by Paul Bishop
"And we've still got a rape and a murder," Fey agreed reluctantly, seeing the point.
"And Vandermere is still elected to take the fall," Crow concluded.
"For the rape anyway," Fey said.
"What?" Crow asked. "Now, you think somebody else committed the murder. For Heaven's sake, who?"
"The woman scorned," Fey said.
"Janet Kent? You must be kidding?"
Arlene Lancaster and Whip Whitman stood next to Fey's desk in the squad room. Fey was flipping through files.
"I knew all along this case was too easy," Fey said. "But would anybody listen to me?"
"Do you have anything at all to tie Kent to the murder?" Arlene asked.
Fey held up a sheaf of papers in triumph. "Maybe," she said. "This is the surveillance log from the team that was staking out Kent's residence. When they spotted Vandermere, they called us in, but it took us a while to get there and get organized."
Fey handed the log to Arlene, who began thumbing through it.
"And?" Arlene asked, not immediately seeing the significance.
"Look at the last page," Fey said. "Guess who arrived thirty minutes after Vandermere."
Arlene stared at the page. "Janet Kent."
"She could have followed Vandermere to Anna Havilland and murdered her after he left," Fey suggested. "Setting Vandermere up to take a murder rap in revenge for cheating on her."
"Pretty sick," Arlene said. "Murder the rape victim to punish the rapist."
"In her warped mind, she could have decided Havilland led Vandermere on," Whitman said. Fey never ceased to amaze him with the convolutions of the cases she became involved in.
Arlene nodded. "So, you're saying Kent blamed Havilland for luring Vandermere back into his known pattern of behavior?"
"Stranger things have happened," Fey said.
Crow suddenly entered the squad room, waving a file folder.
"Bingo," he said as he approached the gathering.
"You got something?" Whitman asked.
"Latents compared Janet Kent's prints to all unidentified prints from the crime scene, and they matched ten points on two prints as belonging to Kent."
"We need sixteen matching points for court," Arlene said.
"But you only need eight points to actually identify somebody. With ten points, we may not be able to go to court, but we know the prints belong to Kent."
"So you've only got half a bingo," Whitman said. "No sixteen points, no court."
"Still," Fey said. "Coupled with the surveillance log, we've got enough probable cause to haul Kent in."
Arlene smiled. "Sounds as if she's going to need a good lawyer."
Outside of the courtroom the following day, Arlene Lancaster approached Gerald Shultz. She matched him stride for stride as they walked.
"Busy day?" she asked.
"I've been like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," Shultz said.
"Did Kent and Vandermere come to you as a package?" Arlene asked.
"She brought the case to me," Shultz said. "But she wanted to stay involved because of the civil side."
"Her personal relationship with Vandermere causing you problems?"
Shultz stopped walking. "Where is this leading?"
"Humor me," Arlene said.
Shultz shrugged. "Okay, Kent's in love with the guy. Actually, obsessed would be a better word. I don't see it myself, but I guess the guy's got something."
"Is she advising Vandermere to fight the murder charge, even with all the evidence stacked against him?"
"Despite his record," Shultz said, "she refuses to even consider Vandermere might be guilty."
"What does he say?"
"He's not admitting to the murder if that's what you mean."
"What about you?" Arlene asked.
Shultz looked at her evenly. "Don't get me wrong, counselor. I do my best for my clients. But if it were up to me, I'd plead the bastard out and move on."
"What if I told you he didn't murder Havilland?"
"If not him, then who?"
"Kent."
Shultz's eyes widened in surprise.
Arlene sat in Owen Overmars' office discussing the case with Overmars and Groom.
"Shultz doesn't like the courtroom. He's a deal maker. He'll get Vandermere to testify against Kent in return for an offer on the rape charge."
"Did Vandermere know or suspect Kent killed Havilland?" Overmars asked.
"No," Arlene said. "But with hindsight, he's able to fill in a lot of the blanks."
