“No girl wrote that letter,” said Iain.
“What?” said Wheeler.
“I read the letter,” said Iain. “And it was almost certainly made up. There were certain turns of phrases throughout that are only found in the pro-life movement’s way of speaking. And the way the sentences were put together, some of the vocabulary… I’d say it was written by someone much older than a teenage girl. Possibly even a pastor at a church. What I figure happened was that someone told the pastor—or whoever it was—that Dr. Mukherjee was sending girls to Planned Parenthood when he found out that they were pregnant. And I think the pastor decided to write a letter to the editor, and he figured one from a grieving mother would be more effective than one from an angry man.”
“That’s bull,” said Wheeler. “You can’t know who wrote the letter.”
“Not with certainty,” said Iain.
Elke had seen the letter too. It was included in the case file. She had thought something seemed a bit off about it, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She was pretty sure that Iain’s analysis was spot on. “Whatever the case, it’s not important,” said Elke. “It was true enough that Dr. Mukherjee referred pregnant girls to Planned Parenthood and that some of them did get abortions.”
“Yes,” said Chapman. “That was true. So, the guy was a murderer.”
“Just as good as one, anyway,” said Wheeler. “He had an opportunity to save those babies’ lives, but he sent them to be slaughtered.”
Elke pressed her lips together.
“You know what they do in an abortion?” said Chapman. “You know that it’s torture for those babies, and that they scream? They feel pain.”
“No one thinks abortions are pleasant,” said Iain. “But lawfully, they’re not considered murder, so that’s what we concern ourselves with.”
“Yeah, we know that,” said Wheeler. “Just one more reason why the government is screwed up. I mean, here’s the liberal side, making all this noise about whether or not gay people can get married or not, and all the while sanctioning the wholesale killing of babies.”
Elke took a deep breath. Truthfully, she wasn’t exactly gung-ho for abortions. She knew that she could never have one herself, no matter the circumstance. But she also didn’t feel it was her right to make that choice for every other woman. She understood a lot of pro-life arguments, even agreed with them. Most pro-lifers were not crazy like Chapman and Wheeler. Most weren’t racist assholes. “This isn’t really about the government or about liberals, is it? It’s about Dr. Mukherjee.”
“Well, he was one of those guys,” said Chapman. “He was one of the baby-killing bastards, and whatever happened to him, he deserved it.”
“His wife too?” said Elke.
Wheeler shrugged. “I don’t know about her. Maybe she was an innocent woman who got caught in the crossfires or maybe she was just as guilty as him because she stood by him while he helped negotiate baby killing. So, maybe she got what she deserved too.”
“But we didn’t do it,” said Chapman.
“No, it wasn’t us,” said Wheeler. “We didn’t kill him.”
“But you think he should have been killed?” said Elke.
“Definitely,” said Chapman. “Look, it was never about race, either. It was about the abortions. I mean, that’s why we were angry with him.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t condone killing him, to be fair,” said Wheeler.
“I read your newsletters,” said Iain.
“So did I,” said Elke.
“You said that he should be strung up in the village square for all to see,” said Iain.
“‘A good old fashioned hanging’ is how you put it,” said Elke. “At least I think so.”
Wheeler and Chapman exchanged a look.
Chapman turned back to them. He had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Okay, we were practically kids back then. I was twenty-three, Zach was twenty-two. We might have said something like that, but we didn’t mean anyone should actually kill him. I mean, not really.”
“Yeah,” said Wheeler. “It’s good that he’s dead. He deserved to die. But we don’t advocate murder. We’re not about violence.”
“Right,” said Chapman. “We’re good people. We’re not even anti other races.”
“No, we’re not,” said Wheeler. “We just think that people are more comfortable around their own kind, that’s all. And if you look at the world, you’ll see that we’re right. People tend to self-segregate.”
“How many years has it been since all those laws were abolished? And we still have black neighborhoods,” said Chapman.
“And black music,” said Wheeler.
“And black TV shows,” said Chapman.
Elke smiled coldly. “Well, it sounds like things are exactly the way you like it already, doesn’t it?”
Wheeler and Chapman exchanged another look.
“All we want,” said Chapman, “is to be left alone and not to be forced to do anything we don’t believe in. I would that’s our right as Americans.”
“Okay,” said Elke.
Chapman stubbed out his cigarette. “The night that bastard was murdered, we were at a rally. Lots of people saw us there. We can give you their names if you want to call them and ask them.”
“Great,” said Iain. “Let’s have those names, then.”
* * *
“So, Rory’s looking even more likely,” Elke was saying, peering up at the board. “She clammed up when we talked to her today, and she’s got no alibi at all.” She was back in the conference room with Frankie and Iain. The three were talking over the latest developments in the case.
“What if it is her?” said Frankie. “How would we prove it?”
“Well, if the DNA doesn’t match Squires or Kelley, it might match her,” said Iain.
“Do you think she did it?” said Frankie. “I mean, there’s some logistical problems we haven’t worked out, right? Like the gun. We still haven’t talked about the gun.”
