Fire and Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 3)

by Peter O'Mahoney

  “I’m good.”

  “Bill.”

  “I’m good, Kate. Really, I am. Everything is going well.”

  “And your brother?”

  “The case is—”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant, but it turns out, Jonathon is a Harvey man after all. His eyes are on the prize. He wants to focus on the case as much as I do. He doesn’t want to touch all that emotional stuff yet.”

  “You two will have to talk about it all one day, you know. There will be an opportunity, no matter how this case turns out, for you and him to really sort some things out. And you can’t fight it, or hide from it, forever. You’ll have to face those demons,” Kate lectures him. “How did your sister take the news?”

  “She was surprised. Really shocked, but she said she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. There is still a lot of water under that bridge.”

  “Do you have any idea what happened between them?”

  “None. All I know is that it must have been bad. Jonathon must have done something.” Bill leans back in his chair.

  “We all make mistakes,” Kate comments. “How’s Penny holding up?”

  “Obviously she’s not doing as good a job as you.”

  “Of course!” Kate laughs again. The joy is still running through her veins after the four roller coasters earlier today. She just can’t help but laugh. “But is she doing fine?”

  “Well…” Bill holds back his words.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know…” He struggles to ask the question around her guilt because he is unconvinced of the answer.

  “You don’t have to talk about it now, but I will tell you something,” Kate states. “You have always been blinded by breasts, Bill. A pretty young girl walks in, and you’re under her spell. Whatever you think she did, whether it was not filing something right or stealing from petty cash, she probably has done it, but you’re just trying to convince yourself otherwise because she’s pretty. My advice – don’t be blinded by the breasts.”

  “You could be right.”

  “I’m always right, Bill,” Kate states firmly.

  “In this case, I really hope you aren’t.”

  Chapter 27

  Walking through the Downtown streets near the Wells Community Center for Mental Health, Bill is repeatedly approached by drunken men, asking for a dollar to keep them floating above the impending death that is approaching. None are threatening, and he doesn’t feel for a moment that he is in any real danger.

  Not one moment of fear.

  But he can sense it on the street.

  There is an air of unease amongst the homeless – the rumors have spread like wildfire. Someone is knocking them off – attempting to clean up Skid Row. Not a vigilante saving the city, but a cold-blooded killer pleasing themselves.

  Cautiously, Bill Harvey walks down the alley where Gerard West’s body was found.

  He studies the tight space, inspecting the piles of trash, looking at the disused cardboard boxes used as homes, searching for any clue. The walls are tagged with names that are unreadable, bullet holes filling some of the spaces.

  It’s uneven, dirty, reeking of filth.

  As he cautiously walks further into the alley, he watches for any movements in the fading light, any reason to stop.

  When he sees all is calm, his head drops as he realizes that this was Gerard’s life – once a highflyer living well, but in the end, he lived in the dirt, disregarded and forgotten about. His world had closed in around him, and this was all he had.

  The alley is dark, late at night, and Bill walks past a man lying under a blanket, sleeping against the wall.

  At least, he looks like he is sleeping; he could be passed out from the alcohol.

  He continues further down the alley, wandering past the back door of a restaurant, stained with urine, covered in graffiti. He walks past the mural of a local artist, a surprisingly good piece of art if it wasn’t graffitied on the walls of a back alley.

  Stopping, he leans against the wall, sad that this is where his friend finished.

  Sad that this where it all ended; a ghost of his past life.

  The back of his head taps against the wall. He has to find justice for Gerard, and if that means putting his brother away, then so be it.

  He has to stop this killer.

  Crack.

  There is a noise, movement at the other end of the alley.

  Near the entrance.

  Near the streetlight.

  From the obscurity of the darkness, he watches a silhouetted figure walk down the alley, sticking close to the walls.

  5’10. Broad. Confident.

  Not a homeless person. Not someone looking for a place to sleep for the night.

  But then the shadow stops.

  It studies something in the alley, assessing the situation.

  With one swift movement, the shadow kicks at something, and then jumps back, poised to defend itself.

  The movement is swift.

  Trained.

  And then it does it again.

  Leaping back, its pose is ready for defense.

  Nothing comes at it.

  This time, the shadow moves closer to the position on the ground.

  Slowly.

  Bill tries to reposition himself to see what the shadow is moving towards.

  The shadow leans down.

  Ready.

  He moves closer. Still cloaked in darkness.

  “Wait,” he whispers to himself. “The sleeping man.”

  The sleeping man slowly climbs to his feet. He says something. Something inaudible. He moves to the shadow.

  In one swift movement, the shadow slams the drunk back to the ground.

  “Hey!”

  Bill moves.

  The shadow jumps up. Runs.

  Fast.

  No hesitation. No stopping.

  The shadow flees.

  Much too fast for the aging legs of Bill Harvey.

  With effort, Bill runs to the end of the alley, looking for any movement on the quiet street.

  Nothing.

  Frantically, he runs up and down, looking for a place where the shadow could have escaped to.

