“Michelle. Juan Lewis is Michelle’s boyfriend. They’ve been dating for years. From what I can gather, it’s not a healthy relationship, it’s based on drug use. Lewis used Michelle to make connections with Hardgrave, and then he used Hardgrave to get information about other people he could use. He’s a drug dealer that has escaped charges for a very long time.”
“He sounds like a very cunning man,” Kate added. “And all this talk of drugs has you thinking about your brother?”
Sighing, Harvey looked at the other end of the bar, eager to avoid eye contact with the woman who knew him the best. “Yes.”
“Where do you think he is now?”
“Jonathon? I don’t know. I just hope that he’s doing well for himself. That’s all I want to hear. I don’t need a hug from him, I don’t need his forgiveness, I just need to hear that he’s doing fine. That’s all I want to know. I just want to know that my little bro is doing well.”
“With that strong Harvey blood, I’m sure he is.”
“Maybe.” Harvey shrugged. “And maybe not. But enough about lost souls, Kate. Let’s solve this case quickly, so I don’t have to confront anymore of these emotions.”
His grin covered the fact that what he was saying is true.
He would much rather be in the thick of the action, knee-deep in investigation and adrenaline, than having time to listen to the thoughts in his own head.
“What do you need me to do, Bill?” Kate smirked, happy that she had dug Harvey out of the hole before he spent the rest of the night sitting on the same bar stool. Another beer was placed in front of Kate, and her eyes lit up again.
“There’s not a lot you can—” Harvey grimaced as Kate gulped down half the pint in one motion. “There’s not a lot you can do at the moment.”
“Come on, Bill.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “There must be something I can help with. Let me help you. I really want to.”
“If you really want to, you can look into Michelle Hardgrave. Do a little bit of digging around, but don’t get close to her. I imagine that she’s dangerous, so don’t confront her at all. Just ask around, search the Internet, that sort of thing. I want to find out how she spends her days, who she’s close to, where her income comes from, how she supports herself. That sort of thing.”
“I’m on it, sir.”
“But be careful, ok? She’s a drug addict and that means she’s dangerous.”
“Yes, boss,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to meet with the prosecution, and then I’m going to find out more about these drug dealers. They’re the key to the López case, and possibly the Hardgrave case. I have to get close enough to them to find out what they know.”
“You must promise you will be careful as well, Bill.” The joy escaped from Kate’s face. “They’ve killed before, and they could do it again. These men are dangerous drug dealers. Promise me you’ll be cautious.”
Harvey smiled again. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter 11
As he walked through the corridors leading to the prosecutor’s office, Bill Harvey’s shoulders stiffened. He loved the pressure that came with the first meeting between opposing lawyers—the meeting that could make or break a case.
He didn’t have to meet face-to-face with the prosecuting attorney, but he never missed the opportunity. He was looking for that one small crack in their armor, that one brief moment when they hesitated to answer a question, that one quick glance to the left to cover a lie. So many times, this initial meeting had allowed him to follow a line of investigation that he hadn’t previously considered; a small detail that could change a case.
Conversely, the prosecution might sense Harvey’s apprehension about answering a question, and it would allow them to pounce. He had to play the game well.
The risks were high—but so were the rewards.
Much the same way Harvey lived his life.
“Mr. Harvey, it’s been a while,” the prosecutor stood at the door, welcoming him into her clean, open office.
The large room was spotless. There was no dust, nothing out of place, and the wooden desk looked like it had been polished within an inch of it’s life. An antique leather couch sat to one side of the room, and law books lined the other side. The blinds were drawn, and the dull lighting gave the room as sense of calm.
“Miss Shannon Chettle. It’s always a pleasure.”
After attending law school together, Harvey and Shannon Chettle paths had crossed in the courtroom numerous times. A feisty spirit with an energetic attitude, she had the ability to turn the case on its head with one well-placed statement.
Her exquisite use of the English language left many in awe. Despite being Chicago born, she spent her teenage years boarding at an exclusive school in London; the slight English accent was still noticeable, and a little seductive.
“When was the last time I was up against you?” Chettle walked to the head of her desk, taking small steps in her tight pencil skirt, and opened a file on her laptop. Harvey sat in the dark leather chair in front of her desk.
“Shannon, I think the last time you were up against me was late on a Friday night after we settled on a case earlier that day…”
“Oh yes…” Chettle’s mind drifted back to the last time she saw Harvey. She twirled her fingers through her long dark hair as she remembered the passionate night three years ago. It was a moment of release; a moment of sexual tension and passion so fiery that it exploded into a mind-blowing night. “You look as formidable and as attractive as the last time I saw you, Bill. Age has been kind to you.”
“And you’re still as pretty.” He smiled. “But that isn’t what we’re here to talk about.”
“Ah, yes…” Chettle scrolled through the document on the computer screen. “The extraordinary trial of the innocent drug dealer. A briefcase full of drugs was found in his apartment, next to his bed, no less. A street value of $50,000, I hear. Of course, the drugs weren’t his, were they?”
“That’s what he said.”
“And what do you think?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think, Shannon. It only matters what happens in the courtroom. You must know that by now.”
