Hounded

by David Rosenfelt

  Blackman was of course very pleased with the progress that Mathis reported, and they planned a slow rollout of the drug, starting in major markets, and expanding into smaller ones. International would come later, once it was established in the U.S. The rollout was at least a year away, since more testing was necessary.

  Mathis had one concern, which was that the drug could have human application. Many human drugs are also widely used by veterinarians, especially antibiotics and pain medications. The only difference in production is that the composition of animal meds is not required to be as precise.

  But this drug was different. Human euthanasia has always been a hotly debated topic among medical professionals, bioethicists, etc. This drug would make suicide much easier to accomplish, and therefore could create controversy. Mathis discussed it with Blackman, and they agreed that they would have to get their legal ducks in a row before moving forward. It was another reason that the rollout would not be commenced quickly.

  Once the first phase of testing was completed, even the limited production of the drug was halted. There were seventeen pills remaining unused, and Mathis considered destroying them, but was advised by his legal team that he should keep them secure in his office.

  And then came that horrible day, almost a year ago, when he discovered that they were gone, along with the records of his work. He went straight to Blackman, and they agonized over what to do. Blackman thought that he might be mistaken, that the pills could have been destroyed. Or more likely, the pills and records were misplaced, and would turn up later.

  Also, Blackman pointed out with some accuracy, they could not be sure the drug would work the same way on humans as on animals. Not all drugs did, and certainly no human tests had been conducted. Perhaps the natural compounds would be harmless to humans. Mathis was positive that his drug would be equally lethal in humans, as it was in animals, but Blackman was not convinced.

  Mathis went along with the ultimate decision not to say anything. He believed it to be a business decision; if the worst happened and these pills fell into human hands, the revelation of the company as the source could provoke lawsuits large enough to destroy the company ten times over.

  So Mathis did and said nothing.

  Except worry.

  Emails have ruined my life.

  Okay, that may be an exaggeration. Maybe they haven’t ruined it entirely, but they’ve certainly had a very negative effect on it.

  First of all, they control me. My computer beeps whenever I receive an email, and I am incapable of ignoring it. I can’t help but going over and checking it out, despite the ninety-nine percent probability that it’s going to be of no interest to me.

  Sometimes it’s a banker in Nigeria, trying to figure out a way to get me eight million dollars, or it’s a company trying to sell me something, or it’s my bank or credit card company telling me my statement is available for viewing.

  Those things are uninteresting, but much preferable to the emails from people I know. Those are the ones that have caused a complete overhaul in my entire social structure.

  Prior to emailing, my relationships were built on leaving messages on people’s phone machines, and having them leave messages on mine. That way we could stay in touch, without ever having to actually interact.

  But email messages are different. They have actual content, with questions that require answers. Often they send me links to long articles, or seemingly endless videos, which I feel an obligation to read and watch.

  Even though it seems technology driven, all of this has the effect of adding depth to relationships, or at least it does to mine. Unfortunately, I’m not a big fan of depth in relationships; I like to keep my friends in the shallow end of the pool.

  Then there are the acronyms, collections of letters that I never understand, but that apparently represent words too long to type out. My least favorite is LOL, which I have come to understand means “laugh out loud.”

  I used to think the emailer was instructing me to “laugh out loud,” which struck me as rather arrogant. But I was then informed that it means they are laughing out loud as they type. Somehow I have trouble picturing that, because I have never actually read anything remotely funny that was followed by an LOL.

  This morning I am extra vigilant listening for the email sound, because I want to know everything that Pete knows about Danny Diaz. And it shows up bright and early; I guess wearing an ankle monitoring bracelet promotes a strong work ethic.

  According to Pete, Danny Diaz had a rough life. He grew up in Paterson’s inner city, raised by his mother, who Pete believes was in this country illegally. Danny’s father was not in the picture, and he had no siblings, so Danny was left alone when his mother died in a car accident.

  The seven-year-old Danny was bounced around through the system, in various foster situations, and once he turned eighteen set out fending for himself. Not trained in any vocation, he did mostly odd jobs, and it was a struggle to get by.

  Danny married Sophia, but she died in childbirth, leaving him to take care of their newborn son, Ricky. At that point, his lack of money took on a far greater importance. He began to discover that some of his friends, who were working somewhat outside the confines of the justice system, were finding food and shelter easier to come by.

  Danny eventually went that route as well, and after a couple of years wound up as a low-level employee in the Dominic Petrone crime family. He was mostly doing collections from people who found themselves in the unenviable position of owing Petrone money. Apparently, he was noticed and liked by higher-ups, though it was unlikely that he came to the attention of Petrone himself.

  Collections aren’t always the smoothest part of that kind of operation, and Danny committed and was arrested for an assault on a resistant client. The arrest was made by Pete Stanton, and during the investigation Pete had occasion to meet Ricky.