  Nothing.

  No sign of any movement.

  Not a thing.

  In a panic, he runs back to the alley, down to the sleeping man, who is now rubbing his neck.

  He runs to his side. “Who was that?”

  The response is incoherent, a mess of jumbled words. The smell of tequila on his breath is overpowering.

  “What did you see?!”

  Again, the response is a mess.

  This man was not sleeping.

  He was drunk.

  And he was a target of the serial killer.

  Chapter 28

  “Why am I here?”

  “Don’t ask ‘why’ for everything, Penny. Sometimes you have to do what is asked of you without question, especially in this job.”

  “But I would like to know.” She shrugs.

  Bill stops his rush through the Metropolitan Detention Center, turning to look down at his assistant. “I would like you to take notes of our conversation. That’s why you’re here this morning. To do a job. That’s why I pay you.”

  She looks confused about the request. “You want me to write down all of the conversation?”

  “Not all of it.” Bill shakes his head and continues through the security checkpoint. The security scans his body, his briefcase, and his shoes. “Just the important parts of the conversation. You can take notes, and then type it up later this afternoon.”

  “How do I know which parts of the conversation are important?” she asks as the security guard smiles nicely at her.

  Bill has never received a smile from these guys.

  “You’ll know.”

  “Ok, boss,” she says as she tries to hide a yawn.

  “Tired, Penny? Late night?”

  “Sorry.” She
stretches an arm across her chest. “Yeah. It was. Hopefully, the coffee will kick in soon, and I’ll be wide awake.”

  His eyes linger on Penny as she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and he leads the way to the meeting room. The guard standing next to Bill also lets his eyes linger on Penny, but for an entirely different reason.

  When they reach the meeting room, she waits next to the door, holding her notepad to her chest. Smoothly, she brings out her mobile phone, holds it at arm’s length away from her, smiles, and snaps a picture.

  “Really?” Bill raises his eyebrows.

  “This is the first time I’ve been inside a prison. I want to remember it. I’m going to post in on my Facebook page, and I’ll look back at it in a few years and remember this moment.”

  “We’re the sum of our experiences, Penny. We are not the sum of our Facebook feed.”

  Penny stops, staring at the Luddite next to her. “But they’re photos. They’re memories. This is important.”

  “Photos are an indulgence, a distraction from what matters.”

  “And what matters?”

  “The present. The here and now. Photos are only a distraction to convince yourself that you were once happy. They’re not reality.”

  “Don’t you have a photo album that you like to look at? One with pictures of your first wife perhaps?”

  Bill stops, not answering the personal question.

  Those are times that he has tried to move past, grow beyond. His love for his first wife was deep, lifelong, and when she passed after a short cancer battle, he spent the next month drinking, crying and looking at their wedding album.

  The pictures are still stained with whiskey and tears.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. You ok?” Penny asks.

  He still doesn’t answer; instead, he reaches for the door handle. With his hand on the cold metal, he draws a deep breath, closes his eyes, and re-centers himself.

  No more soppy emotions now.

  He’s had enough of that.

  Right now, he needs to be on top of his game. Right now, is his chance to take this case to another level.

  He isn’t trying to draw information from his brother, that’s not why he’s here.

  He’s trying to set-up a killer.

  One misplaced word.

  One flinch.

  That’s all he needs.

  Something to confirm his suspicions.

  Chapter 29

  “Bill. I’m so glad to see you.” Jonathon Harvey is standing as they walk into the room, worry spread across his face.

  “Jonathon. I hope you’re well.”

  Their greeting is easier this time – a solid handshake and a nod, like two men without a past, focused on results in the future.

  Just the way the Harvey men prefer it.

  “Any progress on the investigation?”

  “As a matter of fact Jonathon, yes, we have made some progress. But it might not be what you want to hear.”

  His eyes light up with a sense of hope. “Please, tell me. Tell me you have the real murderer. That’s what I need to hear today. It’s been a very hard morning in here. I know what prisons are like, but this has been hell. I couldn’t do seven years in here. Not here. There are so many gangs. Everyone is associated with someone. This place would ruin me. I wouldn’t make it through.”

  Bill places his briefcase on the table in the middle of the room and offers his hand out for Jonathon to sit down as well. Once Jonathon is seated, Bill continues, “This is Penny, my temporary assistant. She is going to take notes of our conversation today. I need you to be very honest with me today, Jonathon. I need you be very truthful.”

  Jonathon nods. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Good.” Bill opens his notepad. “We’re going to take you through the process first. We will have to enter a plea shortly, possibly later today, and after that, the trial will be scheduled, likely to be within two months. This is a good timeframe; however, the time we have to catch the real killer is starting to run thin, so I’m going to be quite heavy-handed with these questions today. It’s very important that you answer these questions truthfully and to the best of your knowledge.” His words are firm, and the wall around his emotions is holding tough.

