"So what?" Brunelle complained. "So I'm the other prosecutor. If Freddy took up the feud for our victim, then I'm pretty sure I'm on Team George too."
Duncan stared at Brunelle for several seconds. "That's crazy, Dave."
"I know, I know. But this whole damn thing is crazy."
Duncan nodded. "Okay, fine. You're Team George. So what?"
"So I'm in the goddamn blood feud now, that's what."
"Good," Duncan grinned.
"Good?" Brunelle shook his head at Duncan. "What's good about that?"
"Well, they made the last move," Duncan explained. "As long as you don't kill anyone on their team, you should be fine."
Brunelle thought about it for a moment, then started nodding. "Okay, yeah. That makes sense."
"Unless another one of Quilcene's family happens to get offed in random gang violence and they think you did it."
Brunelle's shoulders dropped. "Oh, great. What do I do if that happens.?"
Duncan smiled darkly. "Get co-counsel."
Brunelle shook his head. "Great. Thanks, Matt. Very helpful."
He stood up and headed for the door.
"Hey, Dave?" Duncan called out after him.
Brunelle turned around. "Yeah?"
"Maybe the best cure for Team George is a Team Dave."
Brunelle narrowed his eyes, not understanding.
"It's okay to have people on your team, Dave," Duncan explained. "You've got lots of friends. Lean on them if you have to."
Brunelle considered for a moment. "Okay, Matt. Thanks." Then he turned and walked out, giving the doorframe a light punch as he passed.
Chapter 20
Kat's office was the last one on the left. Just off the examining room. Brunelle could never understand how she could sit at a desk so close to the stench of death. He supposed she must not even notice it any more.
"Knock, knock," he said as he tapped on her doorframe. "Surprise."
She looked up from her computer and took in the sight of him. Her expression was difficult to decipher. Either she was happy to see him then tried to hide it, or she was happy to see him then changed her mind.
"Oh. It's you." She turned back to her screen. "Who let you in?"
"Jody," Brunelle replied. "Homicide prosecutors get waved right in."
"Pity," Kat said without looking at him. "They should be more careful."
Brunelle shifted his weight. "Look." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. This case has gotten under my skin and, um, well: sorry."
Kat finally looked away from her monitor. She spun in her seat to fully face him. "Sorry, huh? Sorry for what?"
There was an unmistakable edge to her voice.
"Um," Brunelle started. "Sorry it seemed like I was using you to review autopsy reports for me the other night."
Kat nodded. "Uh huh." She pursed her lips. "Seemed like?"
Brunelle frowned. "Right." He cast his eyes downward. "I'm sorry I did use you to review autopsy reports for me the other night."
Kat offered another small nod. Then she just sat there. After a few moments, she spread her hands. "Anything else?"
"Uh, well," Brunelle stammered, "like I said, this case has really gotten to me and—"
"No, dumbass," Kat interrupted. "Anything else you're sorry for?"
"Uh…." Brunelle felt a dump of adrenaline. This was going deeper than he'd planned. "I'm sorry I did it over dinner?" he tried. "When we were supposed to be having a date."
Kat's eyes narrowed. "No, not that. Jesus, David…" She crossed her arms and shook her head. "How about you're sorry you haven't called me for four months? How about you're sorry you made me think we had something special when I guess we really didn't? Or, if we did, then how about you're sorry you didn't follow up on it? How about you're sorry you made me think I was just another woman you charmed to get whatever it was you wanted? How about you're sorry for not returning my calls, or replying to my emails, or acknowledging me at all? Not even a curt, rude, 'Busy. Will call soon.' How about you're sorry for leaving it to me to explain to my daughter why this really great guy suddenly disappeared? How about you're sorry for being a complete asshole and treating me like garbage? How about that?"
Brunelle was dumbstruck. The adrenaline dump proceeded in earnest and his mind raced to catch up with his feelings. He just stood there.
"Um," he said finally. "Yeah, that. Sorry about all that too."
