“Oooph.” He shook his head. “You’re on that one?”
That was definitely not the reaction I was hoping for. I kept my face straight and said, “Local counsel. Just checking on your findings.”
“You know the deal. I'll tell both sides my findings. Don't tell me anything confidential about your case because I'm not on anyone's side.”
“Ray. I am a lawyer.”
Ray smiled. “I know, Nate. But you'd be surprised how many lawyers forget it.” He waved a hand. “Come on, let's go back to my office and I'll pull the file.”
We went down the hall, passed four examination rooms that were fortunately closed, and went into Ray’s office. As Ray pulled up the file at his computer, I gazed absently at his degree from the University of Michigan that was displayed on the wall next to a picture of the football stadium with the moderately annoying title of “The Big House." I liked him anyway.
“Here it is,” he said. “Ask away.”
It's always tricky in an interview like this. You need to know what the coroner knows, but you don't want to suggest adjectives or terms to describe the body that he will turn around and use against you at trial. You need to stay general. “Do you need the file to remember this case?”
Ray smiled a little. “No.”
“What do you remember?”
“I remember thinking the guy got hit by a truck.”
“Really?”
“I'm not exaggerating, Nate. These are the kinds of injuries I see after a semi has hit someone.”
This seemed bad. “How so?”
“In most fatal fights, you have one skull fracture, maybe two. Not seventeen.”
I’d read it but it sounded worse when he said it. “He wasn't struck seventeen times was he?”
“I won't be able to say how many times he was struck.”
“Will you say a range?”
Ray nodded. “I can't say an upper range because it's conceivable Braggi hit him without breaking anything. Conceivable but not likely. From the location of the fractures, I can say he was struck no less than six times. Of course, that's just the blows to the skull. There were more fractures to the ribs and arms.”
“Two each?”
“Two each.”
“Method of injury?”
“Blows to the arms. Blunt force trauma—a table, a knee, or something like it—for the ribs.”
It just kept getting better. “Any opinion on cause of death?”
“You don't need a medical degree to know he was beaten to death, Nate.”
“No, I meant which blows killed him.”
“The first blows to the head most likely. The body blows are a close second, but it would’ve taken longer.”
“Did you do toxicology?”
“I did. Clean.”
That surprised me. “No alcohol?”
“No.”
“No heroin?”
“No heroin.”
I thought. “Any other health conditions that would have made him susceptible to dying?”
Ray fiddled with his mouse and then said, “Nate, I know you're just doing your job and that everyone deserves representation, but I've never seen anything like this. Not in a fight. To do this, you'd have to be insane.”
I thought for another adjective. “Furious?”
“Furiously insane maybe.”
“That what you going to say at trial?”
Ray shrugged. “If asked. I don't know that I'll volunteer it.”
I had everything I needed and so stood. “Thanks, Ray, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”
“I think your dad and me were going to go fishing the week of the trial. Should we postpone or do you think it’ll plead?”
“I’m just the local guy, Ray. Not my call.”
“Guess I’ll see you in a few weeks then.” Ray stood and shook my hand. “Let me walk you out.”
“I've taken up enough of your time, Ray, thanks. I know my way.”
“Okay.” He smiled and went back to his computer as I left his office. As I walked down the hall, I thought about the good-looking, personable coroner from the University of Michigan taking the stand at trial.
He was going to destroy us.
Ray’s physical findings didn’t support a theme of a white knight charging in to rescue a semi-conscious damsel. No, what he’d found was the wreckage of uncontained, animal rage. Seventeen. Seventeen fractures in the skull made by at least six blows, blows that kept coming after Chase was dead, or worse, pulverized him while he was still alive. Hanson was going to keep pounding on that physical evidence almost as often as Hank had pounded Chase, and Ray was going to do it in a smiling, competent way that would eviscerate us.
I was so deep in thought that I didn’t see the exam room door open as I passed. Its hard metal edge hit my shoulder and I caught it with one hand to catch my balance. It stopped the people on the other side too so I grabbed it, opened it the rest of the way, and stepped aside.
A man had his arm around a woman whose head was buried in his shoulder. She was sobbing.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Excuse me.”
The man flicked a glance at me, nodded, and led the woman away. I held the door for them and, out of reflex, looked into the room.
A medical examiner in blue scrubs was standing on the far side of a stainless steel table, pulling a sheet over the body on it. I had a quick impression of a young woman with pale skin and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail before the sheet settled, leaving only the silhouette of the form under the cover.
I felt a flash that started in my chest and pulsed out to my hands and feet. I pushed the door shut as the hall tilted to the side. I took a few steps before I had to stop and put a hand on the wall. My head was light but staying here was not an option so I staggered forward a few steps, then let the momentum carry me down the hall, through the lobby, and out into the warm sunlight. I climbed into the Jeep and even though the afternoon sun had heated the car like a furnace, I sat there, letting the heavy heat burn away the smell of ammonia and the smooth coolness of stainless steel.
I didn’t sit there long, I don’t think, but I did start to sweat before I started the car and blasted the air. It was five o’clock. Ish. I sat there, deciding whether I was going to the Brickhouse or the Railcar. Then I chose and drove.
