Capitol offence bk-17

by William Bernhardt

  Ben watched as the image cut to a video of someone Ben didn't recognize. Her name appeared at the bottom of the screen.

  "I just happened to be at Two Warren Place that day when I was approached by a twenty-four-year-old man who said that he worked in Kincaid's office…"

  "Huh?" Ben screeched. "Who?"

  Christina scowled. "No one that age works for us. I mean, I may still look twenty-four, but I'm not." She pondered. "Maybe that kid who delivers sandwiches saw him."

  "… and said that he wanted to consult with a leading defense attorney about how he might get away with murder. Apparently he and Kincaid talked for some time. That's probably when the topic of temporary insanity was raised first."

  "That's not true!" Ben yelled at the glass box. "I mean, it is, but-but not the way they're making it sound!"

  The television image reverted to the female reporter. "There you have it, John. An alleged eyewitness to the premeditated murder that robbed Tulsa of a fine officer and a family of its father."

  "Eyewitness? It was hearsay!" Ben said, outraged. "Speculation. All she did was repeat what someone else supposedly told her. Can you get away with saying anything on the news if you get someone else to say it for you?"

  "This evidence-and I use the term lightly-wouldn't be admissible in the most informal court hearing," Christina noted. "But apparently hearsay is good enough for the evening news."

  The reporter continued. "We consulted the district attorney for his reaction to this startling development in the case that has already shocked and horrified Tulsans."

  This time the on-screen image shifted to David Guillerman, apparently sitting at his desk. He spoke hesitantly, as if he hated to comment at all, which would probably be useful when he had to explain to the judge why he'd violated the gag order.

  "Of course I'm shocked and appalled by the new information Channel Seven has brought to light in this case. I had no idea."

  "Is it my imagination, or is his nose getting longer?" Ben asked.

  "Shhh!"

  Guillerman continued. "I prefer to try cases in the courtroom, not the media, but this is unacceptable behavior, made all the worse because the attorney is also our elected-well, our appointed representative in the U.S. Senate. The peddling of influence has already turned many people off government and caused enormous cynicism in this country. To have someone actually collaborating with criminals, just to make legal fees, is truly shocking. I hope the state bar association is paying attention. I understand that Kincaid's colleague in the Senate, Senator Hardwick, is preparing a formal motion to censure him as soon as Congress reconvenes."

  "Hardwick's a Republican! He hates me!"

  "Which pretty much guarantees his participation in this lynching." Christina shut the television off. "This changes the trial landscape."

  "No joke. This is horrible! Those TV people totally trashed me."

  "What do you expect from tabloid news channels? You're famous. You're a target. That's how they pay their bills."

  "They said I conspired with Dennis!"

  "Honestly, how long did you think you could stay in politics before someone flung some mud your way? This is probably overdue."

  "But he said I helped plan a murder!"

  "Which was probably a mistake. Guillerman took it too far. If he had simply said you had some idea of Dennis's mind-set, he could've done almost as much damage, with a lot more credibility." She cleared her throat. "Since that's more or less true. But helped plan a murder? You? With your record? I don't think there are many people gullible enough to buy that. Even if it does come from an attractive news reader."

  "But I have no opportunity to defend myself."

  "You will. As soon as the judge clears it, you can make a statement. Explain that at no time did Dennis say he planned or even wanted to kill anyone. This will blow over. In the end, all anyone's going to remember from this mess is who won the trial."

  "I hope you're right." He clenched his fists together. "It just makes me so mad! They intentionally misled their viewers. They melodramatized the facts. And everyone in the city was watching."

  "Exactly." Christina looked straight into his eyes. "Do you not see? That's what you can use to your advantage. It may look grim now, but this could actually turn out to be the biggest break you've had in this entire impossible trial."

  21

  Loving was not excited about the prospect of a return visit to Scene of the Crime. He'd come to this bar almost every night this week. Wasn't all he had done, of course. He'd been surreptitiously following some of the officers who were at the hotel the night Sentz died. He'd run deep background checks on Sentz, Conway, and Shaw, as well as Dennis Thomas and his late wife. He'd bugged the police locker room, which was probably illegal and almost certainly would be fatal if they found out. He'd talked to everyone present when Joslyn Thomas was found and everyone at the hotel on the fateful day.

  But all of that had produced nothing. So here he was, back at Scene of the Crime, hoping to hit a home run when no one was even pitching. He knew Ben had been cross-examining the police witnesses, and he would have loved to have brought Ben something useful, but so far it hadn't happened. He had to come up with something before this trial was over and done.

  His first visit here had been mildly productive, in a macho confrontational sort of way. But the follow-ups had not fulfilled the promise of the original. Officer Shaw had obviously put the word out. No one was to talk to Loving, or anyone else associated with Ben Kincaid. And so far the other cops had toed the line. Loving had sat in silence for several nights running. Not stirring up any trouble, but not stirring up anything else, either.

  A more sensible person would probably give up, but sensible had never been Loving's strong suit. Ben needed help. That was good enough for him. Loving frankly couldn't care less about this Thomas guy. He didn't hold much with killers, crazy or not. But Ben he cared about. Ben had reached out to him when he really needed help, when the rest of the world was heaping scorn and abuse. He would do anything for the Skipper. And if that meant one more miserable night at Scene of the Crime, so be it.