Elke turned away from the board and went over to the conference table. “Yeah, that’s true.” She turned to look at Iain. “Hudson, you were the one who brought this case up to us. You don’t think the gun’s a barrier?”
He turned to face her, confused. “Why would the gun be a barrier?”
“The Mukherjees were shot with their own gun,” said Frankie. “It was kept in a safe in the living room, and whoever killed them must have had the combination.”
“Which does tend to point to Saanvi,” said Elke.
“Because she would have known the combination,” said Frankie. “She lived there.”
“There were no other fingerprints on the safe besides Dr. Mukherjee’s,” said Iain. “I think he got the gun out himself.”
Elke sat down in a chair. “That’s an interesting thought.”
Iain flipped the board over. On the other side it was blank. “May I?”
“Sure,” said Elke.
Iain began to draw on the board. “Okay, so the couch is here, where Dr. and Mrs. Mukherjee were found.” He drew two Xs on the board. “Here’s the kitchen.” Another X. “Here’s the bedroom.” Another X. “I still think our best option is Kelley and Squires, since they tended to rob houses this way. They would have come in and found Dr. Mukherjee. They would have had their own guns, and they would have forced him into the living room at gunpoint. The safe is right next to the couch. Dr. Mukherjee finds a way to open the safe and get out his gun while they aren’t watching. But before he can use it, they see it and they force him to give the gun up.”
“How?” said Frankie.
“Most likely by threatening the life of his wife,” said Iain, tapping the X for the bedroom. “Then, once they’ve got the gun, it only makes sense to use it. The guns they have might somehow be traceable to them. But using the Mukherjees’ own gun means that no one knows who did it. It’s a win-win for the murderers.”
“Or murderer, if it was Rory?” said Elke. “How does she manag
e that if it’s her?”
Iain considered. “I have no idea.”
“Maybe the gun was out when Rory came in,” said Elke. “Maybe Dr. Mukherjee heard a suspicious noise and left his sandwich and went to the safe for the gun. Then when he saw it was only Rory, he set the gun down.”
“And then she grabbed it,” said Frankie. “Maybe she didn’t come there to murder him, just to talk. But maybe once the gun was in her hands, it got out of control.”
Elke nodded. “Tempest could have heard the commotion and come out to see what was going on and gotten drawn into it.”
“By that time, Rory’s panicking,” said Frankie. “They know who she is, she’s threatened them with a gun. She may not have known how to get out of the situation.”
“Yeah,” said Elke. “You seem to have a good understanding of her.”
Frankie shrugged, but she looked pleased. “I’m just throwing things out.”
“Well, maybe you should go talk to her instead of us,” said Elke. “Try to get a DNA sample.”
“Right now?” said Frankie.
“No, let’s give her a little bit of time. She was worried today. Let her calm down,” said Elke.
“Sure thing,” said Frankie.
Elke got up from the conference table and walked over to the board. She peered at the Xs that Iain had drawn. “All right, what if it’s Chapman and Wheeler?”
“I thought you said they had tons of witnesses that they were at a rally,” said Frankie. “I saw you giving the list to Amos.”
“He did check into that,” said Elke. “People may have seen them at the rally early, it was over by 10:00, even if they stayed the whole time, which no one could confirm.” She shook her head. “You should have seen those guys. They weren’t the least bit sorry that the Mukherjees were dead. They were practically inhuman.” She turned to Iain. “You agree we can’t rule them out, right?”
“We can’t say for certain they didn’t do it,” said Iain.
“But you don’t think they did,” said Frankie. “Do you?”
Iain touched his chest. “I still think it’s Kelley and Squires.”
“You don’t think Rory’s lack of alibi is suspicious?” said Frankie.
Elke snorted. “He doesn’t think any alibi means anything unless it’s backed up by video or DNA.”
“That’s not exactly true,” said Iain. “It’s only that people are unreliable. They don’t always see what they think they saw. Eyewitness testimony is a subpar form of evidence, that’s all.”
Frankie tapped her chin. “Well, I guess you’ve got a point.”
“He does?” said Elke.
“Sure,” said Frankie. “When defending people, you often find that people are sure they saw your client places that your client never was. It happens more often than you’d think.”
Elke waved this away. “All right, fine. People are all blind. But that doesn’t mean that Chapman and Wheeler didn’t do it.”
“You like them for this?” said Frankie.
“I think it would be great to put them away,” said Elke. “I mean, if they were actually guilty, can you imagine the positive PR that would be? If this were a hate crime, and we uncovered it? That would be amazing.”
“But is that what the evidence is telling us?” said Iain.
“It’s not telling us no,” said Elke.
“True,” said Iain. “We can’t rule them out. Actually, I guess if it was them, it could have gone down quite similarly to the way that I imagine things with Kelley and Squires. They might have brought their own guns as well.”
“But decided to use his own gun against him instead to cover their tracks?” said Frankie.
“They might have had even more of a reason to do so,” said Elke. “Their guns may have been legally registered to them.”
“They wouldn’t have been so stupid as to come there with their own guns,” said Iain. “They would have known they’d get caught.”
“Maybe they weren’t planning to murder them,” said Elke. “Similar to what Frankie was saying about Rory.”
