***
“All right, all right,” Brunelle was saying earnestly, small pink ice cream spoon pointed at Lizzy for emphasis. “So Odette is really a princess, but during the day she has to be a swan because of an evil spell?”
“Exactly,” Lizzy answered. “Her and all her princess handmaiden people.”
“And how many of those are there?” Brunelle asked, digging for more toffee caramel crunch.
Lizzy laughed. “Depends how many girls are in the studio. But usually a whole bunch so the dancing looks cool.”
Brunelle nodded as he swallowed. “Okay, and the bad guy, what’s his name again?”
“Rothbart,” Lizzy answered. “He’s an evil sorcerer who cast the spell on all of them.”
“But why?”
Lizzy shrugged. “I don’t know. Power? Control? Maybe just ‘cause he’s a dick?”
“Lizzy!” Kat yelled, but there was a smile not quite hidden in the corner of her mouth.
Lizzy just rolled her eyes at her mother. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why he gets so mad when it looks like Sigfried is gonna break the spell.”
Brunelle frowned. He was interested in the story, but had no idea how the ballet had told it. “How does he break the spell?”
“Well, he doesn’t,” Lizzy answered. “The spell will be broken if he pledges his undying love to Odette, but he screws it up.”
“I thought he did that at the party scene.” Brunelle recalled the dancer on one knee pantomiming giving his heart to the beautiful princess. “When Odette was dressed all in black.”
Lizzy and Kat both just stared at him for a second.
Lizzy turned to her mother. “Where did you dig him up, mom?”
Kat narrowed her eyes at Brunelle. “I thought you said you saw ‘Black Swan’?”
Brunelle grinned. “I wasn’t really paying attention to the plot.”
Kat rolled her eyes and Lizzy giggled at her mom.
“That wasn’t Odette, Sherlock,” Kat growled. “You might have caught that if you hadn’t been looking at—”
“Of course it was Odette,” Brunelle drew on his courtroom experience to block the next words. “It was the same dancer.”
“Right,” Lizzy agreed, returning momentarily to her ice cream. “But she was playing a different part. Odile, an evil twin of Odette, created by Rothbart to trick Sigfried.”
Brunelle almost dropped his spoon. “Oh. Oh, my God.”
Kat laughed at her date. “Pretty evil, huh?”
“No,” Brunelle replied. “Brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” scoffed Lizzy. “He’s the bad guy.”
“Yeah,” Brunelle smiled. “But what if the good guy did it?”
He raised an eyebrow at Kat and motioned toward Lizzy. “Whattaya think? Her voice is a dead ringer for Holly.”
“Holly?” Kat’s eyes flew wide. “The girl from the reports? Oh, no, David Brunelle. No, no, no, no!”
Brunelle tried to turn on the charm. “So you’ll consider it?”
Kat’s wide eyes narrowed into angry slits. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest something like that!”
Lizzy reached out and placed a hand on her mother’s arm. “What is it, mom? Is there something I can do to help?”
Kat spun to face her daughter. “You are not, repeat not, going into the King County Jail pretending to be the girlfriend of some homicidal maniac in the hopes that he says something incriminating to you.”
Lizzy’s face squished into a frown, but she didn’t try to argue any more. So Brunelle did.
“Odile did it,” he tried.
Kat’s scowl melted, despite her obvious effort to stay angry. “You idiot. Odile was the evil twin, created by the bad guy, to defeat the heroes.”
Brunelle smiled back. “Yeah, but otherwise it’s a great analogy.”
Kat crossed her arms. “Mr. Brunelle,” she said evenly, “you promise me right now you will not send my daughter into jail wearing a wire to get a confession from that psychopath.”
Brunelle took a deep breath, then sighed. He raised his right hand. “I promise.”
Kat nodded. “Good.”
Brunelle looked at Lizzy. She shrugged at him. But instead of shrugging back, Brunelle smiled, and winked.