“I thought you could read people better than anyone else. You must have an opinion.”
“I have an opinion.”
“And please, feel free to share your opinion with me.”
“My opinion is that you look beautiful.”
“About the case.” Chettle grinned and pushed a strand of brunette hair behind her ear.
“The case.” Harvey sat back in his chair, crossed one leg over the other, and looked around the perfectly maintained office. Only a perfectionist could keep an office this organized. “I think the evidence is soft, I think the motives are questionable, and I think that the whole case is pathetic.”
“Then you should ask yourself, why would we even bother with a flimsy case?” Chettle made eye contact. Her deep blue eyes were hypnotic, and Harvey struggled to maintain focus.
“We both know why you’re pressing ahead with this case. You’re after someone else. You’re pushing my client into a corner, and hoping that he breaks. Despite the fact that my client dedicates his time to helping those recovering from drug addiction, you want to use him to expose someone else’s crime. This is a man that does good in the world, and you’re willing to sacrifice his future to capture someone else. That’s not justice.”
“I’m afraid that I’m not completely sure what you’re talking about.” Chettle played the game.
“You’re after Juan Lewis. You want to pressure Carlos until he cracks, and then put him on the stand against Lewis. I can see that the cops even thought that Lewis was in the apartment when the raid occurred. My client is innocent. Let him walk away and continue to help others. Let him help people recover from their drug addiction.”
“You must have read a different police report than the one I read because I did
n’t see that piece of information in there anywhere. Could you please point that out to me?”
“It’s about reading between the lines. Of course the police wouldn’t admit to a mistake like that. But that’s who they wanted. They wanted Lewis. My client is an innocent bystander. An innocent man.”
“Your client has a history of drug convictions. He’s not as innocent as you claim he is.”
“Carlos did the time for those crimes, and that was ten years ago. He’s out of the game and clean now. He’s an innocent man, and he’s been clean for years. He helps people; he doesn’t destroy them. He’s dedicated his life to helping others recover from the scourge of drugs.”
“Innocent men don’t get caught with a briefcase full of drugs in their apartment.”
“And innocent cops don’t plant briefcases full of drugs in people’s apartments.”
“Good luck proving that in court, Bill.”
When Chettle saw Bill Harvey’s name on the defendant’s notes, she was delighted. Her months were becoming a boring slog of case after case, charge after charge, late night after late night. To confront a man with Harvey’s reputation in the courtroom invigorated her desire. It recharged her enthusiasm for the law. Today, for their first meeting, she wore her best suit, one that she only bought a week before, and added an extra spray of her best perfume.
It was having the desired effect on her opponent. She could see it in his eyes.
“You have a bigger office than the last time I saw you,” Harvey stated, looking around at the newly renovated space. “I see that you even have your name on the door.”
“My career is on the up and up. I work hard, and I’m getting the rewards for that. The people here respect me, and I’m well-known throughout the department. That’s what happens when you work hard.”
“That must be nice,” he quipped. “Tell me about one of the officers, Detective Matthew Pitt.”
“Pitt? He wasn’t the lead detective on this case.”
“No, but he was present at the time of the raid. According to the police report, four detectives and four officers made the raid. Pitt was one of the detectives. Tell me about him.”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking?”
“Do you trust him?”
“Of course.” Chettle’s brows came together in confusion. “He’s an outstanding officer and a good man. He’s never had a problem. He’s one of the good ones.”
“Do you think he has any links to the case?”
“Other than the raid? No.” Chettle shook her head.
“Nothing that Internal Affairs would know about?”
“No, Bill. Nothing.”
Harvey uncrossed his legs and leaned his elbows on the large mahogany table. The table had been overly polished; so pristine that he could see his reflection in it.
“How about we just drop this case now and save ourselves some time? If you want Lewis, then go after him. Don’t destroy an innocent man’s reputation for the sake of one of his cousins. That’s not what we got into law for. We got into law to uphold justice—and this isn’t justice.”
“This is about justice. Justice for the people on the street. The ones that have had their lives destroyed because of the drugs that are available to them. This is about cleaning up those streets for the children of the future. Carlos López is a drug dealer. He will do time. That’s justice. And you know the deal that is on the table. Your client either provides information and testifies against Lewis, or we charge him.”
“How much information do you need to strike a deal?”
“We need enough information to stop Lewis and his operations. It has to be enough so that we can charge Lewis with a crime that will do prison time. If the drugs belonged to Lewis, then we need your client to state that.”
“You want him to testify in court?”
“That’s right. Without the testimony from Mr. López that the drugs weren’t his and belonged to Juan Lewis, then we cannot let him walk away. That’s the only deal that’s on the table. Nothing else.”
“Doesn’t sound fair.”
“Don’t try and convince yourself that your client is innocent. I can guarantee you that he’s not. He’s not an innocent man. The only reason he spends time volunteering with drug addicts is because he feels guilty for all the pain and suffering he has caused in the past. Having his hands in the drug game hurt people. He hurt families. Destroyed them. He has a history of crime and has spent time behind bars. People don’t change, Bill.”
