Second Hand Smoke: Blood on Wolfe's Words

by Bill Capron

  Judy responded, “Your honor, if you would turn to page nineteen of the evidence report.” The clerk handed it to the judge. She turned the pages until she found the highlighted section. “Your honor, there is a superimposed palm print, over my client’s prints on the gun. The police have found no breaks in the chain of evidence. It is our contention the palm print belongs to the real murderer.”

  DA Forde said they were investigating, but considering the weight of the other circumstantial evidence against the suspect, bail should be denied.

  Robin kept his eyes on the judge. She didn’t care about the evidence; she’d written her lines before she entered the room. She’s going to make a speech about the inequality of justice between rich and poor, then set the bail too high for me.

  When the judge’s eyes stopped on him, he smiled. She blushed to the hairline, stammered and forgot her lines. She blurted out, “Bail is set at one million dollars. The prisoner will be remanded to the custody of the sheriff until such time as bail is posted.”

  She banged her gavel to the rising clamor.

  Judy stood and raised a hand in the air, and then she banged a fist on the table. The din in the courtroom fell to a sudden silence. She waved a slip of paper. “I have a cashier’s check for the one million dollars your honor. Would you please have a sheriff remove the manacles from my client?” She stood in confrontation to the authority, exacting a necessary revenge. “Now, your honor.”

  A roar broke out from Robin’s cheering section. The judge pounded her gavel, but she’d lost control. The cameras followed Morgan from the room. Judy signed over the check, and Robin accepted a plastic bag with his wallet and keys. They made their way into the rotunda shared by three courtrooms.

  Bulbs flashed and microphones were shoved in his face. His eyes searched for Kathy Senn. He pushed through the crowd. He hugged her and shook hands with his friends.

  Back to Kathy, “Where’s Dick?”

  “Holding down the fort. We drew straws, I won.” She stretched on her toes and whispered in his ear, “We need to discuss the sale.”

  Robin looked at his watch. “Six o’clock at the townhouse.”

  He saw the two cops making their way to the side exit. He dodged through the crowd and caught them at the door.

  He was struck by a sudden shyness. “Hi,” was all he could muster.

  Simpson managed a “Hi” of her own.

  The detective rubbed her finger along her lower lip. She neither smiled nor frowned, but her skin was stretched tight to her cheekbones. “Seems you’ve bought your freedom for a couple days, Mr. Morgan.”

  Robin decided not to rise to the bait. “I’m innocent, Detective McMartin.”

  “That’s not what the evidence says.”

  He pointed a finger at her. “Then you haven’t collected enough evidence.”

  She wanted to burst his confidence. “Don’t worry, it’s coming in by the bushel.”

  He was serious; “Don’t stop looking at it.”

  She let the sarcasm flow; “Yes, the truth will set you free.”

  He grinned, angled his head and looked at her from the side. “I’m corny enough to think so. Anyway, I know the truth matters to you.”

  Anger controlled her tongue; “I’ve seen the truth, Mr. Morgan. You killed your wife.”

  He was matter of fact, “You don’t believe that.” Then, like he and Simpson had been talking to each other, “You’re pissed that I don’t measure down to your view of manhood. I can’t help that.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound; “Yeah, you’re really different, Mr. Morgan. So why’d you marry her. You let her lead you by the dick all the way to the altar. Didn’t you?”

  He blushed. “I made a mistake. Haven’t you ever made a mistake?”

  “Yes, lots of them, but I never killed any of them.” She turned on her heel and was gone.

  Simpson shrugged her shoulders and followed.

  Robin had been in the courtroom only thirty-five minutes. He was free. Yes, he had means, motive, and now opportunity.

  Chapter 8 - Friday, June 23 - 6:00 pm

  Maureen walked into Cop Heaven as the siren was fired up for a five dollar tip; at ten dollars, the lights would flash. It was a busy Friday night. Some might call it the singles scene, but not Maureen. It was all cops, and cops weren’t eligible. She loved cops, everything about cops, but it was too much like knowing how sausage is made; they held no sexual attraction for her. And, she’d never heard of a truly successful cop to cop marriage. Since when do you know anything about good marriages?

