stores and the streetlight. She watched as the figure of a man walked up to a parked car and tapped on the driver’s window. It could be Lester, she thought, still the man’s face couldn’t be seen clearly. She could handle that in the courtroom. The driver lowered the window. There was no sound but obviously, they were shouting. Suddenly the man drew a gun and shot into the car at point blank range. Sandy noticeably flinched as the driver jerked violently and slumped over in the car against the dashboard. The camera was on the shooter’s back as he ran away.
Shapiro turned to look at her without speaking, confident that the video spoke for itself.
“All you have are pictures taken in the dark,” she said attempting to minimize it. “I don’t think that’s him. Don’t you have one of him smiling for the camera?”
“Wait until you see this.” He nodded to the police technician.
The second surveillance tape showed the man still running down the dimly-lighted street until he reached a parked car. His face turned upward as he opened the car door. The face of Lester Bardner was clearly visible.
“Notice the license plate, Sandy. Zoom in on it, Billy… good. Even if you maintain that the video doesn’t positively identify Lester, that car is registered to him, he’s getting into it and driving away.” He relaxed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Forget about bail. A jury will love this. Save your energy for finding a defense to save Bardner from a lethal injection. To get bail with such overwhelming evidence is impossible.”
“Impossible takes me a little longer,” she said with bravado, yet was definitely shaken to realize they had such indisputable evidence.
“That’s what I’d expect Sandy Reid to say. But sorry, my sweet, you’re on the wrong side of this one. The case is open and shut. End of story. End of trial. End of your client.”
Chapter Five
Martin greeted Sandy when she returned from the state attorney’s office. “I imagine our new client is not at all contented in jail. Is he any more stable today?”
“Same old Lester. Besides all that, I just came from seeing Mel, he had this incriminating evidence he wanted me to see, a deadly video showing our client shooting the victim at point blank range.” She paused to let the bombshell hit him.
“Okay. So, that would be the absolute worst case. What does he really have?” When her solemn expression didn’t change, he stopped smiling. “You can’t be serious. Who took the video, is it legit?”
“It’s a routine street traffic cam, covering a downtown street-corner.”
“That figures, the police report said in front of a corner restaurant. Dark, right? And those camera shots have terrible quality. Keep in mind, all the images of bank robbers look like the same guy wearing the same baseball cap. Are you certain it’s Lester?”
“We do have something to argue about there, the image isn’t real sharp. But later the video shows the shooter getting into his car—and it’s Lester.” She gave her head a little shake. “Remind me next time to look at the evidence, before deciding whether to accept a client.” She drew a long breath. “Not too late to back out.”
“If you’re concerned about me, forget it,” he said. “I’ve no objection to us taking on a tough case. There are hitches and pitfalls that have to be overcome in all cases—mitigating and extenuating circumstances. We’ll find them, and we’ll give Lester the best possible defense. Sandy Reid won’t back out.”
“Geez, you sound just like my law professor.”
“Not bad, huh?”
“Please don’t say, look at it as a challenge, a possibility for personal growth.”
“So shall we take the case?” he asked.
“The state attorney’s case seems rock solid. Forget about reasonable doubt and other possible suspects. Forget about our client having an alibi. All that usual stuff will be futile considering the video. Developing a successful defense will be next to impossible, and we’re going up against one of the most successful prosecutors in the southeast. Our client on tape shooting the guy will soon be on the Internet for all the world to see. I fully expect disaster.”
“Sounds as if you’re going to do it.”
“Let’s get started.”
Nigel stepped over to her doorway. “I overheard part of your conversation. Can I join in and ask a question?” They both nodded and he continued. “The police report said the incident took place in front of Mahoney’s Restaurant. Where’s that?”
Martin answered, “Let’s see, it would be the corner of 34th Street and Palm Avenue.”
“And where was Lester parked?”
“Down near the corner of 36th and Palm,” she said. “The videos showed Lester running from the restaurant at 34th, down Palm Avenue, to where he was parked at 36th Street.”
“Just wondering,” Nigel said and went back to his desk.
“Okay.” Martin looked down at his notes and started in, “Eddy Jaworski called us with the latest information on the victim. Benjamin Coleman lived in Miami Beach and was a minor criminal—several arrests, no convictions. He checked into the beachfront Holiday Inn here in town two weeks ago. I asked if the police had discovered any connection between the victim and Lester or any motive for the killing. He wouldn’t answer directly, of course, but his silence told me that they have nothing on either connection or motive. He did hint they had some very incriminating evidence—now I know it’s the video.”
“The video might be all they ever need.”
“So the victim’s a crook from out of town,” Martin thought aloud. “And the accused is a rich guy who chums around with the country club crowd. No connection between the suspect and the victim, and no known motive. All of that helps our case, if that’s any consolation.”