  "Psst!"

  Loving looked both ways. He didn't see anything. But he supposed if the person hissing at him wanted to be seen, he wouldn't be hissing at him.

  "Psst!"

  Loving followed the general sound to a grove of trees a little ways off the road, still a good distance from the bar. He could hear the hooting and the music and the blare of the big-screen television, but there was no chance that anyone hanging out there could have heard the hisser.

  "Am I hot or cold?" Loving said as he entered the grove.

  "Over here."

  Loving walked slowly into the darkness. The scant moonlight eventually cast its glow on a man around thirty years of age. He was a police officer. Loving had seen him before, although he wasn't sure they'd ever been formally introduced. What was his name? Something Hispanic, but Loving couldn't quite place it…

  "I'm Joe Torres."

  "Good to meet you." Loving extended his hand, but the other man did not shake it. "You wantin' me?"

  "Yes. Are you still investigating the Sentz case?"

  "You know somethin'?"

  "Maybe. I was the front desk clerk most of the times Dennis Thomas came in asking for help."

  Loving eased in closer. "What happened?"

  "It's all pretty much as they all say. Thomas was desperate. He begged, pleaded, argued. Sentz wouldn't relent. Nothing seemed to matter. He said there were no grounds for opening a missing persons investigation, so he didn't."

  "Was anyone else involved in this decision?"

  "I never saw anyone out of the ordinary in the station. But it did seem weird. And I heard Thomas say he thought someone else was pulling Sentz's strings."

  "Dennis said he saw another man in the police station once when you were there. He didn't see the guy's face, but Dennis thought he was tellin' Sentz to lay off. Did you see anyone there?"

  "No.
"

  "Do you know who that might've been?"

  "No. But I wouldn't be-I mean-" Torres stopped, started again. "I know Sentz said he was going by the book. And it's true. Technically there were no grounds for action. But we all know that those rules are written mostly to give officers the ability to allocate manpower as necessary and to get rid of crackpots. Cases that aren't really cases. Thomas wasn't a crackpot. He was intelligent, resourceful, and obviously very worried about his wife."

  "Still, if the rules are on the books…"

  "Sentz had discretion. I've seen him use it before. If he wanted to start an investigation, he'd start an investigation. He'd find a way to make it good."

  "But he never did that for Dennis Thomas."

  "Exactly. Not even after seven days, when it was pretty obvious something had happened to her. That part was… unusual."

  "Why did you think he was stonewallin' Thomas?"

  "I don't know. But I can't help but think there was a reason. That's why I finally got something going myself."

  "You did?"

  Torres nodded. "I got one of the other detectives to sign off on it. Someone who didn't know the whole story. Sentz was furious when he found out. But we did find Joslyn Thomas."

  "Not in time."

  "Yeah." Torres's head lowered. "Not in time."

  "And Dennis Thomas attacked Sentz."

  Torres frowned. "He wasn't the only one who wanted to."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Sentz came in angry, furious. He was out for my blood. He was hurling abuse and outrage. But the fact is, Joslyn Thomas was in danger and we found her. It would've been a good time for him to be contrite and admit his mistake. Instead he came in like he didn't care about the woman who had just died. All he cared about was that someone went over his head. It was just twisted. Didn't make any sense."

  Loving pondered that a long moment. "And Thomas attacked him?"

  "Yeah. But Sentz went after him beforehand. Threw him down, scraped up his face. He was the first one to get physical."

  "What about all those ugly things Thomas supposedly said? The threats."

  "He said them. But put it in context. The man's stalling caused his wife enormous pain. He acted angry that we found her. He physically manhandled him. He had him arrested!" Torres shook his head. "I think I would've said a lot more than that if it had been me."

  "Why do you think Sentz was so determined not to investigate? And so angry when you did?"

  "I don't know. It was weird. No one will say anything now, because they don't want to get crosswise with Guillerman. But it was really bizarre."

  "What about that deal at the hotel? The stakeout. There had to be somethin' goin' on there."

  "I don't know much about that. It was very secret. Certainly nothing they'd share with a desk clerk."

  "How did they pick the men who would be involved?"

  Torres moved in closer, dropping his voice another notch, as if what he was about to say was particularly sensitive. "It was all the Benedict's Bunch. Sentz. Shaw. Conway. A couple of others."

  "The what?" Loving had been investigating this case a long time, but this was a new bit of terminology. "What did you call them?"

  "It's a reference to St. Benedict's. The hospital."

  The hospital where Joslyn Thomas worked. "What did those cops have to do with the hospital?"

  "They were moonlighting there."

  "As what?"

  "The word was, they were security."

  Off-duty cops working as hospital security? He supposed it was possible.

  "But I think there was more to it than that."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know exactly. I could just tell they were up to something. The whispers. Furtive looks. Sudden disappearances. Covering for one another."

  "Cops always stick up for one another."

  "This went way beyond that." Torres wrung his hands together. "Look, it's true I'm new on the force and I don't know all there is to know."