  She shook off her raincoat at the entrance and hung it on the crowded rack.

  At the far end of the room a man stood and waved. She recognized Bobbins and waved back; he held a chair and motioned for a waitress. Two detectives, Rob Dill and Andy Patterson nodded their greetings. A lifer patrolman, Murray Klein, gave her a shy wave. The waitress in beat cop regalia took her order.

  Jake and Rob continued an animated discussion on lost evidence. The short, athletic Dill was angry, but Jake used his soft voice to calm the detective down. Rob was a good detective, and, at fifty-six, past the age of early retirement, but he’d have none of that. He lived for the rush of the chase, and when he stopped working he’d die. He was a zealot against crime, like a born again Christian. It was why his wife left him; but he wasn’t there on the make. No, he’d finished a day at the altar, and this was Sunday school.

  Andy Patterson put a crooked smile on his face and rotated a finger in the air, a signal that Jake and Rob had been going at it for a while. He was good looking, thirty-five, well mannered, always available. He had dated most of the single women in the department; and he was the source of much raw and sometimes hilarious banter in the women’s locker room. He couldn’t know, could he? At least he was single, and he didn’t date married women. Too much of the locker room talk was about married men with wives who thought they were faithful.

  Andy had an unrequited thing for Maureen; he called it a passion for the unattainable. “So how is it we’re blessed with your presence tonight?”

  “Meg’s sleeping over with girlfriends.”

  He chided her, “Wow! Does that mean you’re trolling for love?”

  She rested her chin on fist. “It’s like that song, Andy, looking for love in all the wrong places. This is the wrong place.”

  He held his smile. “Yeah, but I’m the right guy,” she shook her head, “and we could look for a right place.”

  There was a serious edge to his humorous presentation. She blew right by it. “You’re more than I could handle, Andy. I don’t have time for a man. I don’t have time for you.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing, Mo.”

  She felt a twinge of regret, but not much. “Can it, Andy. I’m a girl who can’t say yes. Leave it that way, okay?”

  He flipped his right hand. “Sure, what the hell.”

  Jake and Rob resolved their differences and gave their attention to Maureen.

  Rob said, “I hear your perp reamed the captain a new asshole. Suspects with money, ain’t it a drag.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Hardaway came on a bit strong. He knows better.”

  Jake asked, “So why do it then?”

  Mousy Murray ventured into the conversation; “Rumor has it he’s getting pressure from upstairs. They don’t want a trial.”

  Andy kicked Murray’s chair, almost upending him. “So what do you know about upstairs?”

  He got all four legs safely on the floor and slid up close to the table. “Hey, I keep my ear to the ground.” He cut with one of his guarded laughs. “So, as I was saying, the rumor mill says Mona Morgan sucked a few political dicks.” He turned to Maureen. “Excuse my French.” She waved him on. “Married dicks at that.”

  Rob poked him in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them, are you, Murray?”

  The fifty year-old balding flatfoot made a face. “Yeah, right. Like she’d go for me. Anyway, Jane would have my
balls for breakfast. She wouldn’t need any proof either.”

  Maureen slapped the table. “As it should be, Murray.” Conversation stopped. “Hey, don’t you guys believe in fidelity?”

  Andy answered for mankind in general, “You mean like in the marines?” Everyone laughed and the brief tension was gone.

  See, being faithful wasn’t even a proper topic of discussion with men. She took a last parting shot; “It’s easy to see why you losers are single, excluding poor Murray, of course.”

  Jake laughed. “Speaking of married men, how’s your partner doing? Word has it he almost died.”

  From Andy, “Nah, that rumor was floated by his wife. Wishful thinking.”

  He turned to Maureen. “Dom at the front desk says two of his girlfriends crossed paths at the hospital and got into a bit of a cat fight while the old lady was there. She had to call in the orderlies to pull them apart.”

