“Yes,” Emmet said. “Do…not…call this man.”
“He’s a bad man.” Josh got up and started walking around in small circles. He stopped and swiped his long bangs off his forehead. “You’ve got to tell me the truth, Emmet. We’re friends. Did this man have something to do with what happened to my mom and Sam? Is that why Lara wants to catch him?” Suddenly the conversation he’d overheard between Emmet and Lara came back, and he knew he was right.
At first Emmet didn’t answer. Then he said, “Maybe.”
Josh flopped down in the chair again. It was one of those little chairs on rollers, and it slid a few feet on the hardwood floor. “I don’t believe it,” he kept saying. “I just don’t believe it. They know it’s him, but they don’t have enough evidence.” His eyes clouded over and he started thinking. They sat there without talking for a long time, maybe fifteen minutes, Emmet thinking too. Josh would look at Emmet and then look away. A few minutes later, Emmet would eye Josh and then his eyes would drift away involuntarily.
Outside, a couple of little kids were fighting over a Big Wheel and screaming at each other. Josh went to the open window and yelled at them. “Shut up, you little creeps. We’re trying to think in here.”
He sat back down and continued staring at the wall. “I’ve figured this whole thing out. They have to catch him, don’t they? They have to catch him doing something bad. Otherwise, they would have already arrested him. Right?” he said, looking straight at Emmet. “Right?”
Emmet pushed a button and the chair spun around. He blanked the game off the screen and stuck his head in the wire contraption. A second later, words were flashing across the screen, Emmet tapping like mad. “I will not tell Lara that you called this man. I made a promise. But you cannot call him again. They are not certain he was involved in your mother’s death, but he could be a very dangerous man. Let the police handle this. Now, you make a promise to me. Promise me you will not call this man again.”
Emmet stopped typing and spun around to face Josh. He was about to walk out of the bedroom, leaning against the door frame. “I can’t promise you that, Emmet. It was my mother. You understand, don’t you? It was my mother.”
Before Emmet could speak, Josh was out the door. Emmet hit the high speed on his electronic chair, but by the time he got to the living room, Josh had closed the front door. “Shit,” Emmet said. He pushed the controls and his chair moved forward. Then he pushed it again and it moved backward. Back and forth he moved, the chair squeaking on the plastic runners.
“Shit,” the little man said to the empty room.
At eleven-thirty the following morning, Rickerson walked into the squad room and checked everything. They had a slide projector, a screen, and a video setup. Next to the screen were two blackboards where they had outlined the facts of the case in chalk. There was also a cork board and baby Bradshaw had placed all the photos found in the San Clemente house on it with push pins. While he was standing there, one of the reserve officers came in carrying a large coffeepot. Another followed behind him with paper cups.
They were ready.
He took a seat and stared at his own writing on the board. Was it enough? He couldn’t be sure, but they were not charged with gaining enough evidence to convict him, just enough to get a warrant for this arrest and start the wheels of justice rolling.
Gail Stewart was the first to arrive. “Too bad we don’t have a computer set up,” she said.
“You think we need it?”
“Nan, we got enough.” She walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee. “You should have brought in lunch or something,” she told him.
“If all goes well, I’ll buy you the best lunch of your life, doll,” Rickerson told her.
“Sure,” she said, sipping the coffee, holding it with both hands up close to her face. “Where have I heard that line before?”
Lara and Judge Rodriguez walked in at twelve-fifteen. Right behind them was a tall, thin man in a suit and tie. Rickerson didn’t recognize him, so he assumed he was the justice from San Francisco. A few minutes later, the FBI agent arrived and took a seat, first stopping to pour himself a cup of coffee and chat with the chief. Lara was dressed in a plain white blouse and a black skirt, her hair again tied back in a clasp with a bow. She smiled at Rickerson and took a seat in the front row. Someone offered Rodriguez a cup of coffee, but he declined.
