“Want to hear a joke, Bill?”
“Is it really bad?”
“I’ll just tell the joke, and you can make up your own mind,” Kate says, and then slurps down half of her beer. Just when Bill thinks she’s about to take a breath, she keeps going.
He has no doubt that she would have been a legend at any college she went to – if she had decided to go. She would have had posters of her mythical beer drinking ability on the walls of a UCLA sorority.
Once the beer was placed in front of her, Kate’s demeanor had changed like a chameleon. Now, she doesn’t have to pretend to be classy or intelligent. She can just focus on drinking beer.
Her brothers all drink like it’s going out of fashion, and she was the same when she was a teenager. She loved the taste of beer. But when she got older, she learned that classy girls weren’t supposed to drink beer like the boys. Classy girls are supposed to sip cocktails, delicately giggling when a boy looks their way. But when she’s at a bar with a beer in her hand, the old Kate comes out from hiding. The one that grew up with four older brothers.
“What does the sign on an out of business brothel say?”
“Go on.” Bill begins to smile.
“Beat it. We’re closed.”
“Ha!”
“You like that one, uh?” Kate laughs. “Well, what’s the difference between a pregnant woman and a light bulb?”
“What?”
“You can unscrew a light bulb.”
“Kate.” Bill laughs. “You completely change when you have a beer in your hand.” He grins, his troubles seemingly forgotten under the spell of Kate’s bright white smile.
“You know…” She looks at the pint glass, already empty in her hand. “Every loaf of bread is a tragic story of grains that could have been beer, but didn’t make it.”
“Are you sure that you weren’t a dirty old drunk man in a past life?”
“Probably the past three lives.” She slaps the glass back on the table, holding back a small little burp. She waves to the bartender to bring her another pint, and Bill grins, staring at his slowly consumed liquor.
“So, now that the mood has been lightened, tell me.” She pauses for another small burp. “What is the connection between the Mexican drug dealers and Judge Hardgrave?”
“Michelle. Juan Lewis is Michelle’s boyfriend. They have been dating for years. From what I can gather, it’s not a healthy relationship, and one based on drug use. Lewis used Michelle to make connections with Hardgrave, and then he used Hardgrave to get information about other people he could use. He’s a drug dealer that has escaped charges for a very long time. He knows how to use people.”
“He sounds like a very cunning man,” Kate adds. “And all this talk of drugs has you thinking about your brother?”
Sighing, Bill looks at the other end of the bar, eager to avoid eye contact with the woman who knows him the best. “Yes.”
“Where do you think he is now?”
“Jonathon? I don’t know. I just hope that he’s doing well for himself. That’s all I want to hear. I don’t need a hug from him, I don’t need his forgiveness, I just need to hear that he’s doing fine. That’s all I want to know. I just want to know that my little bro is doing well.”
“With that Harvey blood, I’m sure he is.”
“Maybe.” Bill shrugs. “And maybe not. But enough about lost souls, Kate. Let’s solve this case quickly, so I don’t have to confront anymore of these emotions.”
His grin covers the fact that what he’s saying is true.
He would much rather be in the thick of the action, knee-deep in investigation and adrenaline, than having the time to listen to the thoughts in his own head.
“What do you need me to do, Bill?” Kate smirks, happy that she had dug Bill out of the hole before he spent the rest of the night sitting on the same bar stool. Another beer is placed in front of Kate, and her eyes light up again.
“There’s not a lot you can—” Bill grimaces as Kate gulps down half the pint in one motion. “There’s not a lot you can do at the moment.”
“Come on, Bill.” She swipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “There must be something I can help with. Let me help you. I really want to.”
He draws a long breath. “If you really want, you can look into Michelle Hardgrave. Do a little bit of digging around, but don’t get close to her. I imagine that she’s dangerous, so don’t confront her at all. Just ask around, search the Internet, that sort of thing. I want to find out how she spends her days, who she’s close to, where her income comes from, how she supports herself. That sort of thing.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
“But be careful, ok? Don’t get too close to the fire.”
“Yes, boss,” she replies with a cheeky grin. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to meet with the prosecution, and then I’m going to find out more about these drug dealers. They’re the key to the López case, and possibly the Hardgrave case. I have to get close enough to them to find out what they know, and who they know.”
“You promise you will be careful as well, Bill.” The joy escapes Kate’s face. Her serious side has returned to tell off the man that she cares about. “They’ve killed before, and they won’t hesitate to do it again. These men are dangerous drug dealers. Very dangerous. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Bill smiles again, his heart rate increasing. “Yes, boss.”
Chapter 11
Bill Harvey’s shoulders tighten, the grip on his briefcase strengthens, the muscles in his face stiffen. The walk through the corridors leading to the prosecution’s office always raises his heart rate.
The anticipation of not knowing what’s coming builds the exhilaration. He loves the pressure that comes with the first meeting – the meeting that can make or break a case.
