by Dave Daren
Vicki turned to me with excited eyes and began to whisper. “He is exactly how you described, and yet he’s so much better than I could have imagined.”
“Easy, tiger,” I said, “don’t say anything that might offend his… western sensibilities.”
“Howdy!” Bill yelled as he got closer to the three of us. “How y’all doing this fine, fine evening?”
We all mumbled some version of “okay” and Bill resumed. “Now I know Henry from wayback, and I met this little lady last week,” he said gesturing to AJ. “But I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making acquaintance with you, ma’am.” He tipped his cap to Vicki, who couldn’t hide her blushing cheeks.
“Pleased to meet you, Bill,” Vicki gasped, but then she covered her mouth with her hand, and I wondered if she was trying to keep from giggling.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he drawled. “It has been many fortnights since I last laid eyes on anyone as positively radiant as you out here in this lonely desert.”
“Oh Bill,” she began teasingly, “you probably say that to all the Korean American female lawyers from Los Angeles you meet, no need to flatter me.”
“You wound me,” Bill protested. “But I can tell from the way ‘ole Henry looks at ya, that I best be mindin’ my P’s and Q’s.” Bill’s words caused AJ to immediately start giggling. Her giggles caused Vicki to blush again, and I wondered if I was such a bad actor that everyone picked up that Vicki and I were… whatever we were.
“Alright, alright,” I said. “Bill, we asked to meet with you because we need a man of your particular skill set.”
“Is that so now?” He asked. “Miss Anjanette here said as much and on account of how kind hearted she is I agreed to meet with ya despite how much I was pained by your rebuff of my business proposal at our last meetin’.”
“I understand, hopefully--” I began before he interjected.
“No need to kowtow around me, Henry,” he said. “You need someone found who can’t be found. I’m your huckleberry. Who’s the runner?”
“Justin Pell,” I said matter-of-factly.
Bill let out a loud whistle into the otherwise silent Sedona evening. “What’s he runnin’ from?”
“This subpoena,” I said and handed him the notice. “He has to appear tomorrow and has gone to ground.”
“Easy enough,” Bill said.
“There is slightly more to it than that,” Vicki added.
“Do tell,” Bill responded.
“We think... we think he may be dead. Killed by the Russian mob, the same people--” she said before he cut her off.
“The same folks you reckon killed your man Gerard,” he reasoned. Evidentially news of Gerard’s death traveled quickly.
“The very same,” I said.
He turned back to me, “That certainly ups the ante, now don’t it?”
“I know it’s going to be tough but what’s your asking price, Bill?” I asked.
He laughed heartily and Vicki and I exchanged a look. “I don’t take kindly to Ruskis or gangsters ‘round these parts. I ain’t scared of ‘em, and these six-shooters ain’t for show,” he said and gestured to the pistols on his hips. “I’ll find your man, or what’s left of him if they got him first. Don’t worry about money, all I need by means of compensation is a meeting.”
“A meeting?” I asked.
“I did a bit a Googlin’ on you and I see you’re friendly with Cindy Holland, Vice President of Original Content at Netflix,” he explained. “I know you got her number in your phonebook and can get me a pitch meeting.”
My stomach sank, I couldn’t promise to get him a meeting. “I can call her and try to set a meeting up for you, but it would be a lie to say I can promise you that she’ll agree.”
“Henry, I trust ya,” he said as he reached out to shake my hand, “You say you’re gonna try for me, you’re gonna try your best. Now you make your end of the bargain happen, and I’ll make mine. I’ll have Justin Pell at that deposition of yours tomorrow, dead or alive.” I shook his hand, and the deal was sealed.
“Uhh, we kind of need him alive,” I pointed out.
“Sure thing,” Bill said with a wink and a nod.
“Ummm, hi,” AJ chimed in, and all eyes turned to her. “Since I’m going to write a book about this and all, I was… ummmm… wondering if maybe I could tag along with Bill and see his part of how this story unfolds?”
“I dunno if that’s--” I began.
“Giddyup!” Bill interrupted, “You’re ridin’ shotgun in the Dart to witness a good old fashioned manhunt!”
With that, AJ and Bill walked back to Bill’s old beater and drove away. Vicki and I took a step toward my car, but then she took my hand in hers, leaned her head against my shoulder, and gestured to the lights of Sedona.
“The view from the overlook is really pretty,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I squeezed her hand and tried to forget about the Russian Mafia killing people and framing my sister.
“Does anyone here do things for money, or is everything a shady quid pro quo barter transaction?” she chuckled.
I laughed and gave her a kiss on the head as we continued to look at the beautiful city below.
“Welcome to Sedona.”
Chapter 17
The next morning we began the first of what should have been three depositions if it hadn’t been for Gerard’s murder. To say it was going poorly was a bit of an understatement. Our first deposition was Leonard Colby, the Sedona PD detective who filed the crime scene report for the art critic’s murder. He was a nice guy, but his lawyer was a lot less friendly.
