A Prosecutor for the Defense (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 4)

by Stephen Penner

  Brunelle listened and knew two things when she’d finished. She meant every word of it, and he didn’t understand any of it. “So you helped her with that dream?”

  She shrugged and picked her tea back up. “I invested in her and her dream. I believe it would have worked out if her husband hadn’t…” But she trailed off.

  “Jeremy,” Brunelle felt compelled to say. “He has a name too.”

  Laura forced a tight smile. “Of course he does. And you’re his lawyer. But Vanessa was my friend.”

  “And business partner?” Sophia confirmed. Brunelle appreciated the attempt to return the conversation to the facts, and to refine those facts.

  “Yes,” Laura replied. “But the business is finished.”

  Brunelle considered a provocative question like, ‘Did her death relieve you of any financial burdens?’ but thought better of it. Her affection for Vanessa seemed genuine. And her affluence was equally obvious. They had come to see whether there was reason to doubt Jeremy’s claim that he’d had to drain the Adonis accounts to pay for Vanessa’s studio. That goal had been accomplished. There was more than enough reason.

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. Mayer,” he said, setting down his tea and standing up. “We appreciate your candor.”

  Sophia stood up as well and Laura showed them out. Once they were down in the lobby, Sophia asked, “Are you going to confront Jeremy about all this?”

  Brunelle shook his head. “No. I’m going to figure out what it all means. I don’t need his lies to get in the way of that.”

  Chapter 17

  Brunelle didn’t visit Jeremy again for several days. He was still trying to figure out how to reconcile what his client had told him with what Overstreet and Laura had told him. Added to the mix was the ethical dilemma he faced, namely that his client had provided him with one hell of a motive for murder. As a prosecutor, he was used to having to hand over every bit of evidence and information to the defense. But as a defense attorney, not only was he not required to disclose adverse information, it would be unethical for him to do so. So it wasn’t really an ethical dilemma. The ethics were clear—the ‘professional ethics’ anyway. But the morals of it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Added to that frustration was the fact that he couldn’t talk to anybody about it. Attorney-client privilege confined his circle of confidants to the defense team, which consisted of him, his lying client, and the most beautiful private investigator in the world.

  So he was in a pissy mood when he called Kat the night before she was flying down again for a week-long visit.

  “Hey, lover,” she purred when the call connected. “Are you ready for a few days off?”

  “I thought I was already on leave,” he replied. He tried to sound light-hearted, but he wasn’t feeling it.

  “Well, a few days off from your leave,” Kat corrected. “I know you’ve been working hard. I’m looking forward to thanking you in person.”

  This was where Brunelle should have flirted back. They couldn’t do anything over the phone of course. There wasn’t an app for that quite yet. But again, he wasn’t feeling it. He was feeling frustrated and irritable, and he couldn’t even tell her why.

  “That’ll be nice,” he managed to say.

  “Nice?” Kat repeated. “Just nice?”

  When Brunelle didn’t reply, she followed up, “Are you okay, David?”

  Brunelle frowned. She couldn’t see it, but he supposed it was in his voice. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long couple of days.”

  “Is the case not going well?” Kat’s concern was understandable, but it just irritated him more. It reminded him he was defending her ex-husband, the father of her kid. Not really what he wanted to think about when she was trying to flirt.

  “It’s going fine,” he insisted unconvincingly.

  Kat was quiet for a few seconds. “You need someone to talk to. I know you can’t talk to me. Can you talk to Matt’s lawyer friend? Is there anyone else you can talk with?”

  Brunelle’s mind went immediately to Sophia Farinelli. It was pleasant, but it just made him feel guilty, and even less in the mood to talk with his girlfriend. He reminded himself that she was the most beautiful medical examiner in the world, but it was little help.

  “No, not really,” he answered. “I guess I just don’t feel like talking at all sometimes.”

  “Like tonight,” Kat said.

  “Yeah,” Brunelle admitted.