Chapter 17
It was a bad idea, he knew. But it was better than the no ideas he had otherwise. Karpati was going to walk. They had no evidence against him other than Holly’s testimony. But Holly wasn’t going to talk, which meant Karpati would be on the street in a matter of weeks. There weren’t even jail calls between them. None they could find anyway. She was just that damn scared of him. Without Chen and McCall browbeating her—something Judge Quinn was highly unlikely to allow—Holly wasn’t going to say anything.
Brunelle couldn’t even hope for a vengeful jury ready to convict with insufficient evidence. The judge would never let it get that far. Motion to dismiss granted, a murderer on the street, a girl in prison for something someone else did, and a smarmy defense attorney slapping him on the back on his way to his next big fee.
Which is why when his phone rang that Monday afternoon, Brunelle listened, considered his options, and then—against his better judgment—said, “Yes.”
Chapter 18
“Thanks again for offering to do this, Lizzy,” Brunelle said the next afternoon as they stood in the jail lobby, waiting to be buzzed inside.
“I’m kinda surprised you said yes,” Lizzy replied. “You promised mom you wouldn’t do it.”
“I promised her you wouldn’t wear a wire,” Brunelle replied. “Which is true. We’re not gonna have you walk up to him and pretend you’re Holly. He’s not blind. We’re gonna put you in the holding cell next to him and tell him Holly’s in there. So, a wire wouldn’t be any good for that anyway. Too far away.”
Lizzy laughed. “Mom’s gonna kill you.”
Brunelle nodded. “You still sure you want to do this?”
“That’s why I called you,” Lizzy answered. “Mom told me what they did to that girl. If I can help, I want to help.”
Brunelle was impressed by the girl’s sense of duty and altruism.
“Besides,” she went on, “I wanna be a detective when I grow up, so being a confidential informant at fourteen will look great on my resume.”
Or not.
Brunelle nodded. Kids these days.
“So,” Lizzy beamed, “what’s the plan, boss?”
***
“I assure you, officer,” Brunelle could hear Karpati telling the jail guard over the speakers, “I do not have court today.”
“You’re on the docket, Karpati,” the corrections officer grumbled back. “That’s all I need to know. Now get into holding cell number three and be quiet.”
“Would you mind telling me the nature of the hearing?”
It really pissed Brunelle off that Karpati could speak so politely. He was gonna be a good witness. Damn it.
“Says here,” the guard flipped through his sheaf of papers, “‘Motion to Join Codefendants for Trial.’”
Brunelle was watching the scene unfold via the closed circuit television cameras that hung from the secure holding cell area behind the courtrooms. It was poor quality video, filmed at a strange downward angle, but he was pretty sure he saw Karpati frown.
“I don’t have a codefendant,” Karpati protested even as they reached holding cell number three.
The guard looked down at his papers again. ““Holly Sandholm,’” he read. “Says she’s on for arraignment in adult court too. They musta transferred her case.”
Karpati frowned again as he looked down in thought.
The guard laughed. “Congrats, you’ve got a trial buddy. Now get in there.”
He half-pushed Karpati into the small, windowless room, and secured the door. Then he turned down the hall and yelled, “Sandholm! Cell four!”
***
Lizzy walked confidently down the cement hallway to cell number four. Brunelle was impressed. Chen n
ot so much.
“You sure this is a good idea?” he asked as they both hunched over the monitor. “She looks awful young.”
“She is awful young,” Brunelle answered. “But damn, she sounds just like Holly. If she sticks to ‘Uh-huh’s and ‘Mm-hmm’s, Karpati should buy it.”
Chen nodded. “Welles is gonna be pissed.”
Brunelle laughed a bit. “Good.”
***
The cell door slammed behind Lizzy and now all they could do was listen, and hope Karpati said something stupid.
The whole gambit was based on some dubious psychological profile Brunelle had attributed to Karpati. Karpati was a control freak—among other things. That’s why he’d hired Welles, the best of the best, and a control freak himself. As long as he was getting three hots and a cot and Welles was at his side for every court date, then he was in control. Like the psychopath in the movie, straight-jacketed and a hockey-mask over his mouth to protect the young cop. He couldn’t move, but he was still in control. Polite and courteous and prepared to eat your throat out if the opportunity presented itself.