It was close to seven that night when I came home and tossed my gym bag onto the couch. I went over to the fridge, grabbed a water, and drank it in two goes. I stared at the fridge and then I stared at the empty kitchen table and decided I really didn't have it in me to sit in there now. Not on a beautiful summer night.
Michigan summers being what they were, it was still sunny out and I figured I probably had another good two and a half, three hours of daylight. I grabbed another water, drank half of it and went to the garage. It was a bit of a mess really, with bags and tools strewn about on shelves and, as I opened the garage door, the Jeep and the Accord sat side-by-side in the driveway as mute evidence of my failure as a garage cleaner. I finished the water, tossed the bottle in the garbage, and went to the far wall to get my bike. We'd installed those hooks into the ceiling that let you hang your bike by its wheels and I ducked my head under the purple bike and removed the black one from the hook. The wheels still seemed plenty springy so I hopped on and set to peddling down the road.
I'm not a big biker, but like I said, this really was too nice a night to sit inside. I did a few laps around the neighborhood and found I was getting dizzy from going in circles so I headed out onto the county road. We were far enough north that there wasn't much traffic and I found that I could really uncork on the long, straight, traffic-light-free, mile-long sections of roads.
Like any good workout, my mind went elsewhere and soon I realized I'd done a couple of four-mile blocks. Or maybe three. The sun was getting close to the treetops and I figured I better get back before it was fully dusk. I coasted up the driveway and into the garage. When I dismounted, I had that wobbly fee
ling that the earth was moving that you get when you stand again after riding for a while. Straightening my legs seemed like an effort and I decided that I didn't really want to wrestle the bike back up onto its hooks next to its partner. Instead, I rolled it over to the other side of the garage and leaned it against the wall.
I pulled a beer out of the garage fridge and went out back to the pool. I stripped off my shirt and shoes and dove into the water wearing my shorts. We’d had a few cool nights so the water was a little cold, but it felt great after the ride. There are people that want the heater on all the time but that kind of defeats the purpose for me. As it became fully dark, I swam back and forth one more time then climbed out and sat in a deck chair. I hadn’t brought a towel so I sat there and let the air dry my skin and the beer wet my lips.
I was dry after a while and I went inside to change. I made a quick meal of eggs and rice and plopped down in front of SportsCenter.
I didn’t remember falling asleep.
What I remembered was my phone buzzing. I reached over to the ottoman without looking and declined it.
It rang again. I had no reason to answer a call in the middle of the night. Not anymore. I declined.
It rang a third time. I tilted the phone my way. It said 5:23 a.m. and “Cyn.” My legs felt stiff and my head felt like mush as I answered. “Don’t you two ever sleep?”
“I’m sorry, Nathan, but I need you at the office.”
“Alright.” I rubbed my eye. “I’ll be in about 8:00.”
“No, Nathan. I need you now.”
I turned the TV down. “I’m just the local guy remember, Cyn. Have Christian handle it until I get in.”
“I can’t, Nathan. Christian is dead.”
My stomach sank. The words bounced around on top of my head for a few moments before I absorbed them. I sat up.
“Nathan?”
“I’ll be right there, Cyn.”
“Thanks.” She hung up.
I stumbled to the shower, didn’t bother to shave, and dressed before I made my way, head swimming, to the Jeep and drove back to the office to find out how Christian Dane had died.
Discovery
13
I barreled into the third-floor office, sweating from running up the stairs. It wasn't the scene I expected.
Cyn sat at the main conference desk, phone to her ear, as she lifted a hand for me to wait. “Yes, Mr. Skald,” she said. “I'll notify the courts in the McKenzie, Reynolds, and Porter cases as soon as they open. I have six other substitutions to file by end of business. Yes, I'll send you the roster of who's been substituted.” She paused. “We don't know yet.” Another pause. “I expect by Monday. Yes, sir. I'll update you tomorrow. Thank you.”
As Cyn ended the call, she put her phone on the table and went back to her keyboard, fingers flying. “Just one moment, Nathan. Mr. Skald wants this right away.”
I watched her as she typed. Her features were sharp, her eyes were clear, and her face showed no sign that she had been roused in the middle of the night or that she might be in mourning. Instead, she was focused completely on whatever message she was typing. I waited about thirty seconds until she hit return and turned her chair towards me. “Sorry, Nathan. That really did have to go.”
I waved it off. “Cyn, what happened?”
She folded her hands. “Christian’s dead.”
“I know that. What happened?”
“He didn’t show yesterday, which isn’t unusual since he works in his room sometimes when he wants to think. I had emails from him though throughout the day. But then he didn’t return my calls last night and he didn’t answer my wake-up call this morning either.”
“You make a wake-up call?”
Her gaze was cool. “It helped him plan his day. So I went to his room at the hotel and checked on him.”
I didn’t comment on the fact that she had a key.
“He was sitting at the hotel desk, slumped over with his face on the wood. There was what was left of a room service hamburger on a plate so I assume he died last night.”