  Maureen turned her face skyward. “Dear God, this is my world, my friends, my partner. God, why are you doing this to me?”

  “Maybe it’s a test, like in the bible,” Jake said.

  She gave him a hard look. “What have you been doing, reading my thoughts?”

  They all laughed.

  “So,” Andy asked with more seriousness than he intended, “John ever hit on you?”

  “Andy, everyone hits on me. John James rates even lower than perps.”

  Andy rolled his eyes and sighed. “All right, little miss goody two shoes, I give up. But what about that cute young thing helping you out. She’s a doll. Already shot me down twice. Is she straight?”

  Maureen made a face.

  Andy leaned into her. “Anything you can do to help me out there?”

  She pushed him away. “I’m not pimping for you, Andy Patterson.”

  He put on a faux earnest look. “I could really help her career.”

  Maureen laughed at him. “Yeah, right.”

  How do I get into these conversations? There was nothing she liked talking about less, but sexual interplay was part of the give and take in the testosterone driven business of law enforcement. She lived with it, took reluctant part in it, but she didn’t like it.

  Maureen changed the subject; “Did you hear what happened in court today. Morgan walked. He got bail.”

  Jake nodded. “I was on the other side of the room. I couldn’t believe it. He actually came up with a million bucks, not the ten percent. I heard you had his accounts shut down? The captain said you had til Monday.”

  “Yes, that’s what we thought, but,” the cops leaned into the table, closing out the noisy bar, “but his lawyer put up the bail, a certified check on her personal account.”

  There was a flurry of ‘you’re kidding’ with amazed looks to match.

  The detective continued, “So I asked her ‘what if the bail had been two million?’ You won’t believe this, but she pulls out a second check for the same amount. When I asked if she was afraid he’d skip, she said her money was safer than in the bank.”

  Andy shook his head. “Never heard of a lawyer putting up that kind of bail money. Lot of whacko stuff going on with this Morgan character.”

  Murray was confused. “So why’d they set bail?”

  Jake explained about the palm print.

  Andy lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper; “You could have left it off the report; an oversight, I mean, you know, it happens all the time.”

  Maureen’s response was immediate, “It’s not honest, Andy.”

  Andy confronted her; “Is he guilty?”

  “As the day is long.”

  Andy sat back and spread his hands. “Case closed.”

  She ordered her thoughts as she swallowed the last of her beer. Jake motioned for a refill. “Andy, we’re supposed to be the good guys. No, don’t you shake your head at me. I look around this room and I see the people with the white hats. We work in the crap other people aren’t willing to deal with. The public, those people we serve and protect, count on us. If you think about it, all we got going for us is our integrity, and that’s a really fine line. We can cross it and they’ll never know, but we know, and suddenly we don’t have that integrity.” She held up a hand. “You wait, Andy, I’m not done. So an officer of the law cheats once, doesn’t like it, and never does it again. But some cops, it becomes the way they conduct business. It’s easier to make evidence than to find it. We know who those cops are, and, your previous statement aside, we don’t respect them. There’s a ton of proof that cops make lousy judges; read any newspaper. Yes, Andy, I’m sure Morgan’s guilty, but that doesn’t make him guilty. It’s up to me to collect the evidence, and the DA to make the case.”

  Andy was unswayed; “And when guilty perps walk free, then what?”

  “I get on with my job. The system’s not perfect, it doesn’t always work, but I’m not willing to turn the final decisions over to cops.” She pointed a finger at Andy. “I know you love these people, Andy, and so do I, but really, how many of them are fit to judge who should live and die?”

  Andy held up both hands. “Guilty as charged, Maureen. Next time I need some backbone, I’ll come to you.”

  “Sorry, Andy, you hit one of my hot buttons.” Her eyes warned him from the glib sexual double entendre. “If I’m ever tempted to skew the data, someone remind me of what I said.”

  Jake clapped his hands. “A fine speech, Mo. I’ll remind you. In fact, I’ll be proud to remind you. And if you ever become a good old boy, I’ll read it right back at you.”

  “Amen,” Murray added. “God, Maureen, you make me proud to be an American.”

