Corpus Delicti (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Book 6)

by Stephen Penner

  Jillian didn’t like the question, but had to answer, “No. I ain’t got no kids.”

  Okay, thought Brunelle. That was about all he could do to undermine her. It was time to challenge her directly.

  “Isn’t it true, Ms. Hammond, that you spoke with me and Detective Larry Chen of the Seattle Police Department several weeks ago about the disappearance and murder of Amy Corrigan?”

  Brunelle had hoped the question would rattle Jillian, but she obviously had been expecting it. The jury, on the other hand, audibly stirred. Good, thought Brunelle, listen up, folks.

  “I don’t recall ever talking to any detective,” Jillian answered. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before.”

  Brunelle raised an eyebrow. “The night we talked about Amy?”

  But Jillian shook her head. “No. The night Jillian died. I’m pretty sure I saw your car in the parking lot just before the cops showed up.”

  That sent more than a stirring through the courtroom. There were several gasps, an ‘a-ha’, and at least one giggle. Not exactly the reaction he liked to hear when he was doing a cross. He felt his face flush at the accusation—mostly because it was true.

  He knew the best course of action was to ignore it, since he couldn’t deny it.

  “You spoke with me and Detective Chen at Green Lake Park and we discussed the murder of Amy Corrigan, isn’t that true?”

  But Jillian shook her head. “No, I never talked to you or no detective about Amy.”

  “And you told us Amy just disappeared and never said anything about going to California or anywhere else, isn’t that true?”

  “I never talked to you,” Jillian insisted.

  “And isn’t it true, Ms. Hammond, that you told us that the defendant, Kenneth Brown, told you—“

  “Objection!” Edwards practically jumped over her counsel table. “Objection. The witness has repeatedly said she never spoke with Mr. Brunelle or any detective. Mr. Brunelle should not be allowed to start listing off things that my client allegedly said just to have the witness say she never said that. I can’t unring that bell.”

  Judge Grissom’s face wore an expression of concern. She looked at Brunelle. “Any response, Mr. Brunelle? Why should you be allowed to tell the jury what you claim Mr. Brown said if the witness is just going to deny it? Doesn’t that make you into the witness?”

  Brunelle was pissed. He was pissed at Jillian Hammond for lying. He was pissed at Edwards for calling her as a witness. And he was pissed at Judge Grissom for excluding all the evidence about pimping and prostitution—the only thing that made the whole thing make any sense.

  But he quelled the anger long enough to formulate a coherent and well-reasoned response. “I intend to recall Detective Chen to testify about this conversation. Under evidence rule six-thirteen, I can introduce evidence of prior inconsistent statements of a witness through a third party, but only after confronting the witness with the statements and giving them the opportunity to admit or deny them. If I don’t challenge Ms. Hammond on these statements now, Ms. Edwards will object to Detective Chen testifying about them because I didn’t follow the procedure required by the evidence rule.”

  The judge gave Brunelle an approving nod. She turned back to Edwards. “Counsel? I believe Mr. Brunelle is correct about the rule. And I expect you would object if he didn’t follow proper procedure.”

  Edwards just stood there for a moment, weighing her options. “I will stipulate that Mr. Brunelle has confronted Ms. Hammond with the entire content of the conversation. If he wants to call Detective Chen to discuss it, I will not make an objection under evidence rule six-thirteen.”

  Brunelle saw that response for what it was: an effort to stop him right then, and to buy time to think of a different objection when Chen retook the witness stand.

  “Your Honor,” he began to complain, but the judge cut him off.

  “I think that’s a good solution,” she ruled. “Mr. Brunelle, no more questions about exactly what the witness may or may not have told you and Detective Chen. Move on, if you have any more questions.”

  He did. And he was still pissed.

  He looked Jillian directly in the eye. “Where were you last week?” he demanded.

  She met his gaze. “Up, down, and all around.”

  Brunelle wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. His expression showed it. She decided to rub his face in it a little bit.

  “You should stick to being a lawyer,” she teased. “You’ll never make it as a spy.”