He doesn’t have to meet face-to-face with the prosecuting attorney, but he never misses this opportunity. He’s looking for that one small crack in their armor, that one brief moment where they hesitate to answer a question, that one quick glance to the left to cover a lie. So many times this meeting has allowed him to follow a line of investigation that he hadn’t previously considered; a small thought that grew to change a case.
Conversely, the prosecution might sense Bill’s apprehension to answer a question, and it will allow them to pounce. He has to play this game well.
The risks are high – but so are the rewards.
Much the same way that Bill lives his life.
“Mr. Bill Harvey, it’s been a while,” the prosecutor stands at the door, welcoming him into her clean, open office.
“Miss Shannon Chettle. It’s always a pleasure.”
After attending law school together, Bill Harvey and Shannon Chettle have confronted each other in the courtroom numerous times over the past ten years. A feisty spirit with an energetic attitude, she has the ability to turn the case on its head with one well-placed statement.
Her use of the English language leaves many in awe. Despite being Chicago born, she spent her teenage years boarding at an exclusive school in London; the slight English accent is still noticeable, and a little seductive.
“When was the last time I was up against you?” Chettle walks to the head of her table, taking small steps in her tight, pencil skirt, and opens the file on her laptop while Bill takes a seat in front of her desk.
“Shannon, I think the last time you were up against me was late on Friday night after we settled on a case earlier that day…”
“Oh yes…” Chettle’s mind drifts back to the last time she saw Bill. She twirls her hand through her long dark hair as she remembers the passionate night three years ago. It was a moment of release; a moment of sexual tension and passion so fiery that it exploded into a mind-blowing night. “You look as formidable and as attractive as the last time I saw you, Bill. Age has been kind to you.”
“And you’re still as pretty.” He smiles. “But that isn’t what we’re here to
talk about.”
“Ah, yes…” Chettle scrolls through what’s on the computer screen. “The remarkable case of the innocent drug dealer. A briefcase full of drugs was found in his apartment, next to his bed, no less. A street value of $50,000, I hear. Of course, the drugs weren’t his, were they, Bill?”
“That’s what he claims.”
“And what do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Shannon. It only matters what the twelve people in the jury box think based on the evidence. That’s what we do. You must know that by now.”
“But you must have an opinion, Bill? You, the great Bill Harvey, must have an opinion on whether or not your client is guilty.”
“I have an opinion.”
“And please, feel free to share your opinion with me.”
“My opinion is that you look beautiful.”
“About the case.” Chettle grins and pushes a strand of brunette hair behind her ear.
“The case.” Bill sits back in his chair, crosses one leg over the other, and looks around the perfectly maintained office. Only a perfectionist could keep an office this organized. “I think that the evidence is weak. I think that the whole case is weak. I think you’re making a mistake by putting this man on trial. A big mistake. And it isn’t going to look very good for your office when you lose. You should just admit defeat and walk away now. Drop the charges and be done with it. Let an innocent man walk free.”
“And why would we even bother with a fragile case, Bill? The courts are too busy, and the prisons are overcrowded, you know. We only go after the ones we need to.” Chettle makes eye contact. Her deep blue eyes are mesmerizing, and Bill struggles to maintain focus.
“We both know why you’re pressing ahead with this case. You’re not after my client, you couldn’t care less about him. Despite the fact that my client is an upstanding citizen, who dedicates his time to helping those recovering from drug addiction, you want to persecute him for someone else’s crime. This is a man that does good in the world, and you’re willing to sacrifice his future to capture someone else. That’s not justice.”
“I’m afraid that I’m not completely sure what you’re talking about.” Chettle plays the game.
“You’re after Juan Lewis. You want to pressure Carlos until he cracks, and then put him on the stand against Lewis. I can see that the cops even thought that Lewis was in the apartment when the raid occurred. My client is just an innocent bystander, and you’re going after the wrong man. Let him walk away and help others. Let him help people recover from their drug addiction. Focus your attention on the real criminals. Like you said, you don’t have time to chase this case.”
“You must have read a different police report to the one I read because I didn’t see that piece of information in there anywhere. Could you please point that out to me?”
“It’s about reading between the lines. Of course the police wouldn’t admit to a mistake like that. But that’s who they wanted. They wanted Lewis. My client is an innocent bystander. An innocent man.”
“Your client has a history of drug convictions. He’s not as innocent as you claim he is.”
“Carlos did the time for those crimes, and that was ten years ago. He’s out of the game and clean now. He’s an innocent man, and he has been for years. He helps people; he doesn’t destroy them. He’s dedicated his life to helping others recover from the scourge of drugs.”
“Innocent men don’t get caught with a briefcase full of drugs in their apartment.”
“And innocent cops don’t put briefcases in people’s apartments.”
“Good luck proving that in court, Bill.”
When Chettle saw Bill Harvey’s name on the defendant’s notes, she was delighted. Her months were becoming a boring slog of case after case, charge after charge, late night after late night. To confront a man with Bill Harvey’s reputation in the courtroom invigorated her desire. It recharged her enthusiasm for law. Today, for their first meeting, she wore her best suit, one that she only bought a week before, and added an extra spray of her best perfume.