  “That’s okay,” Kat replied, cheerful despite Brunelle’s moroseness. “I like it sometimes when you’re quiet. I’ll see if I can’t get you to make some noise tomorrow night.”

  Brunelle had to smile. “Thanks, Kat.”

  “I’m going to hang up now,” she said. “You go pout and get it out of your system. You’re a hell of a lawyer and you’ll figure out whatever’s bothering you.”

  The smile broadened.

  “So I’m going to let this pass,” Kat continued. “Because I’m a hell of a girlfriend and you’re going to have it figured out before I get there. Right?”

  Brunelle nodded. Yep, the most beautiful medical examiner in the world. “Right.”

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, Brunelle didn’t have it figured out yet. But he did have a few hours before Kat’s plane came in. He’d offered to meet her at the gate, but she insisted on taking the hotel shuttle. It wasn’t like he had a car, so why should he pay to go there and back when she could just pay once and meet him at his room? She was a big girl. A big, beautiful girl.

  So what better way for Brunelle to get ready for her arrival than going to grill her ex-husband about all the lies he was feeding him?

  He didn’t beat around the bush when Jeremy sat down across from him.

  “Okay, listen.” Brunelle jabbed a finger at the glass. “Let’s get a few things straight. First of all, I’m only doing this because Kat asked me to. I don’t give a fuck any more whether you’re guilty or innocent. Second, I’m your only hope of not dying in prison. Get that through your thick fucking skull. Third, stop fucking lying to me. Every time I talk to somebody about this case, I learn something new that you lied about. If that happens during the trial, you’re fucked. Not me. You. You are fucked. You are going to prison. And you are going to be somebody’s girlfriend. For the rest of your fucking life. So, either you stop lying to me and start telling me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, or I stop visiting you, I stop talking to witnesses, and I just show up for the trial and see if I can think of any cross examination questions after the prosecutor puts on witness after witness to show how fucking guilty you are of murdering your fucking wife.” Brunelle could feel his heart racing and fists clenching. It had been a long time since he’d let himself get that angry. It kind of felt good. He pointed again at Jeremy. “Understood?”

  Jeremy just stared at him for several long seconds. Then he crossed his arms and leaned back. “Understood.”

  Brunelle exhaled and lowered his accusatory finger. He leaned back in his chair too. “Good.”

  “What do you want to know?” Jeremy asked.

  Brunelle wasn’t sure. He hadn’t made a list. He decided to work backwards. “Who’s Laura Mayer?”

  Jeremy nodded. “What else do you want to know?”

  “How much did you really take out of the accounts and what was it really for? Because Laura Mayer was paying for your wife’s dance studio.”

  “What else?”

  “Was Vanessa having an affair with Overstreet?”

  That one at least produced a wince in the corner of Jeremy’s eye. “Anything else?”

  “Were you having an affair with anyone? Overstreet’s wife? Laura Mayer? Your receptionist?”

  It was Jeremy’s turn to get angry. His chest was starting to heave and although his arms were still crossed, the muscles across his forearms were flexed. “Is that all?”

  “It’s a start,” Brunelle replied.

  Jeremy nodded several times, the
n uncrossed his arms and leaned forward in his chair. “I won’t lie to you, Brunelle. But I’m not going to tell you everything either. Some things I won’t dignify with a response. Others are none of your goddamned business. I’ll tell you this: I didn’t murder my wife. That’s what you need to know. That’s all you need to know. Now, go do your job and get me out of here.”

  Brunelle hadn’t expected that response. He thought his ‘girlfriend’ threat would be sufficient to scare Jeremy into spilling his guts. Apparently he was made of sterner stuff. That was good, because if he kept playing games like that he was definitely going to prison. Still, he was making it impossible for Brunelle to do his job.

  “Why should I,“ he asked, “if you won’t help me?”

  Jeremy smiled. “You said it yourself.”

  Brunelle cocked his head, not understanding.

  “You’re doing this because Kat asked you to,” Jeremy said. “So I guess I’m not the only one who’s fucked after all.”