“What? They just came to confront him?” said Frankie.
“Or to scare him,” said Elke. “Maybe they disguised themselves, wore masks or something. Maybe they just thought they were going to tell him to stop the abortions, but everything ended up going sideways.”
There was a banging noise.
Everyone turned to see DA Andrews through the glass wall. He was barreling down the hallway toward the conference room. He was holding up a newspaper. He stopped in the doorway, holding up the paper. “What the hell is this?” he growled.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Iain squinted at the paper. That was a copy of the Haven Hills Daily News, which was… Oh, man, talking to that reporter at the elevator hadn’t been a really weird dream, had it? He was dragging today, having lost far too much sleep the night before.
The headline on the paper DA Andrews was holding read, DA’s Office Doesn’t Believe Claims of Its Own New Unit.
Andrews slapped the paper down on the table.
Elke was squinting down at the paper, clearly confused.
Andrews pointed at Iain. “You. This is you.”
Iain held up his hands in surrender. “Sir—”
“Don’t speak,” said Andrews. “It doesn’t matter who it is.” He whirled on Elke. “This is your unit. So, if crap like this goes down, it’s ultimately your responsibility. So, Ms. Lawrence, tell me, what the hell is this?”
“I…” She picked up the paper, scanning the article. “I haven’t seen this, sir.”
Andrews folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll spare you the time it takes to read it and just give you a summary. The article says that you’re investigating the Mukherjee case from twenty-five years ago. I remember that case. I tried that case.” He pointed at his chest.
Elke cringed. “Really? That was yours?” Man, seriously, should she have picked a case that was the DA’s personal case for the first case? Twenty-five years ago, he hadn’t been the DA, but had been hired by the former DA to prosecute cases. This was one of his own. Damn, damn, damn.
“But that’s fine,” said Andrews. “You’re meant to operate independently of the rest of the DA’s office, because we want these cases to be objective. Personally, I’m fairly sure everything we did on that case was sound. They were in the house for an hour, by their own admission, and the weapon was the gun in the house. It was open and shut.”
Elke chewed on her lip. “Sir, we think that—”
He held up a hand to stop her. “I don’t want to talk about the case. You work on the case. I already worked on that case. You want to investigate that case, fine. Go ahead. Although, I do have to admit that I’m shocked you already have proof of the accused’s innocence after the short time you’ve been working.”
“Proof of innocence?” said Elke. “We don’t.”
Andrews tapped the newspaper. “Says here you do.”
“Well, that’s not accurate.”
“It also says that I and my staff are being so bullheaded that we won’t believe you unless you find evidence that someone else committed the crime.”
Iain flinched. That was not exactly what he had said, but he could see how his words could have been twisted to that meaning.
“No, sir,” said Elke. “No one in this office thinks—”
“Doesn’t matter about that, does it?” said Andrews. “Because now the whole city thinks it. And I’ve got a year and a half before elections. I started this unit to help with public relations. Considering what happened with your husband, I thought you and I were on the same page, Ms. Lawrence.”
Her husband? What was Andrews talking about? Iain found his curiosity piqued.
Elke’s face froze. “We are,” she said in a clipped voice. Apparently, the subject of her husband was a sore spot.
“Well, it doesn’t seem like it,” said Andrews.
“I’m so sorry,” said Elke. “I really have no
idea what happened.” She glared at Iain. “But I can assure you, sir, nothing like this will happen again.”
“It had better not, Ms. Lawrence,” said Andrews. “You know, I hired you as a favor. I didn’t want any taint on my CRU, and I was afraid with what had happened with your husband, it would bring a black cloud over everything. I was convinced otherwise, and so far, it hasn’t been a problem. But something like this?” He tapped the paper again. “Well, this doesn’t look good for anyone.”
“I promise you, sir, you’ll never have to deal with something like this again.”
“Yeah.” Andrews smiled tightly. And then he swept out of the office.
Everyone was quiet.
Elke picked up the paper. Slowly, silently, she read the article. She was trembling.
Iain shifted on his feet. Great. There was going to be confrontation. More confrontation. There had already been all the anger from the DA, but now there was going to be even more anger, and it was going to be directed at him.
He wanted to run out of the room, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to stand his ground and take it.
Elke tossed down the paper and turned to Iain, red faced. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t say what they printed,” said Iain.
“Why were you talking to the press? We haven’t even formally announced that we’re investigating the Mukherjee case. But you confirmed it.”
“Well, we’ve been running around talking to all the people involved in the case,” said Iain. “It was going to get out one way or the other.”
She let out a harsh hiss of air. “It wasn’t your place to confirm it.”
“Fine,” said Iain. “I made a mistake.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Walk me through this. At what point did you decided it was a good idea to talk to the press?”
“It was two in the morning. The reporter was in the lobby of my apartment building. He followed me to the elevator.”
“Why were you out at two in the morning?” she said.
“Th-that doesn’t matter,” he sputtered.
She reddened again. “Sorry. I guess it doesn’t. Were you drunk?”
Grain of Truth (Innocence Unit Book 1) Page 11
