Murder One bk-10

by William Bernhardt

  “Plus,” Christina added, “the jury needs to hear it from you. They need to hear you say that you did not kill Joe. Thanks to Andrea’s testimony, this case has become a sort of showdown between her and you. The jury can only believe one of you; they have to choose. They heard Andrea say that you killed Joe, and like it or not, she was convincing. You need to be equally convincing. Or more so.”

  “But what about the cross-examination?” Keri asked. Her eyes looked frightened. Ben had to remind himself how young Keri was—how terrifying and unfamiliar this must be to her. “I hate that man—LaBelle. He’ll start asking me questions. Things I don’t know. He’ll try to trick me.”

  “Yes,” Ben agreed, “he will. No doubt about it—there’s risk involved. But I think we should take the risk. I think we have to.”

  The conference room fell silent for a moment. Keri looked down, elbows on the table, hands pressed against the sides of her head.

  “I know what you think,” she said finally. “You think if I don’t testify, they’ll convict me. You think they’ll sentence me to death.”

  Ben could not make eye contact with her. “It’s a possibility,” he said quietly. “A very real possibility.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry to both of you. But I can’t. I won’t.”

  Christina reached out. “Keri, think about this before—”

  “You heard what I said. I won’t do it. I’ve told you that all along, and nothing has changed.”

  “But Keri—why?”

  “I just—I don’t—” She turned away. “I can’t explain. But I can’t testify. I won’t.”

  Christina pushed away from the table and started pacing around the room. “I don’t get this at all. Why can’t you testify, if you—you—”

  “If you’re innocent?” Keri said sharply. “Because you don’t think I am, do you? You never did. Ben believes me, but you don’t. You think I killed Joe.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Ben tried to wedge himself between them. “Keri, I’m sure Christina didn’t mean that.”

  “She did.”

  “But it is frustrating. If you didn’t do it, why not tell the jury that? Why can’t you testify?”

  “I’m tired of talking about this,” Keri said. For the first time, some of her fear and sorrow faded—and was replaced by anger. “I’ve given you my decision. You work for me, right? So you need to figure out something else to do in the courtroom tomorrow. Because I’m not testifying.”

  “And neither am I.”

  Ben whipped his head around. His eyes widened when he saw the dark menacing figure in the corridor—surrounded by three bodyguards. “Catrona!”

  Instinctively, Christina and Keri backed away from the doorway as Catrona slowly sauntered in. His escorts followed close behind.

  Ben could feel his knees knocking. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m here because you wanted me, right?” Catrona said, his voice like gravel. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew an official looking single-page sealed document. “I got this subpoena.”

  Ben swallowed. “That’s for the courtroom. Tomorrow.”

  “I thought we should talk tonight.” He moved forward, his eyes never leaving Ben’s. “You know what? I’ve been in business almost twenty-three years. I’ve been the subject of a dozen investigations. But this is the first time anyone’s had the balls to slap me with a subpoena.”

  Christina’s fingers were frantically curling her hair. “I guess you have to admire someone with that kind of courage, huh?”

  Catrona gave her a brief but harsh look. “No. I think I need to teach him a lesson in respect.” He crumpled up the subpoena and shoved it into Ben’s shirt pocket. “You want to talk to me, you come and talk to me. Like you did before. But keep your crappy papers to yourself.” He moved even closer. “If you can’t learn some manners on your own, I’ll have my boys teach ’em to you.”

  “You don’t scare me,” Ben said, delivering what was easily the biggest lie he’d told since the second grade.

  “I should.” Catrona pressed his index finger against Ben’s chest. “Now listen to me. I knew that McNaughton clown was investigating me. I had some boys working on him, even. But I did not kill him. I didn’t do it; I didn’t order it done. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “I don’t know that I can believe that,” Ben said defiantly.

  “Kincaid, your lack of respect is seriously getting on my nerves. Don’t push your luck.”

  “Who else would kill McNaughton in such a horrible way? Who else would make such a show of it?”

  “Like I’d want that? Listen, creep, you’ve been to the movies too much. You think I want publicity? I don’t. Hell, everything I do depends on having as little publicity as possible. So I don’t blow up buildings, I don’t put horse’s heads in people’s beds, and I don’t chain corpses to fountains.”

  “Fine,” Ben said. “Then that’s what you’ll tell the jury. The important thing is that I have a chance to ask you the questions in a public forum.”