“It helps but doesn’t erase the video. I’ll be in my office banging my head on the wall, if anyone needs me.”
A half hour later, Nigel rapped softly on her office door and leaned in. “A man up front, doesn’t have an appointment. Says you’ll want to see him. Should I ask him to make an appointment?”
She stood behind her desk, “Everything else has gone wrong today, show him in.”
“He looks okay. Says his name is Kyle Botting.”
Her eyes widened, and she took hold of the back of her desk chair to steady herself. “I don’t believe it,” she said to herself.
Nigel ushered in the man and closed the office door behind him.
“Well, hello, Kyle. What are you doing down here?” Four years had done little to change him. She remembered his broad grin, the easy smile, strong cheekbones and the trim body—a definite hint of strength, but not overly muscular.
“You forgot to say goodbye.” He stepped around the desk, stood close in front of her and reached out for her. At first she hesitated and then moved in for a gentle hug. She broke it off at once. He said, “You don’t mind a hug for old times’ sake, do you?”
“Total strangers hug total strangers on the street these days. I’ve stopped evaluating hugs. You might as well sit for a min
ute.” She moved behind her desk and sat.
Distressed leather chairs sat opposite her desk and along the wall. He dropped into the chair nearest her desk and glanced around the office. “Hey, hey. Look at this office... you always wanted to become a lawyer. So, are you engaged, married or... whatever?”
She shook her head. Fun to see him again, yet he didn’t seem the upbeat guy she remembered. Maybe she was projecting her own cold attitude. “And how are you, still live in Philly?”
He nodded. “So, it’s been four years. You’re looking even better, Sandy. I felt you were stressed out in Philly trying to handle the job and school, not eating correctly and all that. You needed to put on five or ten pounds. You’ve had a chance to take care of yourself down here, haven’t you? Wow, you are absolutely glowing.”
A tinge of color was forming on her cheeks. “Rude of me not to have said goodbye, I know.”
“Rude doesn’t quite do it. I walked in and saw dresser drawers pulled out and empty hangers on the closet floor. You even copped the toothpaste. You simply walked away. The only thing you left behind was the imprint of your head on the pillow.”
“In a hurry. Family emergency down here with my brother. I thought about putting closure on our relationship, but didn’t have time.” She wondered, without the emergency taking her to Florida would they have stayed together during the past four years. The passion of their affair probably wouldn’t have held up that long. “Sorry about the toothpaste. What can I say, I moved on.”
“Yeah, in the middle of the night. When you left our apartment, I thought it was only temporary. I wasn’t sure if I should wait, or run an ad to rent out your side of our king-size bed. To tell the truth, I thought you’d be back in a few days. You share the rent with anyone down here?”
She made a tight smile. “None of your business.”
“The closer I got to Florida, the more excited I became about seeing you. Just got into town. Haven’t found a place to stay yet. Haven’t even checked out the beach. Wanted to look you up first thing. Thought you might have some ideas.”
“Tourists usually stay in a hotel or motel,” she said gently.
“Unless they have friends in town. Of course, sometimes that means they must sleep on the couch, but it’s cozier than a motel. Great to see you again, Sandy. You’re really looking fine, honestly exciting. Maybe we can spend some time together. I took a week vacation.”
“Nice to see you, Kyle I wondered what happened to you. Regardless, you’ve caught me at the absolute worst of times.” A gross exaggeration. The Bardner case was just getting underway. True, she had a dozen open defense cases, but they were waiting for court dates, motions to be heard or such. She and Martin had everything neatly under control. “I’m incredibly busy just now.”
“Too busy for a hug. I suppose far too busy for a kiss, probably need an appointment.”
“Kyle, I wish you wouldn’t bounce in here talking about kissing. It sounds overly familiar.”
“Are you saying I don’t know you well enough to talk like that? I’m not a mere stranger off the street, you know. We have an overly familiar history, remember? You kept me busy in bed for over a year.”
“I kept you busy... I kept you busy?” She looked over at the door. “Keep your voice down. Okay, you’re correct, once we were close. But it’s been four years. You don’t get to pick up the intimacy where you left off. It doesn’t work that way.”
“You mean I must run through all the bases before I can slide into home base again?”
“Forget the metaphor, you’ve left the ballpark. That was a different situation up there—two healthy people sharing a small apartment. The sex just naturally happened.”
“And happened, and happened—.”
She held her hand up like a traffic cop. This wasn’t the time or place to get into those kinds of memories. She stood and came around the desk. “Nice to see you again—but it’s over. Sorry Kyle, I must get back to work.”
“Okay, I’ll be serious. I was just excited to see you again.” He waited a moment before standing. “I shouldn’t have barged in like this out of the blue. I’ll be in town for a week. I hope we can at least have a drink.”