“Do we know how?”
There really wasn't any emotion at all showing on Cyn's face as she said, “They're investigating, of course, and I imagine they're going to do an autopsy, but according to the rescue squad, the working diagnosis is heart attack.”
“Just sitting there?”
Nothing changed on her face. “I've been doing this a long time with a lot of attorneys, Nathan. Christian would not be the first one to die at his desk.”
That was true as far as it went. I had known three myself. “Okay. What do we need to do about arrangements?”
“Nothing. It's been handled.”
“Already? It’s 6:15 in the morning.”
“We're a big firm. We’ve already put several people on it. As soon as the medical inquiry is done, we'll get him back to Minnesota to his family.”
“Let me know if you need any assistance with the local examiners.”
“Of course,” Cyn said and it was obvious that she highly doubted that any such assistance would be necessary.
I thought about the arrangements and the sorrow of a family I didn’t know and the logistics of handling the cases of a lawyer who’d suddenly died. Which brought me to, “So not to be calloused about this but when is your firm sending someone else out?”
“We’re not.”
I cocked my head. “So you’re withdrawing from the case? You're going to need the Court's permission for that this late in the game.”
“We’re not withdrawing, Nathan. We're going to continue to appear and give you all the assistance you require.”
I blinked but only once. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“At least that’s what we hope. Friedlander & Skald would like you to continue to represent Mr. Braggi and we will assist you in any way necessary.”
“You just got done saying you’re a big firm. You can assist me by getting on the phone and getting another one of your master litigators out here to handle this shit.”
Cyn shook her head, eyes cool. “You heard me just now. I’m managing coverage of all of the other cases Christian was on. That’s taking up all the other lawyers. None of them will be able to get here and up to speed in two weeks.”
“The judge will give us more time.”
“She might. But that’s not what Mr. Braggi wants. Or the partnership.”
“What?”
“Like the judge, neither Mr. Braggi nor my firm wants any delays.”
“This isn’t a delay. It’s a tragedy.”
“Even so.”
“What if I don’t want to do it?”
“You accepted our engagement as local counsel to serve in any role we’d like. This the role we’d like.”
“The role you’d like is stupid and it’s going to get your client killed.”
“Our client.”
“Our client will be a dead man.”
“Nathan, Friedlander & Skald would not have hired you if you weren’t the most capable attorney for the job.”
“I’ll withdraw.”
“On what grounds? You’re being paid, Mr. Braggi wants you, and you’ve not been asked to do anything the least bit unethical.”
I thought. She was right. Still, “I’m talking to Braggi. It’s his decision. If he says I’m off, I’m off.”
“Then I suggest you go to see him right away. We have a lot of work to do.”
“Maybe.”
Cyn was back to typing before I passed through the door.
As I was walking to my car, Danny pulled in. “Cyn told me,” he said as he got out of his car. “You hear anything else?”
I shook my head. “Sheriff Dushane will be investigating. See if you can find out anything else.”
“I think their hotel was on the Ohio side of town.”
I cursed our infernal city boundaries. A death on the Ohio side meant that we’d be dealing with the Carrefour City Police instead of the Ash County Sheriff
. The Carrefour City Police meant Detective Mitch Pearson and Detective Mitch Pearson meant a pain in my ass.
“Call Pearson then. See if there’s any other info he has on Christian’s death.”
Danny nodded. “What are we going to do?”
“She wants us to take over the case.”
The look on Danny’s face indicated that he really couldn’t guarantee the state of his pants as he said, “Can we do a murder case?”
“Can we isn’t the same as will we.”
“So what are we going to do?” Danny’s eyes were wide.
“You’re going to call Pearson. I’m going to visit Braggi.”
“And then?”
I thought. “Put together a motion to withdraw this morning and a motion for a continuance. Just in case.”
“What’s the basis?”
“Strategic differences.” I climbed into the Jeep. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
When I pulled away, Danny was still staring at the back of the Jeep, a little like my childhood dog. Unfair but true.
I drove off to tell Hank Braggi that his lawyer was dead.
“So Fancy Pants bought it, eh?” Hank’s eyes were ice blue and unmoved. “Can’t say as I’m surprised. You hungry?”
Hank was standing in the doorway to Cade’s kitchen in a khaki green Lizzy Saint concert shirt and faded jeans. He was just as big, his hair and beard were just as uniformly wild, and his eyes as glitteringly amused as I remembered even though it was barely seven in the morning. While it wasn’t exactly the response I’d been expecting, I also realized I’d been up for a while and that I was starving. “Actually, I am.”
“C’mon.” He waved and headed back into the kitchen. “Eggs it is. Cade left a bunch.”
“Why would you say that?”
He pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Offer you eggs?”
“Say you’re not surprised. About Christian.”
He shrugged and grabbed the eggs out of the fridge. “Sitting hunched in a room and only coming out to argue doesn’t seem like the healthiest way to live. Now if you actually came out and fought each other, that would be a different story. But making clever little arguments like a gnome isn’t much of a life. Amazing he lasted as long as he did.”
Lethal Defense Page 8