"What does Shultz want on the rape?" Groom asked.
"Felony sexual battery—three to five, no strike."
"He's kidding, right?" Overmars was scornful. "Vandermere is a twice-convicted rapist."
"The question was what does Shultz want, not what will he settle for."
"Okay," Overmars said. "So, what will he settle for?"
Arlene tilted her head slightly in thought. "One count of rape. Vandermere serves eighty-five percent of a twelve-year sentence."
"What about the third strike problem?" Groom asked.
"Retrospective record amendment," Arlene said. "Change the first rape conviction to sexual battery."
Overmars fiddled with a cold pipe. "That makes this case only a second strike. It's a good deal for him."
"It's only worth it if Vandermere can make our case," Groom said.
"I'm holding the third strike over his head," Arlene said. "We don't get Kent—Vandermere doesn't get his record amended. He strikes out and gets life."
Overmars set his pipe down on his desk. "Make sure you don't open the door for Kent's defense to bring in Vandermere's record. You're also going to have trouble with the fingerprint evidence."
"Court wouldn't be fun without a challenge," Arlene said.
"Kent say anything to Croaker when she was arrested?"
"Nothing you could repeat in church. She lawyered up immediately."
"Who?" Groom asked.
"Bernie Easterbrook."
"He's a heavy hitter. He'll fight you right from the preliminary hearing."
"That's why I want to avoid it. I want to take the case to the grand jury, get an indictment, and go straight to trial."
Arlene Lancaster had checked her new suit several times before going into court. The skirt was long enough not to offend the women on the jury but short enough to give the men a glance at her nicely shaped legs. The white blouse under the well-cut jacket was tight across the bust but revealed no cleavage. Some days it pissed her off that she had to be more worried about how she looked than how strong of a case she could present, but juries were notorious for turning against the evidence based on their like or dislike of either attorney.
Fey had also dressed carefully as she was to sit next to Lancaster as the investigating officer in the case. Her role was more supportive at this point. The investigation was over.
The courtroom was Lancaster's playground.
Officer Jim Breland was on the stand being questioned by Arlene. He was young and wore a hip suit, which would have looked better at a nightclub. On the bench, Judge Julia Faversham presided over the proceedings from behind heavily hooded eyes.
"Officer Breland, what is your occupation and assignment?"
"I'm a police officer assigned to LAPD's Special Intelligence Services' surveillance unit."
"On the day Anna Havilland was murdered, were you surveilling the defendant's residence?"
"Yes."
"Previous testimony by the coroner has established the time of Anna Havilland's death as approximately four p.m. Please tell us what your log shows happening at five-thirty."
Breland briefly checked the notes on the counter in front of him.
"The subject identified as Rafe Vandermere approached the door of the residence on foot and entered through the rear door."
"Was there anything strange about his appearance?" Arlene asked.
"Several prominent scratches on his right cheek were not
ed."
"Now, please tell us what your log notes reflect for six p.m."
"The defendant, Janet Kent, parked her car in front of the residence and entered through the front door using a key."
"Anything unusual about her appearance?"
"She appeared upset and disheveled."
"Objection!" Bernie Easterbrook had risen to his feet to earn his fee. He was solid and senatorial. His mass of silver hair set off with piercing green eyes drew many a younger woman to him. "Calls for speculation."
"Sustained." Judge Faversham waved a hand slightly from her position on the bench.
"Prior to six p.m.," Arlene continued, "did you see the defendant at the residence?"
"We saw her leave shortly before noon. We didn't see her again until she returned at six."
"No further questions," Arlene said. She walked around the edge of the prosecution desk holding the original SIS surveillance log. "We would ask that the surveillance log be marked as people's seven."
"So marked," Faversham said, as Arlene handed the log to the court clerk.
Arlene sat down and whispered to Fey, "I miss anything?"
"Not so far," Fey told her. She then sat back as Bernie Easterbrook rose for cross-examination.