It’s having the desired effect on her opponent. She can tell it in his eyes.
“You have a bigger office than the last time I saw you,” Bill states, looking around at the newly renovated space. “I see that you even have your name on the door.”
“My career is on the up. I work hard, and I’m getting the rewards for that. The people here respect me, and I’m well-known through the department. That’s what happens when you work hard.”
“That must be nice,” he quips. “Tell me about one of the officers, Detective Matthew Pitt.”
“Pitt? He wasn’t the lead detective on this case.”
“No, but he was present at the time of the raid. According to the police report, four detectives and four officers made the raid. Pitt was one of the detectives. Tell me about him.”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking?”
“Do you trust him?”
“Of course.” Chettle’s brows come together in confusion. “He’s an outstanding officer and a good man. He’s never had a problem. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Do you think he has any links to the case?”
“Other than the raid? No.” Chettle shakes her head. Even if she did, she wouldn’t give that information away now, and Bill knows that. He’s testing the waters, checking to see if she flinches under the questions about the integrity of one of the detectives.
She doesn’t.
“Nothing that Internal Affairs would know about?”
“No, Bill. Nothing.”
What he has done is planted the seed of doubt in the prosecutor’s mind. With the added pressure, she might make a small mistake.
And that’s all he needs.
Bill uncrosses his leg and leans his elbows on the large mahogany table. The table has been polished within an inch of its life; so pristine that he can see his reflection in it.
“How about we just drop this case now and save ourselves some time? If you want Lewis, then go after him. Go after the big fish. Don’t play this game of cat and mouse. Don’t put an innocent man behind bars for the sake of one of his cousins. That’s not what we got into law for. We got into law to uphold justice – and this isn’t justice.”
“This is about justice. Justice for the people on the street. The ones that have had their lives destroyed because of the drugs that are available to them. This is about cleaning up those streets for the children of the future. Carlos López is a drug dealer. He will do time. That’s justice. And you know the deals that are on the table. Your client either provides information and testifies against Lewis, or we charge him.”
“How much information do you need to strike a deal?”
“We need enough information to stop Lewis and his operations. It has to be enough so that we can charge Lewis with a crime that will do prison time. If the drugs belonged to Lewis, then we need your client to state that.”
“You want him to testify in court?”
“That’s right. Without a testimony from Mr. López that the drugs weren’t his and belonged to Juan Lewis, then we cannot let him walk away. That’s the only deal that’s on the table. Nothing else.”
“Doesn’t sound fair.”
“Don’t try and convince yourself that your client is innocent. I can guarantee you that he’s not. He’s not an innocent man. The only reason he spends time volunteering with drug addicts is because he feels guilty for all the pain and suffering he has caused in the past. His hand in the drug game hurt people. He hurt families. Destroyed them. He has a history of crime and has spent time behind bars. People don’t change, Bill.”
“People do change.” Bill’s fist clenches. “Carlos has done his time for the crimes he committed, and it changed him. It changed his perspective. He’s a good man now. And I won’t let a good man go to prison for a crime that he hasn’t committed.”
“Don’t believe the lies. Deep down, Carlos is still a drug
dealer. He’s still a criminal. It’s in his blood.”
“No.” Bill puts his hand heavily on the table, bringing a slight look of surprise from Chettle. “People do change. People redeem themselves. Carlos has done that. He did wrong in his past and now spends his time making it right. He has changed. He has redeemed himself. And he shouldn’t go to prison for something that he didn’t do.”
Chettle leans back slightly, surprised to see such raw emotion from a man that’s usually so measured. “You obviously feel very strongly about this.”
“People can redeem themselves, Shannon.”
“Maybe.” She shrugs. “But if Carlos isn’t going to give us what we want, then we’re going to court.”
“I will defend the innocent.” Standing, Bill places his index finger down firmly on the table. “I will make sure that an innocent man doesn’t go to prison.”
Chettle grins, bites her bottom lip, and whispers, “I really do like it when you’re angry, Bill.”
In a huff, he turns and leaves the office, disappointed that he let out such a display of raw emotion.
He needs to get his emotions in check during the trial, or Chettle will use it against him. The problem is, these deep-seated emotions aren’t something that whiskey can fix.
But he’s still going to try.
Chapter 12
Slightly hungover, Bill Harvey arrives at the Huntington Park coffee shop thirty minutes before his scheduled meeting.
He sits in a quiet corner, calming his thumping head with two Advil and two large coffees, before turning his thoughts to his meeting.
The coffee shop is generic in its décor, but edgy in its artwork. A black and white life drawing of a naked woman – clearly the barista – hangs on one wall, and a black and white photo of a half-naked man, dressed in a skirt, hangs on the other wall. Edgy, but not quite offensive.
The coffee barely tickles Bill’s taste buds, but the warming liquid eases his throat. With his head down, trawling through emails on his phone, he’s caught off guard by the arrival of Juan Lewis.
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