  Brunelle took a step back, not sure what to make of the comment, but suddenly very sure he was done giving her a chance to talk. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  He walked back to his seat, even as Edwards quickly rose to confirm, “No redirect examination, Your Honor.”

  Jillian Hammond stepped down from the witness stand and past Brunelle’s table. He didn’t look up to see if she looked at him as she passed. His head was still swimming with what she’d said and how to counter it—if he even could.

  He knew one thing: Jillian had made it possible for Edwards not to have to call her client to the stand. Defendants rarely helped themselves when they testified. Brunelle knew that; so did Edwards. Which is why as soon as Jillian exited the courtroom, Edwards stood up again and announced, “The defense rests.”

  That was it. One witness. Brunelle’s witness. But Edwards’ testimony. The final nail in the coffin of his case.

  He barely noticed the judge ask him, “Any rebuttal witnesses, Mr. Brunelle?”

  Everyone in the courtroom knew the answer to that. He’d just announced he was going to recall Chen. “Uh, yes, Your Honor. But I’m not ready to do that today. I, well, honestly, I didn’t expect to have to put on a rebuttal case.” Not a great thing to admit in front of the jury, but he was too drained not to be honest. “Could we adjourn until tomorrow morning?”

  But Judge Grissom wasn’t keen on wasting another day of trial on just one witness. Her expression showed her doubts about Brunelle’s suggestion, so he jumped in with a bit of levity. “That will also give Ms. Edwards time to think of another way to exclude the detective’s testimony.”

  A juror laughed, Edwards couldn’t help but smile slightly and the judge gave in. “All right, Mr. Brunelle, we will adjourn until tom—“

  “Wait!” Brunelle interrupted. He suddenly realized what had happened. And what he might be able to do about it. “Uh, could we reconvene at one o’clock again? I’ll contact Detective Chen, and maybe we can do this this afternoon after all. Or maybe not. But, um, let’s reconvene at one. All of us. Really. One o’clock.”

  Grissom’s expression changed again from grudging acquiescence to budding curiosity. “Okay, Mr. Brunelle. One o’clock. You’ll be ready to proceed?”

  But Brunelle rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure about that. But I’ll be able to tell the court whether I’m able to proceed. And if not, I can guarantee I’ll be ready to wrap this case up once and for all tomorrow morning.”

  He looked over at Kenny Brown as he finished his sentence and for the first time, the two men met eyes. Brown’s gaze was fierce, but there was an aspect of fear in it. Like he didn’t know what Brunelle was going to do, and was at least a little bit worried by it.

  Good, Brunelle thought. He was going to need that.

  Chapter 39

  Brunelle called Chen. They discussed the plan. Chen arrived at the courtroom at five minutes before one. Edwards was already there. So was Brown. Chen fetched Brunelle from his counsel table, and they went into the same hallway they’d been in when Brunelle told Chen he needed Jillian Hammond to testify. Right outside the courtroom door.

  “The case has gone to complete shit,” Brunelle said. “Jillian told the jury Amy was in California and the judge wouldn’t let me tell the jury what she really said. Once the jury gets the case tomorrow, they’re going to acquit him. Then he can tell everyone in the world that he killed her and we can’t recharge him because of double jeo
pardy.”

  “We may have gotten a break,” Chen answered. “I think we may be able to find out where he dumped the body. When I couldn’t find Jillian, I started asking questions. People are afraid of him, but they’re afraid of the cops, too.”

  “If you find the body, we’ll convict him for sure,” Brunelle said. “It’ll prove Amy isn’t in California and I bet he left DNA or some other type of trace evidence on her body, even if it’s decomposed.”

  “I know,” Chen agreed. “But I don’t know where it is quite yet. I still need to ask some questions. He must have had help burying the body. I’ve got a lead and I think they’ll snitch, but I won’t know until tonight.”

  “You have to find that body before tomorrow morning,” Brunelle insisted. “If he can make it just one more day, it’ll be too late.”

  “Okay,” Chen answered. “But like I said, it’s gonna take me all night to finish my investigation. And I can’t get the body until the forensics team comes in tomorrow morning. The earliest I could start digging is seven a.m.”