“I’ll walk you to the front door. Enjoy your vacation in Park Beach.”
When Kyle had left, she called for Nigel, who was buried in his computer. After he came trotting over to her office, she said, “Here’s the name and address of Sparkle Faulk, Lester’s girlfriend. An unlikely first name, but that’s what he gave me. And I don’t know where she works. Anyway, see what you can find on her and get her in here. I need to see her and find out if she has any connection with the shooting. But don’t tell her why. Okay?”
“If that could wait just a minute, I’m in the middle of something that looks important.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Everything about this case is important. We have very little to work with, and at this point we don’t know what’s important.”
Martin overheard and came up to them. He winked at her, and said, “If you think it’s important, Nigel, then let’s have it.”
“Let me ask you,” Nigel said, “when Shapiro showed you the incriminating videos was there a break in the sequence?”
“Of course, there are two street-corner cams. There’s a break where the area covered by one camera stops and another picks up the action.”
“That’s what I thought. I’m guessing there’s a two or three minute break that they didn’t explain to you. It’s on my computer screen right now. Let me show you.”
They stepped over to his desk in the front office and stood behind him. He pointed to his computer screen. “Here’s the list of city video cams in the area of the crime. The crime scene was at 34th and Palm and Lester’s vehicle was parked near 36th and Palm. Note there’s no camera in between at 35th Street and Palm Avenue. No video cam at the 35th Street intersection. In other words, there’s no way the police could have followed Lester by video from the crime scene at 34th, to his car parked at 36th. The police don’t have continuing evidence showing the figure running from the crime scene down Palm Avenue to Lester’s car because there’s a gap in the video at 35th. There’s simply no camera at that intersection.”
Sandy and Martin were temporarily speechless.
Nigel swiveled around toward them. “Pretty neat—I suppose.”
“That’s an understatement.” Her head was spinning with possibilities, ready to accept anything to negate the video evidence.
Martin said, “You just earned your salary for the year. It’s good... not earth shaking, but good work. Now check with the street department and be dead certain there’s no camera at 35th.”
“Already did that. I just got off the phone with the Chief Traffic Engineer. He told me the insignificant traffic at the 35th Street intersection doesn’t justify the expense of a camera.”
She gave him a pat on the back. “We’re not home free yet. I have to stand before a jury and maintain that the video shows some unknown person fleeing the scene and somehow disappearing because the next cam shot shows our client running to his car. Somehow, the first guy disappeared and our guy appeared halfway through as if my magic. In fact, I can hear Mel in court calling it the Houdini alibi.”
“But it’s something to talk about,” Martin said. “There still might be private videos from stores in the area. We’ll need to check into that. The police likely have already done that.”
She called Shapiro and asked for a copy of the video per the defendant’s rights under discovery. He explained he couldn’t release the originals, and it would take some time to come up with a verified copy.
“Screw the verified copy. It can come later. All I want is a copy of what you were showing me in the police lab. You don’t have to certify it, and I won’t release it.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll have it copied onto a flash-drive. Give me a half hour, then come and get it. Does that make you happy?”
“Deliriously.”
When N
igel came back with the flash-drive from Shapiro, she and Martin were still rejoicing over the possibility that a gap in the coverage of the street videos might somehow prove useful. They waited nervously while Nigel connected the flash-drive. They played the video several times. A close look at the scene from the 34th Street cam showed the shooting at the curb in front of Mahoney’s Restaurant, and a man who might well be Lester, running off to the left toward 35th Street. Then there is a break before the 36th Street cam picked up Lester running from right to left and getting into a car bearing his license plates.
“You were right, Nigel. I believe we’ve got it,” he said. “It looks as if it could be Lester, who did the shooting at 34th, but too dark to definitely tell. And definitely it’s him at 36th getting into his car.”
She picked up on it, “The shooter is definitely off camera at 35th. A very flimsy point, nevertheless the prosecution can’t prove it is Lester all the way across.”
Nigel spoke up, “Get real, folks. That’s Lester in these videos from start to finish. I don’t see how you could keep a straight face in court.”
“I’ll argue reasonable doubt. The prosecution can’t merely point to the video in court and say, Look, that’s Lester Bardner shooting and running away to his car.”
They were still clustered around Nigel’s computer when Julia Bardner unexpectedly opened the front office door.
“Mrs. Bardner, good you came in,” She motioned the woman into her office. “We need to talk. I’ve decided to defend your husband. I have some papers for you to sign.”
After briefly perusing and signing the engagement agreement, Julia said, “I must say, I’m certainly relieved to put this mess in your hands.” And then she got right to what she was paying for, “What have you done so far? I just came from the jail. Lester looks terrible. You must get him out.”
“I’m having difficulty connecting with him. He only answers questions he likes. Back up and tell me a little about him.”
Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) Page 4