“Let’s begin,” Rickerson said, standing. As soon as everyone stopped talking and moving around in their seats, he began. “Okay, we are going to try to put this together chronologically. On July seventh, Ivory Perkins, Judge Sanderstone’s sister, came to her residence in Santa Ana in the early morning hours claiming that she was being followed. She refused to tell her sister any more than that and left some time later with her husband, Samuel Perkins.
“On September seventh, Judge Leo Evergreen approached Judge Sanderstone and suggested that she release a man named Packard Cummings on his own recognizance, even though the man had an extensive record, advising her that he was working as a confidential informant for an unidentified law enforcement agency. She complied. As of this date, no agency in the state of California, or any federal agency, has been able to verify this information.”
He waited, scanning the faces in the audience before continuing.
“The photos on the bulletin board behind me were found in the crawl space at the residence in San Clemente where Ivory and Sam Perkins were murdered on September eighth.” He noted the small judge leaning forward and squinting to see the pictures. “If you bear with me, we’ll show you slides of the enlargements of these photos.”
He paused and then continued, “Only a day prior to the homicides, Judge Sanderstone’s place was ransacked, as was the murder scene, the killer evidently looking for what you see on the board behind you. Prints lifted from her residence by the sheriff’s department’s crime-scene unit subsequently came back to Packard Cummings.
“On September twelfth, Packard Cummings was shot and killed in the parking lot of the Sea Breeze Apartments in Santa Ana, only a few blocks from Judge Sanderstone’s residence. There were no prints on the vehicle, but it appeared that he knew his assailant. His own weapon was found in the glove box.
“Three days ago, Judge Sanderstone was attacked in the underground parking garage at the courthouse, the suspect demanding that she give him these photographs. She copied down the license plate and vehicle description, and the suspect was apprehended last night. His name is Frank Door. He’s in custody. Judge Evergreen must have entered Judge Sanderstone’s chambers and typed out the order to release this man on her own computer terminal. He was a serious violent offender.
“Yesterday, Josh McKinley, the murdered woman’s son, positively identified Packard Cummings from a photo lineup as the man he saw leaving the scene of the murders on September eighth in a red Camaro. We also have forensic evidence such as tissue and semen from the victim that matches samples from Cummings. This is an important fact, since it connects Judge Evergreen to the homicides.
“Ivory Perkins had a client that went under the name of Tommy Black. The phone records of calls from the house in San Clemente revealed this, and the phone number comes back to an apartment, also rented under this name. A search of DMV records, however, reveals about fifteen Tommy Blacks in this immediate area. We’ve eliminated most of them. One got killed in a traffic accident, one’s in jail, another in a nursing home, and another is a seventeen-year-old boy, et cetera. Therefore, we believe this is a fictitious name adopted by Leo Evergreen. We need a warrant to search this apartment. Ivory Perkins’s fingerprints could be inside.
“Tommy Black also advertises himself as a video game expert and lists a toll-free number for young people to call for tricks and pointers. This phone number has been traced to that apartment. It appears that he lures young people this way, offering them free video games and other enticements. Then he gains their confidence, befriends them, and molests them.” Rickerson paused, facing his audience.
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“Gentlemen,” he said, “what we are dealing with is a desperate man who has now become a dangerous man. To be in a position such as Evergreen and be exposed and ultimately prosecuted for sexually abusing children, especially young boys, would be a certain disgrace. In addition, a fact Evergreen knows all too well is that child molesters do not fare well in prison. They are the scum of the prison system, the lowest of the low, and they are many times brutalized and even murdered inside the prison walls.”
Rickerson let his eyes fall and then looked back up. “We intend to prove to you that Judge Leo Evergreen and Tommy Black are one and the same, that Judge Evergreen is a pedophile, and that Judge Evergreen conspired to murder Sam and Ivory Perkins.” He nodded to Gail Stewart. “This is Dr. Gail Stewart of the Los Angeles County Crime Lab. She’s going to take it from here.”
Someone in the back dimmed the lights, and Rickerson took a seat next to Lara. “How am I doing?” he whispered.
“Great,” she said. “You sound like a prosecutor. You’ve almost convicted the bastard.”