"Officer Breland, is there anything unusual in somebody leaving their house at noon and not returning until six?" Bernie's voice was full and measured.
"I guess not," Breland said.
"Did you ever see Ms. Kent anywhere else? At the market? The mall?"
"No."
"Have you ever seen Ms. Kent anywhere even remotely close to Anna Havilland's residence?"
"No."
Bernie smiled. "No further questions."
Arlene called latent print technician June Sweetwater as her next witness. After establishing Sweetwater's credentials and expertise, Arlene got quickly to the point.
"How many latent prints did you recover from the scene of the murder?"
"Twenty-seven," Sweetwater reported.
"How many of those were positively identified?"
"Fifteen."
"At some point, did you compare the remaining unidentified prints to the defendant's fingerprints?"
"Objection!" Easterbrook was on his feet again. "The prosecution is attempting to force in evidence that may be unfairly prejudicial to my client by its nature."
Judge Faversham's heavy eyelids moved a fraction upward. "Ms. Lancaster?"
"I'm simply trying to establish possibilities, your honor."
"We'll take a fifteen-minute recess," Faversham said, with a bang of her gavel. "Counselors, my office."
Inside Faversham's chambers, Arlene Lancaster and Bennie Easterbrook sat in uncomfortable, straight-back chairs.
Easterbrook was elucidating his objection. "To serve as identifying evidence in a criminal matter, a fingerprint must have sixteen points of identification."
"Do you have sixteen points, Ms. Lancaster?" the judge asked.
"No," Arlene said. "Only ten, which is two more than needed in a civil case."
"It's still six points short for criminal proceedings," Faversham pointed out.
"Two of the recovered prints each matched ten points with those of the defendant," Arlene explained. "The matching points of the two prints, however, are different. Combined, the two prints match seventeen points with the defendant."
Easterbrook snorted. "Seventeen points from two prints does not equal sixteen matching points from one print."
"He's right," Faversham said. "You don't have criminal ID from either singular print."
"I'm not trying to get a positive ID," Arlene said. "I simply want to show the possibility that the prints could belong to the defendant."
Easterbrook disagreed. "They could also come from somebody else. It's prejudicial to allow the comparison testimony."
"There are precedents for allowing the admission of partial prints in both Hays-versus-California, and Denniston-versus-Ohio," Arlene pointed out.
"Denniston was overturned on appeal," Easterbrook said.
"Yes," Arlene agreed, "but not on the print evidence."
"Both of you settle down," Faversham said. "I understand your feelings, Mr. Easterbrook, but I'm familiar with Ms. Lancaster's cites. As long as she doesn't claim positive ID, you can argue the significance of the ten points with the jury."
Back in the courtroom, Arlene started in again with June Sweetwater.
"Did you compare the defendant's fingerprints to the twelve unidentified latents from the crime scene?"
"Yes."
"And what did you determine?"
"Two of the twelve unidentified prints had ten matching points of identification with the defendant's prints."
"Not enough for a criminal ID?" Arlene asked, trying to steal Easterbrook's thunder.
"No," Sweetwater agreed.
"But enough for a civil identification?"
"Objection!" Easterbrook was on his feet again.
"Sustained," Judge Faversham said. "You're dangerously close to the edge, Ms. Lancaster."
"No further questions," Arlene said. She sat down quickly and gave Fey a smile.
Easterbrook had remained standing. He began his cross-examination.
"Isn't it true you need sixteen matching points to positively identify a print in a criminal case?"
"Yes," Sweetwater replied, unruffled. She had testified in hundreds of other cases.
"So," Easterbrook said. "Ten points doesn't cut it?"
"The odds—" Sweetwater began.
Easterbrook interrupted quickly. "Your honor, the question calls for a yes or no response."
"Answer yes or no," Faversham directed the witness.
"No," Sweetwater said sourly.