“People do change.” Harvey’s fist clenched. “Carlos has done his time for the crimes he committed, and it changed him. It changed his perspective. He’s a good man now. And I won’t let a good man go to prison for a crime that he hasn’t committed.”
“Don’t believe the lies. Deep down, Carlos is still a drug dealer. He’s still a criminal. It’s in his blood.”
“No.” Harvey put his hand down heavily on the table, bringing a slight look of surprise from Chettle. “People do change. People redeem themselves. Carlos has done that. He did the wrong thing in the past and now spends his time making it right. He has changed. He has redeemed himself. And he shouldn’t go to prison for something that he didn’t do.”
Chettle leaned back slightly, surprised to see such raw emotion from a man that was usually so measured. “You obviously feel very strongly about this.”
“People can redeem themselves, Shannon.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But if Carlos isn’t going to give us what we want, then we’re going to court.”
“I will defend the innocent.” Standing, Harvey placed his index finger down firmly on the table. “And I will make sure that an innocent man doesn’t go to prison.”
Chapter 12
Slightly hungover, Bill Harvey arrived at the Huntington Park coffee shop thirty minutes before his scheduled meeting.
He sat in a quiet corner, calming his thumping head with two Advil and two large coffees, while turning his thoughts to his case.
The coffee shop was generic in its décor, but edgy in its artwork. A black and white life-sized drawing of a naked woman—clearly the barista—hung on one wall, and a black and white photo of a half-naked man, dressed in a skirt, hung on the other wall. Edgy, but not quite offensive.
The coffee barely tickled Harvey’s taste buds, but the warming liquid eased his throat. With his head down, trawling through emails on his phone, he was caught off guard by the arrival of Juan Lewis.
“Bill Harvey.”
The man that approached was flamboyant in his walk, his clothes perfectly tailored, and he was immaculately groomed. His suit was navy blue, his shirt checkered pink, his tie bright orange. The style of his love heart necklace perfectly matched the three rings on his fingers.
Full of color, flair, and style.
Not what Harvey expected for a known drug dealer in East L.A.
They shook hands solidly; Harvey’s large, strong hand dominating Lewis’. He was sure that Lewis wasn’t dominated very often, but Harvey had to mark his territory. He had to show Lewis that he was the alpha male in this pack, ready to fight for the rights of his client. A strong handshake, a solid stare, and the odd grunt usually position Harvey at the head of the pack.
“How did you recognize me?” Harvey questioned.
“I’ve seen you in the papers.”
His last case received a respectable write-up in all the papers. And a good write-up usually meant more business—but considering crime wasn’t going out of fashion in L.A. any time soon, he wasn’t too concerned about chasing media attention.
“That, and you’re the only non-Mexican male around these parts.”
Ten years ago, Harvey wouldn’t have agreed to meet Lewis in Huntington Park for fear that he would be shot stepping out of his car, but the suburb had improved, and the community had worked hard to create a safer environment for their children.
With a sideways glance out the window, he saw a striking, restored 1960 red Chevy Impala. To d
rive that car around East L.A., his reputation must precede him.
“A 1960 Impala. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Lewis stated proudly, looking out at the car that he had just spent the last hour polishing. He sat at the table with confidence, waving at the barista to make him a coffee. “The car was my father’s before he passed. Now, I take great pride in the beautiful machine.”
Harvey took a moment longer to stare at the work of art sitting on the side of the road.
“How is it that I can help you, Mr. Harvey?” Lewis slowly and confidently leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide and arms relaxed.
“As you’re aware, I’m defending Carlos López in the case of the drug—”
“They planted it.” Lewis shook his hands in the air. “Carlos has been out of the game for a while now, and I would know if he was back in it. They weren’t his drugs. I, of all people, would know if Carlos was dealing, but I can guarantee you that he wasn’t. That man has no connection to dealing anymore. He’s turned over a new leaf, a new life. He’s out of the game. Even if he asked me, I wouldn’t let him deal drugs again. He spends most of his time at the drug rehab center, so there is no way that the drugs were his. The cops planted it.”
“Whether or not the drugs belonged to Carlos isn’t the problem. It’s whether or not we can prove in a court of law that the drugs weren’t his.”
Lewis laughed brashly, loud enough for the people at the counter to turn their heads. “That’s the way with all you law types. Not worried about the facts, just about what happens in accordance with the law. Hardgrave was the same. Always concerned with the letter of the law.”
“Judge Hardgrave?” The surprise was spread across Harvey’s face.
“We were good friends. I hear that you knew him too, and I saw you at his funeral. He was a nice fellow. Old, but nice. A bit arrogant, but he had good connections.”
“What was your relationship like with Hardgrave?”
“He helped me out when I needed it. And in turn, I made sure that he had contact with his long-lost daughter, Michelle. Everyone was a winner in that relationship. It’s amazing what an old man will do to try and erase past sins. You see, he treated Michelle like dirt while she was growing up. He never saw her, he beat her and her mother, he was a drunk; at least that’s what Michelle has told me. But he wanted a second chance with her. He thought he deserved a second chance. And he was willing to do a lot to make sure that he got it.”
Bill Harvey Collection Page 6