The slide projector clicked and the first slide fell into place. “What you are seeing,” Dr. Stewart said, “are enlarged and enhanced images of the photographs on the board, the ones taken from the San Clemente house. As you can see, some of these are solo photos of nude prepubescent males. We have not identified these boys.” She stopped and another slide clicked into place. “This is the back of a nude male fondling the genitals of a young boy while someone else operates the camera. Although you may not be able to see it with the naked eye, this man suffers from scoliosis or curvature of the spine. Watch this next slide and you can see it better in enlargement. See,” she said, “note how the spine curves. If we had Judge Evergreen in custody, we could render a positive ID.”
A few moments later, Dr. Stewart was flicking through the slides until she came to the one she wanted. She stopped for a moment and took a sip of her coffee. “The next slide was developed from a mirror image enlarged from one of the photos found in the residence in San Clemente. What you are looking at is a photo on someone’s dresser, enlarged from one of the shots with the man we think is Evergreen and the boy. The man and woman in that photograph are Leo Evergreen’s wife and son.” That slide vanished and another dropped down. “This is a recent picture of Robert Evergreen. He’s several years older, but obviously it’s the same individual as in the first photo. Hit the lights,” she said. “That’s all I have.”
When Gail Stewart had taken a seat, Rickerson stood. “What this all adds up to should be evident by now. Judge Evergreen was seeing Ivory Perkins. Ivory Perkins was a prostitute. She called on him, somehow came across the compromising photos, and then she and her husband proceeded to blackmail him. He must have paid them some money, at least over forty thousand, because this is the sum we found in the safe at the pawnshop. Then they must have demanded more and he decided to put a stop to it. That’s when Evergreen arranged to have Cummings released and contracted the murders. We believe he killed Cummings himself, meeting him in that parking lot, probably for a payoff. Exactly why he killed him we aren’t certain, but it was more than likely to cover his tracks. Possibly Cummings was trying to raise the stakes and he feared exposure.
“Evergreen had to get the photos back. Even though his back was turned to the camera, he has to fear we will identify one of the victims and implicate him in that manner, or he is aware that his own home is reflected in those pictures. So after he eliminated Cummings, he shopped for another offender to spring, met him outside the jail, and hired him to break into Judge Sanderstone’s residence again, this time the condo she was hiding in. When he still didn’t recover the photos, he had Judge Sanderstone attacked in the underground garage, thinking the photos were in her car or briefcase. If the janitorial service had not arrived when it did, it is my belief that Judge Sanderstone would be dead right now.”
Rickerson turned to speak directly to Judge Rodriguez. His signature on a warrant would be the green light they needed. “We are seeking an arrest warrant for Judge Leo Evergreen for a violation of section 187, first-degree murder in the death of Packard Cummings, for contracting a murder for hire in the deaths of Ivory and Sam Perkins, for conspiring to commit assault with a deadly weapon in the beating of Judge Sanderstone. This could even fall under section 217.1 of the penal code, in that he was attempting to murder or impede Judge Sanderstone in proceeding with her duties, and for conspiring to commit two residential 459’s or burglaries of Judge Sanderstone’s residences.” He stopped and took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Lara’s.
Rickerson sat down next to her. Gail Stewart chatted a few minutes and left. Judge Rodriguez, the justice from San Francisco, the D.A., and the FBI agent all stood in the corner of the squad room and conferred among themselves in hushed voices. They walked up and studied the pictures pinned on the cork board. They read again the facts of the case outlined in chalk on the blackboard. The justice from San Francisco glanced at Lara and then back to the other men. He was shaking his head. Then he shook Rodriguez’s hand and left the room, walking fast like he had to catch a plane, his head down. A few minutes later, the FBI agent broke from the group and left. Now there was only Lawrence Meyer and Rodriguez in the huddle. Finally they arrived at a decision.
By five o’clock that evening, Rickerson was told, he would have the warrants in his hands.
Rickerson turned to Lara and smiled. They were on their way. For Presiding Judge Leo Evergreen, the most powerful justice in Orange County, it was to be the beginning of the end.