Easterbrook smiled. "Therefore, the two prints with the ten matching points of identification are worthless for identification in this courtroom, aren't they?"
"Correct." Sweetwater sighed. She'd seen this coming.
"You can't prove they belong to my client, can you?"
"No."
"As far as this court is concerned, they could belong to anyone?"
"Yes."
"No further questions," Easterbrook said and sat down.
"Any re-cross?" Faversham asked.
"No, your honor," Arlene said.
"Then call your next witness."
Arlene put Rafe Vandermere on the stand. This was make-it-or-break-it time. From her seat at the prosecution counsel’s table, Fey turned to look at Janet Kent. She was pleased to see her previously calm exterior beginning to wear around the edges. Kent was looking anywhere except at Vandermere. She was uncomfortable and agitated. Maybe we're getting somewhere, Fey thought.
"During the time you lived with Janet Kent, were you ever unfaithful to her?" Arlene asked Vandermere.
"Sure," he replied in his cocky manner.
"And was she aware of these wanderings?"
"Objection!" Easterbrook broke in. "Calls for speculation."
"Sustained," the judge agreed.
"Did the defendant ever accuse you of being unfaithful?" Arlene restated her question.
"She accused me of screwing anything that would hold still long enough, and we'd fight about it. She'd threaten to kill me and whoever I was screwing."
Fey saw Janet Kent start to stand. She was immediately restrained by Easterbrook and subsided back into her chair.
"What else did the defendant do as a result of her accusations?" Arlene continued.
"She started to follow me," Vandermere said. "I'd lose her if I had something going on the side, but it just caused more arguments."
"What happened when Anna Havilland made accusations against you?"
"I went to confront her."
"Did you see the defendant following you?"
"Yeah, but I didn't care. I wasn't going over there to fool around. I wanted to get the Havilland bitch off my back."
"Was Anna Havilland alive when you left her?"
"Absolutely."
Vandermere nodded. "She was sitting in her car, which was parked across the street."
"Why did you live with the defendant if you felt the need for other women?"
"She was paying the bills."
Vandermere smirked at Janet Kent, making the woman squirm in her seat. Fey could see Kent was on the boil.
"That's not very honorable," Arlene said to Vandermere.
"She knew I was a scorpion when she met me," Vandermere said.
"What does that mean?"
"You know. The story about the scorpion who convinces the frog to give him a ride across the pond?"
"Enlighten us."
"The frog refuses, saying the scorpion will sting him. The scorpion promises he won't. Finally, the frog agrees, but halfway across the pond, the scorpion stings the frog. As they're both dying, the frog asks the scorpion why. The scorpion says, 'You knew I was a scorpion when you gave me the ride—you knew I would sting you.' It was the frog's fault, not the scorpion's," Vandermere concluded.
Janet Kent jumped up from her chair, out of control.
"I loved you, you bastard!" she screamed. "But you couldn't keep it in your pants!"
Judge Faversham began banging her gavel in earnest as the courtroom erupted.
Bernie Easterbrook was sitting in Owen Overmars’ office with Fey, Arlene Lancaster, Overmars, and Winchell Groom.
"You don't play fair, Ms. Lancaster," Bernie said. "You worked my client over deliberately."
"My heart bleeds," Arlene said.
"It doesn't matter what her provocation," Owen Overmars stepped in. "Janet Kent is guilty of murder."
"We'll plead to man-two."
"No way," Overmars said. "Murder-one. No special circs."
Easterbrook shook his head. "You don't want this to go to a jury. Premeditation isn't even in the ballpark. Manslaughter-one. Eight years."
"Murder-two," Overmars shot back. "Twelve to fifteen."
"I can sell ten to twelve," Easterbrook said.
Overmars glanced up at Fey and Arlene. They both nodded agreement.
"Deal," Overmars said.
After Easterbrook left, Arlene and Fey walked out together toward the elevator.
"We got away with one," Fey said.
"Sometimes, you have to take your chances," Arlene agreed.