  He also took a liking to Danny, and felt empathy for him in his situation. So he went out on a limb, pulled some strings with a friendly and understanding prosecutor, and got Danny a six-month sentence, followed by probation. Part of the deal, in addition to Danny “going straight,” was that he would function as an informant, should he become aware of criminal activities.

  No one believed for a second that Danny would inform on anyone in the Petrone family; to do so would be akin to jumping from a plane without a parachute. And Danny had to be extra concerned with self-preservation, as he remarried, this time to Juanita, thereby growing his family even more.

  It was not a perfect union from the beginning. Pete first became aware of trouble in Danny and Juanita’s marriage about six months ago, which was about four years after Danny got out of prison. It eventually culminated in Juanita abruptly leaving. Danny did not talk about it to Pete, but Pete suspected she was using drugs.

  Danny did openly express a hope and belief that Juanita would come back. But as far as Pete knows, she never contacted Danny or Ricky, and he has no idea where she is now.

  Pete was not Danny’s contact if he had information to provide, and his sense was that Danny did not have much of it, since he had taken a job as an apprentice in an auto body shop.

  Why Danny would have informed on Pete is not something that Pete has knowledge about, but he assumes that Danny was under intolerable pressure from some outside force to do so. I find Pete’s forgiveness and understanding of Danny’s actions to be remarkable, even if that forgiveness and understanding are posthumous.

  Laurie comes in and reads the email, and her initial reaction concerns Ricky and his future. “Is anyone trying to find his stepmother?”

  “I don’t know; I’ll ask Pete’s friend at Children’s Social Services. But it shouldn’t be hard if she wants to be found.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The murder has made national news, and that’s only going to increase as the trial begins. She’ll either see it, if she hasn’t already, or someone will tell her about it.”

  “I know she’s not h
is biological mother, but I still don’t understand how she could leave that child.”

  I don’t know the answer to that, so I don’t try and come up with one. My unexpressed view is that if she’d walked out on him, maybe it would be in his interest for her not to come back. If he gets adopted, he at least can be sure that the adopted parents want him.

  Instead I steer the conversation back to the information about Diaz. “The good news is that he was working for Dominic Petrone, and the bad news is that he was working for Dominic Petrone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, his connection to them means that he was involved with some rather dangerous individuals, which gives us a lot of people to point to as possible guilty parties. If he was hanging out in a convent with a bunch of nuns, our options would be more limited. This goes toward reasonable doubt.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not a big fan of antagonizing people who carry guns and swear a lot.”

  “Now that you mention it, I think I have noticed that. You’d be tougher on the nuns?”

  “As a general rule, anyone whose first name is ‘Sister’ better not mess with me.”

  There was no eyewitness to the murder of Danny Diaz.

  That in itself is certainly not unusual. Murderers generally like to commit them when no one is watching. Pretty much the only people they are okay with witnessing the act are the victims, who generally don’t talk much about it.

  It’s also not very important. Eyewitness testimony can be unreliable and subject to impeachment by brilliant cross-examiners like yours truly. Forensic evidence is generally much more significant, and much more reliable in court. I have never yet gotten a strand of DNA to tearfully break down on the stand and admit that it lied, or even that it might be mistaken.

  One of the key things for the prosecution to prove is that the defendant had the ability to commit the crime, with a central aspect being proximity. That is why Laurie and I have come back to Diaz’s neighborhood to interview Stanley Wilson.

  Wilson was in the house diagonally across the street from Diaz’s, and he gave a statement to the police in which he said he heard gunfire, then went outside to investigate. He said that he saw Pete leaving the Diaz house, with the door open behind him. He said that Pete went to his car, which was parked in front of the house, but Pete did not drive away. Within a few minutes, the area was swarming with police cars.

  Laurie said that when she called Wilson, he actually seemed eager to talk to us. That in itself is pretty unusual; prosecution witnesses generally are wary of defense counsel, often because the prosecutors tell them to be. Either Richard never had that conversation with him, or for whatever reason, he’s choosing to ignore it.

  Wilson greets us with a big smile at the door and invites us in. The house is well kept, though the furniture is old and worn. Knickknacks and plastic flowers don’t do much to warm up the room, but it’s clear the effort has been made.

  I ask him if he minds if we record the conversation, telling him that it keeps me from having to take notes, which I find a major pain. He seems understanding and says “no problem,” and I then get him to repeat the permission once Laurie turns on the recorder.

  “How long have you lived here, Mr. Wilson?” Laurie asks.

  “Oh, I don’t. This is my girlfriend’s place.”

  “But you were staying here the night of the murder?” I ask.

  “Yeah, you know how it is.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about, and not inclined to ask. “Was your girlfriend home that night at the time you heard the shots?”

  “Nah, she had the night shift; she’s a nurse at the hospital.”

  “So what were you doing when you heard them?” Laurie asks.

  “I was sacked out. They woke me up.”

  “Where were you sleeping?”

  “In bed … in the bedroom.”

  I ask him where the bedroom is, and he says that it is upstairs, toward the back of the house.

  I don’t see an air conditioner in the window, so I say, “Must be hot up there.”