Chapter 25
Josh went to Ricky Simmons’s house after school. No one was there but the two of them. Ricky’s mother was out.
They grabbed several cans of sodas and some potato chips and headed to Ricky’s room. Josh had always envied his friend. He had it all. A nice home, always neat and clean. He had a mother and father that loved him, were even active in school activities. Ricky also had a huge collie named Viceroy that Josh adored. He dropped to his knees in the hall and hugged him, letting him lick his face with a red sticky tongue.
“I can’t believe you let him do that,” Ricky said. “He licks his balls, you know. He even licks his asshole.”
Ricky had rock posters plastered all over the walls, two twin beds with brown chenille bedspreads, a desk covered with books and papers, and of course, the computer. He had told his mother he needed it desperately for his school work. All he’d ever used it for was games. When he wasn’t vegetating in front of a video game, Ricky lifted weights like Josh. He wanted to build up his body, but not to beat someone up. He wanted to do it to attract girls. Ricky was almost fifteen. He was in heat. There was only one problem with that, Josh thought, glancing at his friend. Ricky was a nerd. He was short and skinny, wore thick glasses, and in the past year his face had erupted in angry pimples. There wasn’t a girl in school who would even look at Ricky Simmons, much less let him touch her. Even Josh knew that and the boy was his best friend.
The curtains were drawn in the room. Ricky liked it that way. Dark. When he wasn’t playing video games, he was reading Stephen King books. In one corner he had a big tank filled with exotic fish, and the pump made a constant gurgling sound. Every day his mother made his lunch and cleaned his room. She even ironed Ricky’s clothes. Anything he wanted he got. But Ricky took all this for granted, Josh thought, looking around him. He’d certainly never take it for granted. But then, he’d never had the chance.
“You really going to do this? Call that man and everything?” Ricky said, tossing a handful of chips in his mouth and crunching them. “I want to listen when he talks dirty. He talks about tits and everything? Wow. What else did he say to you? Tell me, man.”
Josh gave him a nasty look. “This is not a game, dick head. This is serious stuff.”
“Fuck you,” Ricky said, tossing a few chips at Josh. “Since when did you turn into some kind of Sherlock Holmes?”
“Since someone murdered my mother.” Josh had the phone
in his hands. There was a black look in his eyes. Since his conversation yesterday with Emmet, all Josh had thought about was the game man and how they could catch him.
“I’m sorry,” Ricky said quietly, shoving his glasses back on his nose. “Sometimes I forget. I mean, you never used to talk about them, so I just forget.”
“Well, either shut up or get out. Go in the bathroom and jerk off or something.”
He shut up.
With Ricky sitting on the edge of one twin bed and Josh stretched out on the other, Josh called the toll-free number and the game man answered.
“Hey,” Josh said, sitting up straight and avoiding Ricky’s eyes, “this is Ricky. You know, from yesterday. Say, I’ve been thinking and I’d really like those free games. My mom’s gone today, so I could come and get them if you tell me where you live.”
“Did you have a wet dream last night, Ricky?” the man said slowly. “Did your little pecker stand up?”
Josh turned bright red and Ricky leaned farther over his knees. “Let me hear,” he whispered. “Shit, you used my name.” Josh glared at him and he was silent again.
“Y-yeah,” Josh stammered. “You gonna let me see that movie you were talking about? The one with the blonde?”
The man’s voice became almost businesslike, the suggestive tone of before vanishing. “Do you have transportation?” he asked.
“I have a bike,” Josh answered, glancing at Ricky. He didn’t, but Ricky did.
“I see,” the man said slowly. “If you come over, this has to be our little secret. When do you have to be home?”
“Anytime I want, man.” Josh held his breath, hoping the man would agree to see him. “I can come to your house.”
“No, that would be too far. You live in San Clemente, don’t you? Why don’t you come to the corner of Avenue Palizada in San Clemente? Isn’t there a convenience store there?”
Interest of Justice Page 37