“He doesn’t need to answer that, it's in the crime scene report,” the fat man snorted out before Detective Leonard Colby could answer. The heavyset man, Stephen Jahai, was the police union lawyer from Phoenix who was representing Leonard at the deposition. He was nearly three hundred pounds of balding bulldog stuffed into a grey JCPenny suit and was in full attack mode.
I had known Leonard forever, but he was the lead detective on Harmony’s case and I had found many inconsistencies in his report that I wanted him to answer. I didn’t think he was malicious toward Harmony, my guess was that Harmony was the easy answer to him, he didn’t have to work too hard to see her guilt, and the confirmation bias did the rest. However, right now, getting him to answer my questions without his lawyer telling him not to was my top priority.
“I know what the report says,” I replied calmly, “but I am entitled to have an answer to the methodology and the decision-making process Detective Colby used when reaching his conclusion.”
The other attorney harrumphed, but assented with a nod to Leonard.
“Well, ummm,” the detective began, “it made sense that there would be blood on her clothes since she stabbed the critic.”
“As we now know, there actually was no blood on her clothes, or on her skin or under her fingernails, correct?” I asked.
“That-- that is correct, Henry,” he answered.
“If you had known during your investigation of the hot crime scene that her clothes were not actually bloody, would that have changed the direction of your investigation?”
“This conjecture is a waste of time,” the police lawyer announced.
I turned to him. “I have the detective for up to seven hours, so he’ll have to humor me with some conjecture.”
“If I had known that her clothes weren’t bloody I might have been slightly less inclined to suspect that Ms. Irving was the killer, but for the record that wouldn’t be exculpatory if all the other evidence indicated that it was her, which it did,” he explained.
“In your mind, detective, other than the ‘bloody clothes’ what were the other pieces of evidence that implicated Harmony?” I asked.
“The murder weapon being found in her possession is the most damaging, followed by her proximity to the murder, followed by the security camera footage, and then her obvious motive,” he listed.
“Since we can eliminate the camera footage, and her motive is the same as a dozen other Sedona artists, let’s talk about the murder weapon. Did anyone other than Harmony Irving have access to the gallery?” I enquired.
“One other individual was known to have a key to the gallery,” he answered.
“And who was that?”
“Gerard Chamberlin.”
“Since cell phone GPS data places Chamberlin near the scene at the time of the murder, is it at all possible that he placed the knife in Harmony’s toolbox?” I asked.
“It-- it’s possible. But I wasn’t aware he was at the scene,” he protested.
“Is it standard investigative procedure to find all possible suspects and attempt to eliminate them from guilt, or to find a single suspect who seems most likely and focus on them?” I asked, and years of theatrical and legal experience was the only thing that kept me from rolling my eyes.
“It--it’s…” he stammered and trailed off before resuming, “In criminology we’re taught to find all potential suspects and investigate them all until only one is left.”
“Was there a reason you didn’t investigate Mr. Chamberlin as a potential suspect?” I asked.
“I wasn’t aware he was at the scene at the time,” Detective Colby answered.
“Of course,” I said. That was the sort of thing he’d have learned while doing a proper investigation if he hadn’t tunnel visioned on Harmony. I would make that point to the jury when I get him on the stand at the trial, but for now I’ll keep it to myself to avoid tipping my hand too much.
“So, would you say that it’s possible that Mr. Chamberlin could have performed the murder and planted the weapon in Harmony’s tools?” I asked.
“More conjecture, how is this relevant?” The bloated attorney asked.
“Again,” I said as I turned to him, “we have all day, and Detective Colby is a qualified expert on the subject so his conjectures have a lot of meaning to me, and probably to a jury, so I’d like his answer on the record. Please continue, Leonard.”
“It’s possible,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Louder please, for the stenographer,” I insisted firmly.
“Yes, it is possible he did that,” he said as tears began to well up in his eyes.
“And to secure a conviction, you agree that evidence against the accused has to be beyond a reasonable doubt, correct?” I asked.
“Y--yes.”
“So would you agree, then, that there is at least some doubt now that Harmony may have been the murderer?” I asked.
“Henry… I’m sorry…” He said with the tears streaming down his face. “Tell Harmony I’m so sorry.”
Probably for the first time in his life, the other lawyer was too flabbergasted to talk, but I remained stoned faced.
“Leonard, we need a direct answer to the question for the record,” I insisted.
He fought back his tears. “Y--yes, I agree in my professional opinion there is currently doubt.”
I looked over at Vicki who was sitting against the wall away from the table behind the stenographer. She shot me two thumbs up, and I turned back to Colby’s lawyer. “Mr. Jahai, Mr. Leonard, thank you for your time today, that’s all the questions I have for you.”
We all stood, I shook hands with Mr. Jahai, and then walked over to Colby. “That was tough, I’m sorry Colby.”
“It’s okay, Henry,” he said, still a bit shaken. “You’re just doing your job. I just wish… I just wish I had done my job better.”
“We’ll get past it,” I said and gave him a quick hug. “You didn’t do anything bad on purpose. It’s like I told you when we first talked at the police department, we’d get to the bottom of it. I’m not sure we’re at the bottom yet exactly, but we’re getting there.”