  He smiles. “You got that right. That’s why when I sleep, it’s just me and nothing else, you know? Cooler that way.”

  We take him through the events of that night, and he pretty much sticks to the script that he had given the police. When he’s finished, I ask, “So you heard the shots and went right outside to see what was going on?”

  “Sure. I figured somebody might be hurt, or in trouble.”

  “You could tell they were gunshots, and not a car backfiring or something?” I ask. I have to admit, I’ve never heard an actual car backfiring; it may just be a myth, or a movie conceit.

  “Hey, I know a gunshot when I hear it.”

  “You weren’t afraid?” Laurie asks.

  He smiles proudly. “No way.”

  We thank Wilson for his time and leave. We have plenty we can use against him in cross-examination, but at its core his testimony is accurate. Pete did leave Diaz’s house that night, with the door open behind him, and go to his car.

  The question is when, and that is the only question that matters.

  “When is my stepmom coming back?”

  As a lawyer, I ask a lot of questions, and almost as many are asked of me, but this one immediately goes to the top of my most hated questions list.

  Laurie is at the market, and Ricky and I are having breakfast. We’re having Frosted Flakes; I have found that I can use Ricky as cover to eat sugary stuff that Laurie generally considers unhealthy. The question has come out of left field; I had been talking to Ricky about baseball.

  I don’t have any idea when or if his stepmother might be coming back, or how I should respond, so I lamely say, “I’m not sure, Ricky.”

  “Where is she?” he asks, demonstrating that his ability to ask an awful question wasn’t a one-shot fluke.

  “I don’t know yet, but people are looking for her.” I’m going to have to do the grocery shopping from now on; I can’t have Laurie leaving me like this.

  “Daddy said we were going to see her.”

  “He did?”

  “Yup.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “The same day I came here. Can I have more cereal?”

  His changing the subject to cereal is a mixed blessing. It may well get me off this conversational hook, but it makes it harder for me to get information. I decide to back off for now, and I pour him the cereal. I also make a mental note to look into what is happening regarding the search for his mother.

  Hike comes over, and it is a sign of how uncomfortable the conversation with Ricky has been that I’d rather talk to Hike. I give Ricky some more cereal, and he takes it into the den to eat it in front of the television. I know it’s not the best thing to do, but he sees me eat while watching baseball all the time, so it’s hard for me not to allow him the same privilege.

  “I’ve got bad news” is how Hike starts the conversation. Actually, it’s how he starts pretty much every conversation; it’s his default position. He believes that the absence of bad news is a sign that terrible news is right around the corner.

  “What might that be?”

  “Wallace has filed drug charges against Pete.”

  This was so thoroughly expected as to not be news at all. Wallace needs the drug evidence to build his motive case, since Diaz informed on him for drug dealing. Without the charge, the mere presence of drugs in Pete’s house might not have been admissible, since it in no way proves that he committed the murder. Adding the drug charge takes the decision out of the judge’s hands.

  “Has he turned over discovery yet?”

  Hike nods. “Yeah. It’s only the drugs found in the house. No customers, nothing showing a way he might’ve gotten the stuff, nothing like that.”

  “Good. Our position is that it was planted there at some point after Pete was arrested. Let’s find out when the house was locked down by t
he police.”

  “Will do.”

  Once Hike leaves, I settle down to read the lists that both Pete and Phillips prepared for me, detailing all the possible enemies that Pete might have, based on past and present cases. Marcus and Laurie have been checking out each of them, and they’ve prepared reports on each case for me to go over as well.

  There are a few new reports, but basically I’m rereading documents for the third time. That is standard procedure for me when preparing a case, and I do it for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I need to know all the facts of a case completely cold, so that I can call upon that knowledge in the moment in court.

  There are only a few situations that are not on both lists, and one of them on Pete’s list strikes me this time as worth a special look. It’s actually the death of a prominent businessman, apparently of natural causes. It interests me because it was not classified as suspicious by the police or coroner, and therefore should not have required Pete’s continued attention.

  The other reason it stands out is that the victim was wealthy, and the people that set Pete up spent considerable resources to do so. It’s a thin strand to make that connection, but we don’t have many thicker strands to go by.

  By this time Laurie is already in bed reading, and I am sitting in the den, having been going over the casework all day. In my view, that is not the natural order of things, so I head for the bedroom. To my horror, she has fallen asleep while reading. That leaves me with two options: waking her up while pretending I was not trying to, or letting her sleep.

  I delay the decision, and head to Ricky’s room to make sure he’s okay. He’s also asleep, which is no great surprise, and Sebastian has crawled into his unpacked suitcase, which Ricky must have brought over to give Sebastian a comfortable place to sleep.

  It’s adorable. Not Tara-adorable, but right up there.

  It actually reminds me of how I was when I was a kid. We had a dog named Terry, a Lab mix that Tara is sort of named after. It’s a cliché to say a dog is a best friend, but Terry was my best friend, and we were devoted to each other.