  *

  “You want to visit him?” Brunelle was stunned. Kat hadn’t been at the hotel for five minutes and she wanted to go visit that jackass in jail? “Right now?”

  Kat put her hands on her hips. She was wearing a beautiful gauzy skirt that hung to her ankles but also let him see her shapely legs underneath. It was accentuated by a tightly fitting linen blouse, unbuttoned one button too far to show off a beautiful gold and pearl necklace. She looked great. He’d thought it was for him. He wasn’t sure any more.

  “Visiting hours are today, David,” she almost scolded. “We talked about this. I flew in on a Wednesday specifically so I could visit him right away and get it over with, then spend the rest of the week focusing on you, and us.”

  Brunelle ran a hand over his face. He did vaguely recall something about that. He recalled wanting to object to it, but being swayed by a purr about ‘focusing on you, and us.’

  He looked at his watch. Visiting hours were just about to start, and would stop in two hours. Maybe they could grab a romantic dinner afterwards. Where do you take a girl who’s just visited her ex-husband in jail?

  “Fine,” he acquiesced. “Let’s go. But I’m going to want a lot of focusing afterwards.”

  Kat laughed and grabbed his arm. “Of course. I want you to tell me everything you’ve learned and how you’re going to win the case.”

  Brunelle sighed. “I’m not sure that’s really focusing on me.”

  Kat looked up at him. “You have one case. Do you really have anything else to talk about?”

  He thought for a moment, then sighed again. “I guess not. That’s kind of depressing.”

  She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. I promise I’ll cheer you up later tonight.”

  And the thought of that cheered him up already.

  *

  She was in there a long time. That’s what it felt like to Brunelle anyway. He knew they had a kid in common. He knew he was facing the very real possibility of going to prison for the rest of his life for a murder he maybe didn’t commit. But really, he was standing right there, waiting in the jail lobby. Couldn’t she cut it short a bit, just to make him feel better?

  He shrugged and sat down on one of the plastic bench chairs. It wasn’t about him, he knew. He just wished it didn’t have to be about Jeremy either. Maybe he could get Westerly to switch sides or something.

  “Naw,” he mumbled aloud as he shook his head lightly. “Kat would never go for that.”

  “I’d never go for what?” she asked, walking over from the visitors’ access door across the lobby.

  “Uh, Chinese food,” Brunelle pulled a response out of the air. “You know, for dinner.”

  Kat cocked her head at him. “I love Chinese. You know that. I’ve been looking forward to San Francisco Chinese food for the last month.”

  He stood up and clapped his hands. “All right then. It’s settled. Chinese. Great. Okay. Let’s go.”

  Kat reached out and took his hand. “You okay?”

  Brunelle shrugged. “Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “This defense attorney thing is hard. No one wants to help you.”

  She squeezed back. “I do.”

  He smiled and looked into her eyes. “I know. That’s the only reason I’m doing it.”

  She smiled back. “I know too. Thanks.”

  And suddenly he wasn’t mad any more.

  She pulled him toward the exit. “Let’s grab an early dinner.”

  He definitely wasn’t mad any more.

  *

  Dinner was a little awkward. He couldn’t really talk about the case. Just procedural things. The upcoming trial date. The status conference. The pretrial on Friday and how useless it was since Jeremy wouldn’t take any deals anyway. But no details. Kat wasn’t part of the defense team, so he couldn’t tell her about the accounts, or Overstreet, or how Vanessa danced with joy in her soles or whatever. She didn’t seem to mind and they sent most of dinner talking about her work, and Lizzy’s latest crush. He was in a band.

  “Teenagers,” Brunelle muttered, which only made them both laugh at him for sounding like such an old curmudgeon. By the time dinner was finished, he was in a better mood and was pretty much over his girlfriend delaying the best part of their reunion until after she spoke with her ex-husband, the lying murderer.

  Then Kat delayed it further by insisting on a walk along the beach as the sun was setting. He really needed to get her back to his hotel room. It had been way too long. Spending weeks looking at Kylie, Barbie, and Sophia hadn’t helped any either.