Kat sneered and shook her head again. "Wow. Really? That's the best you can do? 'Sorry for all that too'? Damn it, David, I thought you were better than that. I guess not."
She turned back to her work.
Brunelle ran a hand over his head. "Uh, look. I— Um…" He caught himself and took a deep breath. "I was scared."
Kat scoffed. "Scared?" she repeated derisively without looking back at him. "Well, I'm sorry that needy Miss Kat scared little David."
"No, no. Not scared by you. For you." When Kat still didn't look at him, he added, "And Lizzy."
That had the desired effect. Kat turned to glare at him. "Lizzy?"
Brunelle finally stepped all the way into the office and sat in the one plastic guest chair Kat had managed to jam into the closet-like space. "Look," he said, gazing down. "You're an M.E. You chop up bodies that are already dead and testify about what killed them. If it weren't for evidence rules, I wouldn't even need you to testify about that. Any moron knows that when you get shot in the head three times, you die. But I can't argue that in closing unless a witness actually says it out loud. And only an expert can give an opinion as to cause of death. So fine, I call you, you get out of this cheery office for an afternoon, and that's the end of it for you."
He paused and looked at her.
"At least, that's supposed to be the end of it. But I don't deal with dead bodies. I deal with live bodies. Defendants. Murder defendants, who have no qualms about making more dead bodies.
"After out last case together, I realized I didn't understand that well enough. I don't have kids. You do. Believe me, there are plenty of times I picked up the phone to call you. Not a night went by that I didn't want to drive over to your place. But I thought of Lizzy and I just couldn't do it."
Kat listened expressionless. She stared at him for a few more seconds, her expression still inscrutable. "You expect me to believe that?"
Brunelle shrugged. "I don't know. Believe it or don't. It's the truth."
Another few seconds of Kat staring at him. Finally, she said, "Really?"
Brunelle ventured a tentative smile. "Really. I'm sorry, Kat. I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't interested, or that you weren't worth it. I just—"
"You should have told me, David," Kat said softly. "You can talk to me, you know. I have ears."
Brunelle smiled more fully. "And what lovely ears they are."
Kat crossed her arms. "Is this the part where you try to charm me?"
Brunelle allowed himself a small laugh. "No, this is the part were I use flattery to deflect the conversation from deep emotional topics I'm not comfortable discussing."
Kat surrendered her own laugh. "Bravo, sir."
Brunelle affected a bow. "Thank you, milady."
Kat's mouth twisted into a reluctant frown, but her eyes softened. "So we're okay?"
Brunelle nodded. "Yeah, we're okay. But I'm going to worry. That's just going to have to be a part of it."
"Good." Kat smiled.
"Good?" Brunelle cocked his head.
"Yes, good." Her smile broadened. "Worrying means you care."
"I worry, therefore I care," Brunelle said. "Very Cartesian."
Kat laughed. "'Cartesian'? Wow. Huge word."
Brunelle flashed a grin. "This is the part where I try to impress you with my intellect in order to avoid deep emotional topics I'm not comfortable discussing."
Kat shook her head. "Okay, okay, Mr. Sensitive. I won't get greedy. That was more of a heartfelt apology than I even thought you were capable of."
Brunelle lowered his eyebrows. "Thanks. I think."
"So, shall we try for dinner again?" Kat asked. "Just you and me and no autopsy reports on smartphones?"
"Sounds good," Brunelle was quick to answer. "This Saturday?"
"Make it Friday," Kat replied.
"Why?"
"Because I said so," Kat purred. "You're not in charge, David. Get used to it."
Brunelle rubbed his chin. "Okay. Whatever you say, boss. Dinner. Friday. I'll pick you up at six."
"Five-thirty."
Brunelle grimaced, but it slipped quickly into a true smile as he met her eyes. "Sure, boss. Five-thirty. See you then."
"See you then," Kat confirmed.
Brunelle started to walk out when Kat added, "David?"
He turned back. "Yeah?"
She shrugged and smiled. She had the best smile. "Thanks for stopping by."
Brunelle smiled back. "No problem. Glad I did. See you Friday."