  “That’ll have to do,” Brunelle said. “If you start digging at seven, you’ll find it by nine easy. Call me as soon as you have it, and I’ll buy you time to get from the grave to court. I can’t wait to see the look on Edwards’ face when you tell the jury you found Amy’s body.”

  “I can’t wait to see the look on Brown’s face,” Chen replied, “when the jury says ‘guilty of murder in the first degree.’”

  They finished their conversation and went their separate ways. Chen headed for the exit and Brunelle went back inside the courtroom. The bailiff was standing up and reaching for his gavel. Edwards was still seated at counsel table, reading from her binder. And Brown was just making his way back to the defense table as Judge Grissom emerged from her chambers and took the bench.

  “Are you ready to proceed, Mr. Brunelle?” she asked.

  “No, Your Honor,” he was quick to reply. “My apologies, but I need to wait until tomorrow morning. If all goes as planned, I’ll be ready to wrap this up by nine or nine-thirty.”

  Grissom frowned, but she hardly seemed surprised. “Very well, Mr. Brunelle. We will be adjourned until tomorrow morning at nine. But be prepared to call Detective Chen or move directly to closing arguments. Understood?”

  “Understood,” Brunelle replied. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  Then court was adjourned and Brunelle could do nothing more but wait.

  Chapter 40

  Brunelle did need the body to save his case. That was true. Pretty much everything else he and Chen said in that hallway was complete bullshit. But someone had overhead their earlier conversation about Jillian testifying. It was a good bet that person would eavesdrop again if Chen was seen taking Brunelle out to the same hallway on the other side of the less than perfectly sealed courtroom doors. And it was an even better bet that that person was Kenny Brown.

  Chen had no leads. No one was about to snitch out Brown. Brown likely had help disposing the body, but they had no idea who helped him. There was only one person they could say for sure knew where Amy’s body was: Kenny Brown. So rather than spending the night interviewing snitches and assembling ‘the forensics team’ to dig up Amy’s body, Chen set up surveillance on Brown and hoped he’d panic.

  Brunelle was counting on the fact that the case had gone so well for Brown. The bastard could practically taste the acquittal. Murder One and he walks. He’d be untouchable on the street. A legend. The man who murders his girls and gets away with it. It was too tempting. He couldn’t risk losing it. So maybe it wasn’t panic as much as greed. And who could possibly be greedier than a man who forces women to have sex with strangers for money?

  But Chen couldn’t do the surveillance. Brown would recognize him. In fact, Chen had to do the opposite of surveillance; he had to pretend to be shaking down prostitutes and pimps for info. He had to pretend to do exactly what he told Brunelle in the hallway. Brown would check to make sure he was really doing it—to confirm it was true, to see how close Chen was getting, and to make sure the cops were occupied while he went to move the real body. So they needed someone else.

  “Montero?” Chen called over his radio. He and Brunelle were still at the station. “Are the units in position?”

  “Roger that, Larry,” came her reply. “All units are ready. Ohlstrom and Watkins are stationed outside his motel room. Donnelly is north and Petersen is south. When he makes his move, we’ll be on him. This’ll be fun.”

  Chen smiled. “Nothing wrong with fun, but make sure you’re not spotted. He knows your face, too.”

  “No worries, Larry,” Montero replied. “I’m remote. I won’t move in until the shovel hits the dirt.”

  Chen nodded. “Good.” Then he looked to Brunelle. “I’m gonna head up to the Aurora Motel and start bothering hookers. I know that’s more your thing, Dave, but I think maybe this time you should hang back and let the cops do the work.”

  Brunelle laughed. “Okay. Fine. I can probably go one night without talking to a hooker or getting beat up by a pimp. Keep me in the loop, though, okay? I want to know the minute we nail this fucker.”

  Chen smiled. “Sure thing, partner,” he joked. “One of these days we’ll have to get you a badge.”

  Brunelle shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got a bar card.”

  Chen raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah. I bet my badge is thicker than your bar card.”

  Brunelle shook his head at the joke. “Save that shit for the ladies, detective.”