Colby began to walk out of the room, but turned back before he got to the door. “Any chance you’d still be up to grab that beer we talked about once all this is over with?” He asked.
“Definitely,” I answered and gave him a nod.
The door closed behind him, the stenographer told us she would be back after lunch for the next deposition, got up, and followed Colby out. It was just Vicki and I in the large conference room, and I fell back down into the chair with a loud “oof.”
“That was a thing of beauty,” Vicki complimented me. “You got a cop, with his lawyer present, to admit to gross incompetence and dereliction of duty. I don’t think I could be any more turned on by you than I am right now.” She took a step toward me with a devilish look in her eyes, but I stopped her by pointing to the video camera that was recording the deposition and was still recording everything that went on in the room.
“Might want to turn that off,” I suggested.
“I thought every guy wanted to make a tape,” she said with a whisper to avoid it being picked up by the camera.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I replied with equally low volume. “But I’d rather any video projects we worked on didn’t get entered as evidence in the public record.”
“It’s Sedona,” she replied with a giggle, “we can just tell them it’s performance art.” I laughed and walked over and turned off the camera while she locked the door to the conference room.
“We have about two hours until Justin is officially supposed to be here, assuming Bill can find him,” I said. “How could we possibly fill that time?” I put my finger over my lip and looked at the ceiling as if in deep thought.
“I was your paralegal so I’m very good at managing your daily calendar,” she said as she slowly walked toward me and unbuttoned her blouse. “I have a task for you that I’ve moved very high up on your to-do list. It involves a private room in a library.”
“Oh, really?” I smirked. “We just so happen to be in a room in a library that has a door with a lock on it.”
“Yep,” Vicki whispered, “and there is a nice table here. First task is to see how sturdy it is.”
“I can’t wait to tackle all of my responsibilities,” I said right before our lips embraced.
After a solid hour of hard work, I had finished everything Vicki had for me on her to-do list, and we dressed and straightened up our hair. I checked my watch and saw we had about another hour until Agent Palko would arrive, and the stenographer would be back for Justin’s deposition. I grabbed my phone and checked my texts or missed calls for about the millionth time today.
Nothing.
I had a bit of regret about letting AJ go with Bloodhound Bill into what could be a very dangerous situation. I sent her a text asking for an update, but hadn’t gotten a response to my first one before Colby’s deposition, so I didn’t think she would respond to this one.
“Anything from AJ?” Vicki asked with worry plain on her voice.
“No, not yet,” I frowned.
“I hope nothing bad happened to them,” she said.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I explained. “One thing you get used to living here is that there are tons of places that are outside of cell service. If I was going to hide from the world, places like this are where I’d pick to do it.”
“I’m sure she’ll call us once she gets back in the range of a tower then,” she added with a more upbeat tone. “You wanna grab lunch before we reconvene? I kinda want more Fiery Burrito.”
“You read my mind,” I said. “But this time I might get the margarita to calm my nerves a bit before Justin’s deposition.”
“That is decidedly unlike you,” she declared with a raised eyebrow.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I answered.
We finished lunch and returned to the library conference room with plenty of time to spare. The septuagenarian stenographer had returned and resumed her post along with her completely stone-faced expression. During Leonard’s entire emotional deposition she hadn’t once shifted her expression, in fact the only acknowledgment that she was even paying attention was the fact that she did keep an accurate transcript.
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br /> Agent Palko, the FBI agent who was coming from Flagstaff to present the deal to Justin was going to be arriving soon, I couldn’t really think about the possibility of Bill and AJ not completing their mission.
I had to trust that Bill was every bit as good as he said he was and would get the job done. If worse came to worse, Detective Leonard’s deposition could possibly win the case by itself.
But I wanted a slam dunk and having Justin admit his part in the scenario would help get the actual killer behind bars.
Right on time, Agent Palko arrived and walked into the conference room carrying a briefcase. Unlike when we first met, he was wearing a jacket today, and we made our introductions before settling in our chairs.
Then we waited for a miracle.
At one in the afternoon, no Bill, no AJ, and no Justin, and I could hear my heart start to beat quicker in my chest. We had the conference room and stenographer until five, but after that we’d have to go home empty handed and turn over discovery without Justin’s testimony. Worst of all, Agent Palko would head back up to Flagstaff with the deal, and there was a good chance we wouldn’t get another shot.
As the hours ticked by, we each busied ourselves as best we could. Agent Palko typed away on his laptop, Vicki played Words With Friends on her phone with Kendrick, the stenographer stared straight ahead at the wall like an emotionless robot, and I countered my nerves by planning a voir dire strategy for the trial.
At fifteen until five, Agent Palko closed his laptop and put it back in his briefcase.
“I’m going back to Flagstaff,” he announced matter-of-factly. “If Pell turns up one way or, you know, the other let us know since we have a lot of questions for him.”
“Agent Palko, please give us the last fifteen minutes,” I implored.
He looked down at his watch and sighed. “Okay, you got that much.”
I looked over at Vicki who had fallen asleep, and right as I did my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was a Sedona area code so I answered.