And as he walked down the hallway, he patted himself on the back for not asking Kat to pull strings to get Freddy's autopsy report. That would have ruined it.
He just had to figure out how ask it on Friday.
Chapter 21
Part II of Team David had to wait for the next day when Brunelle clacked down the same basement hallway beneath the Seattle P.D. headquarters. Chen pushed himself up from his spot leaning on the evidence room's front counter.
"We have to stop meeting like this," he quipped.
"Beats standing over a dead body in the rain," Brunelle replied as he reached the counter.
Chen shrugged. "Depends on what you're into."
"I'm into dry," Brunelle said. "Thanks for making time to go through the evidence with me. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so, but it's gotta get done. The omnibus hearing is in two weeks."
"Can't you lawyers speak English?" Chen teased. "Why do they call it an 'omnibus' hearing?"
Brunelle rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I think 'omni' is Latin for everything. When I first started, an old lawyer told me it was the hearing where the judge made sure everything was on the bus and the bus is ready to leave the station. All pretrial motions are done, witness lists exchanged, witness interviews completed. Everything. So trial can start as scheduled, with no lawyers asking for a continuance because the dog ate their homework."
Chen raised an eyebrow. "And how much of all that have you done yet?"
"None of it," Brunelle groaned. "Except maybe an awkward half-assed interview of the defense's star 'the-bastard-deserved-it' witness."
"The bastard did deserve it," Chen said.
"And you can shut up now," Brunelle shot back amicably. "Let's focus on what we're here to do, not on why we shouldn't bother. Evidence viewing. It's the first thing I do. You never know what you might find, and you want to lay eyes on all the shit people are going to talk about in their interviews."
"Makes sense," Chen replied. He tapped on the plexiglass. "Detective Chen and Prosecutor Brunelle here for our scheduled evidence viewing."
An evidence technician scurried to the window. This time it was a woman. Youngish, straight brown hair. "You got it, Detective. I've already put some of the items in the viewing room. You can go on in there. I'll bring in the rest in just a minute."
Chen thanked the officer and he and Brunelle walked the few feet to the evidence viewing room. They each pulled on a pair of latex gloves and Chen started thumbing through the numerous paper bags and boxes marked with only a case number and item number.
"What do you want to look at first?" he asked Brunelle.
"Let's start with the clothing," Brunelle answered. "The M.E. should have brought those over after the autopsy. I want to inspect the knife cuts. And check the pockets."
Chen referred to the property sheets then found the bags 'Items 42-44.' "Here you go. 'Clothes from autopsy.'"
"Great." Brunelle took them to the examining table, trying to decide whether to start with the cuts to the shirts or the contents of the pants pockets.
"Oh." Chen held up a lunch sack sized bag. "And here's his wallet."
Decision made. "Let's start there," Brunelle said. "Open the bag and let's see what Georgie Boy found important enough to keep in his wallet."
Chen extricated the wallet and handed it to Brunelle, who unfolded it and began extracting cards and bits of paper.
"Debit card," he called out the items as he removed them. "Grocery store receipt. Liquor store receipt. Expired glasses prescription. Bus transfer. Card from the mission."
He paused at the next one.
"What is it?" Chen asked.
Brunelle handed it to him. "It's a business card from a Seattle P.D. detective. 'James Henderson.' Why would he have that? Is that who he was supposed to register with?"
Chen frowned at the card, turning it over in his hand. "No, Henderson is one of our gang detectives. Young guy. They make the old farts pull registration duty."
"Gang detective?" Brunelle questioned. "Why would Traver have a gang detective's card?"
Chen held it up. "It's in good shape too. Not as beat up as the other crap in that wallet. He hadn't had it for long."
Just then, the evidence officer walked in with an armful of evidence bags and boxes. "Here's the rest of the stuff."
"Let me help you." Brunelle jumped in to take the less stable items off the top of the teetering pile.
"Thanks," the officer exhaled. She set her remaining load on the examining table. Brunelle went to follow suit, then noticed he was holding an oblong box labeled, "Item 1 - Knife - Biohazard."