  “Do you think we’ll have to go to trial?” Jonathon’s brow creases as he leans forward on the meeting table. “Two months in here? I don’t know, Bill. I don’t know if I can make it. This place is hell.”

  “You don’t have a choice.” Bill drums his fingers on the table. “Now, the next set of questions might not seem relevant to you right now, but trust me, they are. They’re very relevant to this case. We’re closing the net on the real killer, and I need to ask these questions of you. Take your time to answer them.”

  Jonathon nods apprehensively. “Ok.”

  “What have you got against alcoholics?”

  “Alcoholics?”

  “Yes, Jonathon. Drunk people.”

  “Me? Nothing?” Jonathon looks confused. “Why would I have anything against them? I have been through the worst life has to give; I’m in no position to judge anyone. If someone is struggling with addiction, I want to help them, not judge them. I know what they’re going through; I’ve been through it myself. They need help, not judgment. I have nothing against alcoholics. Why would you even say that? I don’t see how that is relevant.”

  “You would have seen a lot of drunk people in the past, Jonathon. A lot of people that you have interacted with would have been addicts of one type or another.”

  “I guess so.” Jonathon winces at the memories. “I’m not a hater anymore, Bill. Before I got clean, sure, I was full of hate and anger. I used to get into bar fights all the time. I’d be trying to get clean, and I’d hang out in bars, looking for a way to distract myself. I’ve been in lots of bar fights. But that’s a different life. I don’t live that life anymore. Not now. I haven’t lived that life for over eighteen months. I’m full of love and life now. It’s a different world.”

  “So you have nothing against alcoholics?”

  “No,” he pleads. “I don’t see how that affects my case. I don’t see how that has anything to do with what happened to the dead guy. I don’t get it.”

  “When you were a teenager, you were charged with vandalism of a liquor store. You smashed the front window and numerous bottles of liquor inside the store. You didn’t steal anything, you just smashed things.”

  “That was just mindless vandalism, Bill. It had nothing to do with the actual store. It wasn’t a targeted attack. I have nothing against liquor. That was just some boys going wild, and the store was the closest thing to us at the time. And just because I was an addict doesn’t mean I hate alcoholics.”

  “So you hate alcoholics?”

  “No.” He looks at his brother confused. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t kill one. That’s going too far, even for me.”

  “We’re not talking about just one drunk. We’re talking about many.”

  “Many? What are you on about, Bill? What’s going on? I don’t understand what’s happening.”

  “Your case has a lot in connection with a number of other unsolved crimes. It appears that the person who killed Gerard West might be guilty of multiple murders. The details of this crime match another seven crimes, possibly eight, or even more. There might be a serial killer at work on the streets of Los Angeles and Gerard West appears to be one of the victims.”

  “What? I came in here thinking that this was a chance to move the case forward, but instead, I’m being accused of multiple murders?!” Jonathon stands abruptly, the chair tipping backward, falling loudly on the floor. “I don’t understand. I thought you were on my side. I thought that we were supposed to be working towards a solution, not digging a deeper hole for me. I haven’t killed anyone. I’m not a killer, and certainly I’m not a serial killer. You have to believe me, Bill. You have to believe me.”

  “What we have is a possible connection between your case and a
number of other murder cases. The net is closing on the serial killer. All the deaths are very similar, and all the evidence points to one person in this room.”

  Uncomfortable silence sits over the room like a wet blanket.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Bill studies Penny for her reaction.

  He needs to see her squirm.

  Sit uncomfortably.

  Wipe her face as a subconscious attempt to hide from the statements.

  But she gives him nothing.

  Not a flinch.

  Not a moment of nervousness.

  Not one clue.

  Nothing.

  She is either a very talented liar, or she is truly clueless about what he’s saying.

  “I don’t understand.” Jonathon shakes his head. “Are you saying that I’m going to be charged with other murders? Is that what’s going to happen? I’m going to be charged as a serial killer?”

  The confusion on Jonathon’s face is clear.

  “Soon. The prosecution is looking for evidence to link the guilty party to the other cases. They’re working very hard on this case. And they are very close to finding that link.”

  Still no reaction from Penny.

  Nothing.

  Not one movement.

  “What!” Jonathon snaps, slamming his fist down on the table. “I have a lawyer, my brother, that is accusing me of worse crimes than what the police are accusing me of! I thought you were on my side. I thought we were a team. Now I have to wonder whether you will throw me under the bus during the trial.”

  “We’re on the same side, but there’s no hiding from this fact. We have to be prepared for what’s coming.”

  “Is this about our past? Because I’m sorry, Bill. I really am. I did the wrong things. I destroyed lives. I know that, but I can’t change that now. I’m sorry! If this is about what I did—”

  Bill closes his eyes and holds out his hand, his palm facing his brother. “It has nothing to do with our past. It has everything to do with the present.”

  “Are you sure? Because if this is some underhanded way to get back at me for what I did to our family, then I’ll just get a new lawyer. If you’re not on my side, then I don’t want you here. I’ll get someone new.”