  They all laughed and the moment was gone.

  Andy moved to safer ground; “So, what’s with your suspect?”

  “I’ll get him back,” she looked to Jake, “but I need more evidence.”

  Rob verbalized her unspoken fear; “He’s going to walk, Maureen. He killed a woman who had absolutely no morals. It’s a crime of passion, and if you took a poll, you’d find most people would call it justifiable homicide.”

  Her voice hid her anger; “Nothing I can do about that, Rob.”

  Andy again, “So what’s he like? He must be some kind of milk toast guy to let her walk all over him.”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “No, not at all. I’d call him an A-type. If his friends can be believed, he’d already written Mona off.”

  Andy didn’t believe it. “Written off? Is that some kind of code?”

  Maureen shook her head.

  Andy persisted, “No way, it’d have to stick in his craw.”

  Maureen nodded. “I’m with you, Andy. We’ve got money as a motive, but I don’t think money has a thing to do with it.” Yes, she finally believed it wasn’t the money. “It’s not important to him. Not money. Shame, that’s the driver.”

  Jake interjected some logic; “His lawyer’s going to have a tough time making a case for a crime of passion. It wasn’t spur of the moment. It was too cold blooded.”

  Rob disagreed; “No, that’ll help him. It simmered until he couldn’t take it any more. He wasn’t in his right mind. That’s how the lawyer will play it.”

  Maureen shook her head. “Not yet. He’s cool, playing it like he’s innocent, like he’s a victim.”

  “Gotta give him one thing,” Jake said, “his friends stick by him. He had a rooting section at the courthouse. Don’t think I can remember anything like that before.”

  Maureen answered, “That’s because he’s a good guy, Jake. Simpson said it, he’s done this one bad thing; he murdered his wife. These people, they love him, and even if he killed her, they’re going to love him.”

  “Even Franconi,” Jake whispered, “and I didn’t really think he liked anyone.”

  She hid a smile. “You take Armando way too seriously. He’s not looking down at you personally; no, he’s wondering how you could wear that red tie with a beige suit.” She focused on the odd combination. “In fact, I was wondering the same thing.”

  Bo
bbins was not convinced. “Well, he’s a cold fish in my book. Still, maybe Morgan’s not the guy.”

  Maureen’s head turned sharply. “Hey, Jake, it’s your evidence. You’re not doubting it, are you?”

  The big man shrugged. “I heard what that PI Sunday said, about only having evidence. Well, I know Sunday was a good cop, and that meant a lot to me.”

  Maureen was defensive; “They’re friends. What do you expect?”

  Bobbins persisted; “Sunday’s got good instincts. It worries me.”

  Where have I heard that before? Calm down. “Then get me more evidence.”

  Rob interrupted, “There isn’t enough evidence, Maureen. You’re going to have to tear down the man if you expect to see him convicted.”

  “That, I’m glad to say, is not my job. Let the DA figure that out. I’ll get the evidence; he can break up the statue.”

  Rob continued, “Forde’s not that good. I got an earful from my ex-wife last night. She wanted to know what we were doing chasing our tails, when obviously Robin Morgan is innocent.”

  Maureen could not keep the amazement off her face. “Based on what?”

  Dill used his hands when he talked; “Her company is a competitor of FindIt, and her boss thinks Morgan’s innocent. Damn guy’s probably poking her, so she’d believe anything he said, but still?”

  Maureen raised her hands in submission. “Thank god you guys aren’t on the jury.”

  Jake said, “And your partner, Simpson, she thinks he’s telling the truth.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I could see it during the interview.” He answered the question on her face; “I took a break and sat in on the other side of the mirror.”

  Maureen defended the rookie; “She’s a little confused right now; it’s her first big case.”

  Jake didn’t let it go; “Yeah, well she likes the guy. My guess is she’s fantasizing.”

  Exasperation tinged her voice; “So she likes the guy.”

  “Yeah, but it’s you he likes.”

  She blushed to her roots. “That would be a fatal attraction, for him.”