  So he was very pleasantly surprised when the sun set in earnest and right there, in the middle of the darkened beach, Kat twisted her fingers into his shirt and fell backward onto the sand, pulling him down on top of her. He was so focused on, first, trying to keep his balance, then second, not smashing his head onto hers, that she was able to grab his hips and position him in exactly the right place. He was rising quickly against her, and she let out a low moan as she pushed her hips up to him.

  “Right here?” he said. “On the beach?”

  “God yes,” she panted in his ear, grabbing the lobe between her teeth.

  “What about the sand?”

  “I don’t care about the sand, David,” she growled. “It’s been too long. I don’t care if I get sand in every body cavity I have, as long as you’re inside me too.”

  It had been too long. It wasn’t what he’d imagined over the last few days—that had involved the hotel bed …and the shower …and the balcony. But he wasn’t going to complain. And he wasn’t going to last long either. There’d be time enough for the bed and shower and balcony later that night.

  He slid Kat’s gauzy skirt up over her hips and finally felt confident she’d worn it for him.

  “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I missed you too.” She tipped her head back and arched her back. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

  Chapter 19

  The next day was almost as perfect as the night before. Brunelle took a vacation from the case and he and Kat spent the day touring the city. Downtown. The Presidio. They skipped Alcatraz though.

  It was back to work on Friday. There was a second pretrial conference, the last court date before the status conference scheduled a week before the trial. The good news was that there wasn’t much to do at the pretrial. Pretrials were for negotiations, but Jeremy had said no deals, and Brunelle didn’t expect Westerly to improve his offer anyway.

  Turns out he was wrong.

  “Manslaughter One and Arson One,” Westerly offered right out of the box. He handed Brunelle a formal offer sheet with the details reduced to writing. “Ten years. It’s a hell of a deal. Your guy is crazy if he rejects it.”

  My guy is an asshole if he rejects it, Brunelle thought. He’s an asshole anyway.

  The offer was good. Too good. Westerly had found a problem in his case.

  Brunelle appraised the offer sheet, debating whether to call Westerly on
it. He couldn’t think of a good reason not to. “This offer is too good, Jim. Why? If there’s a problem with your case, you have to tell me under the discovery rules.”

  Brunelle wasn’t entirely sure about that last part. It was generally true that prosecutors had to hand over any evidence that tended to show the defendant might be innocent, or that the prosecution’s witnesses might be liars, but if it was just a general fear that some the witnesses might not show up, that probably didn’t have to be disclosed. But this wasn’t a gangland shooting with uncooperative witnesses, or a domestic violence case with a recanting victim. The witnesses were professionals and respectable citizens. They’d honor their subpoenas. No, Brunelle had read every page of the police reports. It was a circumstantial case, but the circumstantial evidence was pretty good. Too good to knock a Murder One down to a Manslaughter.

  Westerly shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with my case, Dave. I’ve just been thinking about what you said at the last pretrial. Your guy is sympathetic. He has no history and isn’t likely to do this again. All you need is one juror who buys his ‘I don’t know what happened’ defense and the jury will hang. More likely, that one juror negotiates the verdict down from murder to manslaughter. So let’s save some time and do that up front. I can get on to my other cases and you can get back to Seattle.”

  Brunelle frowned and looked down at the offer again. It was a hell of an offer. But Jeremy was a hell of an asshole.

  “I’ll talk to him,” Brunelle said. “But just so you know, he’s told me no deals, so you better send out your subpoenas.”

  *

  Brunelle didn’t go immediately to the jail. He stopped by the library first. Not because he needed to check anything out. He needed a printer. When he got to the jail and Jeremy was brought to the consultation rom, Brunelle was armed with what his defense attorney friends affectionately called a ‘C.Y.A. letter.’

  “More lectures?” Jeremy asked as he sat down across from Brunelle.

  Brunelle shook his head. “Nope. Got a new offer from the prosecutor. I’m here to communicate it.”