But control is all about knowing what’s coming next. Take the psychopath out of his element, sever him from his expected lines of information (Why hadn’t Welles told him about this hearing?), and the discomfort level rises. Control freak wants control back, and after all, he’s still a freak.
“Arpad?” Lizzy whispered. Smart. A whisper would be harder to recognize as not Holly.
Karpati didn’t reply.
“Arpad?” she whispered again, but louder so it was more of a raspy yell.
“Shut the fuck up,” Karpati replied.
Lizzy waited a few seconds. “Sorry, I thought you’d know what’s going on.”
Nice. Appeal to that control freak vanity. Girl had a future as a detective.
Karpati only hesitated for moment before replying, “I mean shut the fuck up about the case. Don’t say shit. They’re trying to scare you into testifying against me.”
“I am scared, Arpad.” The whisper was working. She kept it up. And short sentences. Excellent.
“Don’t be. You’ll be fine. Just don’t snitch me out.”
If Brunelle had been impressed with Lizzy so far, he was amazed by the next level. She turned on the water works. Fuck detective, the girl had a future in Hollywood.
“My lawyer says I’ll get life!”
“Shut up, damn it. Shut up!”
Control freak doesn’t like crying. Brunelle filed that away.
“Just don’t say shit and we’ll both be okay.”
“My lawyer says,” Lizzy half-whispered, half-sobbed, “if I don’t say anything, you’ll be fine. But I’m going to prison for the rest of my li-li-life!”
Brunelle leaned toward the monitor. If this was gonna work, here was where it would work. Moment of truth. Chen leaned forward a bit too.
“Listen to me, Holly. You don’t say shit. I tell you what to do and you do it. Period. That’s how it’s always been. You agreed to that. And nothing changes just because I’m in here. I say knock on the door, you knock on the door. And I say shut up, you shut up. Got it?”
Lizzy paused, being sure to produce a few audible sniffles.
“Got it,” she whined. Then, improv-style, “I love you.”
Brunelle saw Karpati’s mouth curve into a smug grim. “Damn right you do. Now shut the fuck up.”
Brunelle leaned back in his chair and gave Chen the thumbs-up to get Lizzy out of there. After Chen hung up with the corrections officers, he turned back to Brunelle. “So, what do you think?”
“It wasn’t a confession,” Brunelle smiled. “But it’ll do. If nothing else, I’ve got an iron clad case of witness tampering.”
Chen raised a finger. “Ah, but Lizzy’s not a witness.”
Brunelle’s smile faded just a bit as he considered his inevitable conversation with the assistant medical examiner. “She is now.”
Chapter 19
“You did what?! Are you fucking crazy?”
Brunelle had decided to tell his co-counsel first, figuring she’d take the news better. Apparently not.
“You sent a state agent to entrap an in-custody defendant who is represented by counsel and had specifically invoked his right to an attorney?”
Yamata shook her head, sending silky black bangs across her eyes. “My briefs may be exquisite, but even those can’t cover your ass on this one.”
Brunelle smiled. It was genuine, but he had to prop it up a bit in the corners. “The defendant—who is a murderous psychopath, by the way. Don’t think that won’t go into the judge’s thinking. No one wants to run for reelection as the judge who let the girl-killer back on the street—the defendant made spontaneous statements to a confidential informant. They were not in response to questioning and therefore no Miranda warnings were required.”
“Confidential informant?” Yamata laughed. “That’s what you’re going to go with? She was a C.I.? Okay, well, he was still represented by counsel.”
“That’s an ethical issue,” Brunelle countered, “not an evidentiary one. The bar association may care, but it doesn’t suppress the evidence.”
“Well, I’m going to care too,” Yamata answered, “when you get taken off the case because the bar pulls your license.”
“I care too, Dave.” It was Duncan. He was standing in the door, arm against the door jam, looking casual, except for the tired frown on his face. “We need to talk.”