  Chen grinned. “Okay.” He stood up. “Go grab yourself a cup of coffee or something. I’ll call you when he’s in custody. It could be a while.”

  Brunelle stood up to leave too, agreeing to the suggestion but wondering if there wasn’t some way he could be a little closer to the action.

  *

  In the event, a Denny’s in Seattle’s Ballard neighborhood, a few miles west of the Aurora Motel, was Brunelle’s compromise. He wasn’t a cop, so he wasn’t going to try to participate in a stake out. But he wanted to be close so when they caught him, he could go out to the scene and see Brown handcuffed as they finished unearthing Amy Corrigan’s remains.

  Seattle may be full of Starbuckses, but they close early and the coffee is stronger at Denny’s anyway. He brought some work to do, but couldn’t really focus, so spent most of the first hour playing games on his phone.

  After another hour, it was nearly midnight, his battery was almost dead, and there was still no word from Chen or Montero. He was starting to get worried. What if this didn’t work? What if Brown hadn’t overheard their conversation in the hallway? What if Jillian just bolted on her own and what if Brown wasn’t listening in on their second conversation either? What if Brown was at home getting a good night’s rest while Brunelle and Chen were exhausting themselves before tomorrow’s testimony?

  He shook his head. Too much strong coffee. He was jittery, but still tired. Fatigued. It had been a long couple weeks. Long couple months. He didn’t need any more coffee. He needed a walk. Some fresh air and streetlights to clear his head and calm his nerves.

  Ballard was a mix of Seattle’s oldfashioned maritime industry, with ocean-going fishing vessels cheek-to-jowl all along the waterfront, and the city’s newly found tech culture, with gentrified retail/condo complexes being constructed atop the ruins of the neighborhood’s old grain stores and two-bedroom craftsmen homes. The Denny’s on Market Street was a hold-out of the older era, likely to soon be replaced by a development of boutiques and hipster apartments. On three sides, it held back the onslaught of gentrification. Brunelle opted to walk in the direction of the fourth side: south, toward the fishing boats and warehouses.

  It was another brisk night, made all the more so by the damp air near the waterfront. Brunelle put his hands in his pockets and turned down some unnamed alley toward the water. The sight of Salmon Bay at night might ease his nerves while he waited for Chen’s call.

  Although he was starting to think that call
would never come. Or at least when it finally did come, it would be to report that their gambit had failed. So when his ringer went off as he approached Shilshole Avenue, he felt more trepidation than excitement.

  He pulled the phone out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear. “Brunelle,” he answered.

  “Dave! What the hell are you doing?” It was Chen’s voice, but not anything Brunelle had expected to hear.

  “What?” he replied. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re walking right into the stake-out,” Chen answered. “Montero just called me. They tracked Brown to Ballard, but you’re about to blow the whole thing. Get the hell out of there!”

  “Fuck.” Brunelle looked around. He didn’t see anyone, but that was kind of the point, he supposed. It was a dark, desolate area. No retail or eating establishments. Just docks and warehouses and barely paved alleyways. Perfect for a mind-clearing walk. And maybe also for disposing of a body. “Uh, Okay. Shit. I’ll get out of here. Sorry. I just—“

  “Just shut up and get the hell out of there,” Chen ordered. “Fuck. We may have to abort the whole thing if he saw you.”

  Brunelle shook his head. “I don’t think anyone saw me.”

  “Montero did, you idiot,” Chen growled. “Get the fuck out of there.”

  “Shit.” Brunelle said. “Shit, shit. Okay. Fuck. Damn it.”

  He hung up and spun his head around. Go back the way he came? Well, that’s where they spotted him, so that was probably a bad idea. He’d just walk through the stake-out again. Another frantic glance around the area. There was a warehouse parking lot he could cut through if it wasn’t fenced on the other side. That would get him back to Ballard Way and he could head back north on a main road.

  “Fuck,” he whispered as he darted into the parking lot. It was bad enough he’d messed up the entire case. Now he was about to mess up his one chance to rescue it. He lowered his head and hurried into the dark of the unlit parking lot. He really hoped there was no fence on the other side of the building. If there was, he might just sit down against it and wait for everything to end. Like his career.