  "Sounds like you know a heck of a lot."

  "I worked hard to become a cop. I'm proud of where I am. I'm the first guy in my whole family to go to college. First to wear a uniform, you know? It means something to me. And I don't like it when-when someone else tarnishes what I worked so hard to get."

  "So what are you tellin' me about these men, Joe?"

  "I don't have any proof."

  "But…?"

  Torres inhaled deeply. "I thought they were dirty. I think they were involved in something dirty. Maybe that's why they were at the hotel. I wouldn't be surprised if it explains this whole mess."

  "How long had this been going on?"

  "I don't know. Long enough."

  "And you think it has something to do with Joslyn Thomas?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised. Especially after Sentz repeatedly refused to look for her. That was not something any normal red-blooded person would do. Unless he were covering something up."

  "Are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?" Loving moved in tighter. Despite the darkness, he managed to look the man straight in the eye. "First Joslyn Thomas disappears. Now the husband is on track to disappear. And every time, the same guys are involved."

  "That's how I see it."

  No wonder he hadn't come up with anything. He was totally barking up the wrong tree. And so was Ben.

  "Who did they report to at the hospital?"

  "Sorry. I don't know."

  "What department?"

  "I still don't know."

  "Any hints? Clues? Anything that might tell me where to look?"

  "I'm sorry." He glanced nervously over his shoulder. "I think I should go now."

  "Wait." Loving pulled a card out of his back pocket. "Before you leave. Take this. I want you to see Ben Kincaid."

  "I can't do that."

  "He'll take care of you."

  Torres began backing away. "I told you, I can't do that."

  "It's important. He needs to hear this."

  "I can't testify."

  "Then he'll have you swear out an affidavit."

  "No!"

  "We can protect you."

  "You can't. Not enough."

  "At least talk to him. Or talk to Thomas."

  "No!" Torres moved backward, fast.

  "It's important, Joe. A man's life is on the line."

  "I won't testify."

  "He can subpoena you."

  "No!" Torres turned and began to run.

  "What are you afraid of? Losing your job?"

  "I'm afraid of losing my life!" Torres shouted back. And then he disappeared into the night.

  Loving didn't bother chasing him. What would be the point? Even if he caught him, he couldn't make him talk. And the truth was, Torres was right to be concerned for his life. Smart, even. Cops did not like being ratted on, especially by one of their own. Other people came after cops, they circled the wagons. But when it was one of their own mounting the challenge…

  Well, he had a right to be concerned.

  Loving checked his watch. Hell with the bar. He wasn't likely to get more than he already had. He'd drive crosstown to St. Benedict's. He had no idea what he was looking for. But he needed to find something. Something Ben could use in court.

  Time was running out fast. If he didn't come up with something useful soon, it would be too late.

  22

  "A mistrial?" Dennis looked back at Ben, perplexed. "Why would I want that? We've been in trial more than a week!"

  "There are a million possible reasons. You're the defendant. And you're not currently in jail. Time is on your side."

  "Do you think we're losing? Is that why you want to start over?"

  "No. I have no idea what the jury is thinking. But we have taken some hits. This could be our chance to start from scratch."

  Ben had asked Dennis to come to the courthouse conference room early so they could discuss this all-important issue before he saw the judge. Mistrial was a delicate subject. A corporate defen
dant will always go for it; given the time value of money, the longer they can delay paying a judgment, the better. But with human beings, there were many more emotional issues. Humans wanted closure, resolution. Even if the trial process was nerve-wracking, even if they were uncertain about the result, there was always a strong desire to get it over with.

  "Guillerman made a critical error when he spoke to the reporters. Judge McPartland issued a no-exceptions gag order. No comments to the press. Ironically, it was Guillerman who first raised the issue, because he was tired of our press conferences. Of course, Guillerman will claim he wasn't commenting on the case as such-only on the breaking news story. But McPartland isn't an idiot. He won't be happy."

  "And the judge will give us a mistrial over that?"

  "He might. We'll have to impanel the jury, ask questions. If any of them watched the news report, they're off the jury. If more than six of them saw the news report, then we don't have enough alternates. We have to start over. And if one of the jurors mentioned it to the others, the entire jury pool is tainted. Automatic mistrial."

  "How long before a new trial would begin?"

  "Depends on the judge's schedule. I'm thinking it would be a good long while. Assuming the case remains with Judge McPartland."

  "It could go to another judge?"

  "It could go to another county. Or another state." Ben leaned across the conference table. "We could ask for a change of venue, arguing that the media coverage has irredeemably tainted the local jury pool."

  "Does that happen often?"

  "No. But it does happen, usually in high-profile cases. This is why Timothy McVeigh was tried in Colorado, not Oklahoma."

  "Do we have any idea what kind of judge we might get somewhere else?"

  "No. Potluck."

  "Would it be an improvement?"

  "Depends on how you think McPartland is leaning. And I have no idea. He's kept his cards pretty close to his vest so far."

  "So basically, asking for a mistrial is a big crapshoot."

  "Basically, yes."

  Dennis rubbed his fingers against his forehead. For once, the trial strategist who held all the answers seemed uncertain. "What do you think we should do?"