Yamata jumped to her feet. “I’ll be going now,” she chimed. She made no effort to conceal her ‘I didn’t know he was going to do this’ gesture from Brunelle as she slipped past Duncan. Duncan just nodded. Then he sat down across Brunelle’s desk.
“She’s right, you know,” he started. “I can’t let you try this case if you get in trouble with the bar.”
Brunelle nodded. “I know. I think I threaded the needle, though. She didn’t ask any questions. Only statements. Everything he said was voluntary, so it didn’t need Miranda and I wasn’t really contacting him for the purposes of the professional conduct rules.”
Duncan frowned. “Do you really believe all that?”
Brunelle shrugged. He almost did. “I’ll have to. Karpati was gonna walk. Now I’ve got an inculpatory statement. And at a minimum, I’ve got him on a witness tampering charge.”
“Attempted witness tampering,” Duncan laughed. “It wasn’t really the girl.” Then Duncan frowned. “Who was it really? And how did you get her parents to agree?”
Brunelle’s smile was now fully artificial. “Yeah, about that…”
Chapter 20
What bothered Brunelle the most was what wasn’t happening. His phone wasn’t ringing. He’d left messages for Kat at her work and cell numbers, but no call back yet. He hadn’t been explicit in his voicemails, and he didn’t know whether Lizzy had even told her, but the lack of a return call was eating away a bit at his stomach.
The other person who wasn’t calling was Welles. There was no doubt that Karpati had told him what happened. It would take a minimal amount of checking to discover that no such hearing had ever been set, and that Holly Sandholm had never left the juvenile detention facility across town.
Brunelle had expected Welles to excoriate him the moment he found out. The fact that he hadn’t meant the defense lawyer was using his time and talents on drafting up some impressive paperwork. A motion to dismiss, no doubt. Maybe a bar complaint. Probably both.
The day ended with neither person calling him. Brunelle checked the message light one more time on his desk phone, then stepped from his office.
He needed a drink. And a pretty face.
***
Darkness was about the same as last time, maybe a little slower. It was Tuesday after all, not Friday. Instead of three businessmen sharing a table, it was two. And instead of Faust, it was some young guy with a burgundy faux-hawk.
“What can I get you, sir?” At least he was polite.
“A beer,” Brunelle
replied, then clarified. “Whatever’s on tap, I don’t care.”
Fauxhawk nodded and was back in a moment with the beer.
“Is, um, Faust working tonight?” Brunelle tried to sound casual. He was pretty sure he’d failed.
Fauxhawk looked at him for a moment, then winced. “Dude, really? You could be her dad.”
Brunelle offered a pained nod. “Yeah, that’s what I hear. Just wondering. Was hoping to finish a conversation we had last week.”
The bartender took a moment to size up Brunelle. “You a cop?”
Brunelle laughed a little. “No.” He decided not to elaborate. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important.”
He took a drink of his beer and thought about calling Kat again. Maybe she’d been in autopsies all day.
“Dude?” Brunelle looked up at Fauxhawk. “She’ll be in at eight.”
Brunelle smiled. “Thanks.”
And he knew how he’d be spending his evening.
***
By the time eight o’clock rolled around, Brunelle was sure of two things. First, he’d had too much to drink. Second, he shouldn’t have had Lizzy be a C.I. after all.
But when Faust strutted in the front door, he forgot both of those things.
She was even more attractive than he’d remembered. He knew it was the beers, but he pretty much didn’t care. She was hot. The End. And he was only old enough to be her big brother, not her father.
But that was kinda gross too, so he shook his head and waited for her to step behind the bar.
“Evening, miss,” he said when she got close. He thought it sounded classy. He hoped it did anyway.
A smile curved across her lips, which only reminded Brunelle of the rest of her ample curves. She put one hand on her hip, and raked the other through her thick black hair. “Well, hello, Mr. Prosecutor.”
Brunelle smiled. He wasn’t drunk. Just feeling good. Still he needed to watch himself.
“Come back to interrogate me some more?” Faust asked with a defiant eyebrow.
Brunelle shook his head. “No, I just needed a beer. Tough day at the office.”
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