It was too heavy to be empty.
His eyes widened. "What the hell is this?"
The officer squinted at the writing on the box. "That's the knife."
"The knife?" Chen looked up from his examination of Det. Henderson's card.
"Sure," the evidence officer replied. "Says so right there. Besides, I recognize the box."
Brunelle looked at Chen, then back at the young officer. "You recognize the box?"
"Yeah," she explained. "Another prosecutor came to look at it a while back. He didn't bring a detective like you, so I just went ahead and did the viewing with him. He just wanted to see the one thing, so I figured it would be okay."
She pointed to some red evidence tape on the box. "See, those are my initials from when I resealed it after the viewing."
Brunelle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We were here a few days ago and the evidence officer then told us that the knife had been checked out and never returned."
The officer frowned. "No, it never left. Although I had a heck of a time finding it just now. Somebody misplaced it with an entirely different case. An arson investigation from six months ago—still unsolved."
"Why would he say it was checked out and not returned?" Chen pressed.
The officer picked up the original property sheets from the table and examined them. "He probably just misread my stamp. If it's just a quick viewing and the item never leaves the front area, I only have them sign once. Just to show that it was looked at. There's no chain of custody issue because it never left my hands. So, really, why have them sign twice?"
"Why have them sign twice?" Brunelle almost shouted. "I'll tell you wh—"
"Understood, officer," Chen stepped in. "Thanks for explaining that. Do you remember anything else about the viewing? Did the other prosecutor say anything?"
The young woman took a moment to pull suspicious eyes from the still-glaring Brunelle. "Not really," she answered. "He didn't even touch it. He just had me hold it up to him so he could see the handle. It was a really nice handle, all intricate and carved and stuff." She paused and looked back to Brunelle. "You should look at it."
Brunelle closed his eyes again and nodded. "Yes. Yes, we should. Thanks."
Chen thanked the evidence officer too and she hurried back to her post, leaving the knife on the table.
Brunelle opened his eyes and laid a finger lightly on the box. "Damn it
," he whispered.
Chen put a hand on his shoulder. "Agreed."
Chapter 22
Sure enough, the knife was in the box, still strapped in with the original zip-ties. The handle was impressive indeed. Ivory and covered in Native American carvings and inscriptions, the significance of which Brunelle and Chen could only guess.
Brunelle added 'Native American murder weapon carved handle expert' to his mental witness list. Then they plodded through the rest of the evidence viewing. Brunelle tried to focus on the task at hand, but couldn't help but recall how fervently Freddy had denied taking the knife. And how fervently Brunelle had insisted he had.
But after the initial excitement of the gang detective's business card, and the horror of the not-missing knife, the evidence viewing revealed little of interest. They pulled off their gloves and called for the evidence officer to repackage the items.
Then they went upstairs to meet Detective James Henderson.
"Jimmy Henderson," the detective introduced himself as he shook Brunelle's hand. "Nice to meet you. Larry says you do homicides, so I guess it was just a matter of time 'til we met."
He wasn't all that young, but definitely a few years junior to Brunelle and Chen. Brunelle guessed thirty-five or so. He sported a shaved head, a neat goatee, and muscles that practically ripped the seams of his shirt. His office was decorated in a mix of pirated gang-thug photos and mixed martial arts trophies.
"What can I do for you gentleman?" Henderson asked as they all sat down in the small office.
Brunelle got right to it. "George Traver. Old, homeless, Native American guy."
Henderson tapped his lips. "Yeah, I know him. Long hair? Heavy-set dude?"
"Dead dude," Brunelle answered. "I didn't really notice his hair when I was standing over him with a knife sticking out of his chest."
Henderson frowned and slapped the arm of his chair. "Really? Damn. I kinda liked him. I wondered why I hadn't heard from him in a bit."
"You kinda liked him?" Chen screwed up his face. "He was a child molester. And a registered sex offender who hadn't registered in over six months."
Tribal Court (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 2) Page 9