  “You’re not listening to me, punk.” He gave Ben a shove, just for emphasis. “You are not going to call me to the stand. I don’t need or want this publicity, I don’t need to be subjected to whatever questions the D.A. might care to ask, and if you like your life, and your friends’ lives, you won’t mess with me.”

  “I have an obligation to defend my client to the best of my ability.”

  “I got that. Why the hell do you think I talked to you in the first place? I didn’t have to give you anything back at the racetrack, and I don’t have to give you anything now. I’m doing it because I feel sorry for your client. I think she’s getting a bum rap; I told you that already. I know you want to turn me into some cartoon mobster, but I got feelings just like everyone else. So I gave you some help. And how do you reward me? With a subpoena!”

  Ben drew in his breath. “If my client’s case depends on your testimony—”

  “Let’s imagine for a moment that you don’t have the sense God gave a lamppost and you actually do call me to the stand. Am I going to admit I killed McNaughton? No. But I will reveal that he was on the take, which is why he got demoted. They couldn’t prove anything; I’m much too careful for that. But they knew, just the same, and that’s why they bucked him down.”

  “If that’s true, why was he reinstated?”

  Catrona leaned back, thumbs hooked in his lapel. “I’m not without a certain influence in this town, Kincaid. Even in the police department.”

  “I don’t believe—”

  “You believe what you want. The point is this. If you haul me up on the stand, I’ll repeat what Joe McNaughton told one of my lieutenants the last time he saw him. He said that he was afraid your little girl was going to kill him.”

  “That’s not true!” Keri cried.

  “In fact, he said she came at him with a knife and said she was going to cut him into a million pieces and hang him out where everyone could see what a faithless toad he was.”

  “I don’t believe a word of this,” Ben said. “That’s a lie.”

  “Maybe it is, and maybe it ain’t. But if you haul me up on the stand, that’s what I’m going to say. So you just think about this, Kincaid, and you think about it real good. Do you really want me up on that witness stand? ’Cause I don’t think you do.” He gave Ben a good hard push, enough to knock him back against the wall. Then he jerked his head around. “C’mon, boys. Let’s go home.”

  Eleven P.M. Several hours had passed in the main conference room, but for all intents and purposes, the persons sitting inside were no further along than they had been before.

  “I’m lost, Ben,” Christina said. “I’m sorry to be so clueless, but I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

  “We’re going to call Catrona, just like we planned.”

  Christina’s eyes fairly bulged. “Did you hear what that man said to you?”
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  “I’m not worried about his threats.”

  “You should be! Even if you don’t have the sense to understand that you’re endangering yourself and your friends, you should understand that he plans to commit perjury. He’s going to tell all kinds of lies.”

  “I’ll be questioning him as a hostile witness. I’ll prove he’s lying.”

  “You mean, you’ll try. He’s not a stupid man, Ben. Not by a long shot.”

  “Well, we have to do something!” Ben slapped his hand down on the table. “Maybe they didn’t cover this in Trial Tactics 101, but after the prosecution finishes its case, the defense starts. That means tomorrow morning at nine A.M., Judge Cable is going to ask me to call my first witness. And I’d damn well better have one!”

  Loving rushed into the conference room carrying a cordless phone. “Skipper—we got a phone call. From Sergeant Matthews.”

  “What does that son of a—”

  “It’s not for you,” Loving said breathlessly. “It’s for Keri.”

  Slowly, Keri’s head lifted. “Wha—”

  “They’ve found your brother.”

  “Kirk?” Her lips and mouth opened, in a strange, mixed expression. “Where is he?”

  “He’s on the roof of the Bank of Oklahoma Tower. And he says he’s going to jump.”

  43

  THREE ARMED POLICE OFFICERS led Ben and Keri through the cordon surrounding the Bank of Oklahoma Tower which, at fifty-plus stories, was the tallest building in Tulsa. They took the elevator to the highest level, then rushed up the stairs to the roof.

  When Ben emerged through the hatch, he felt as if he had entered another world. Two helicopters were hovering overhead, casting focused beams of light on the otherwise dark tableau. Police officers were swarming over the roof, though they kept a respectful distance from the lone man at the far edge. Only one plainclothes officer stood within twenty paces of the man, an electronic bullhorn dangling from one hand.

  Arlen Matthews, of course. Flung into Ben’s face once more, like a cancerous scab that just wouldn’t heal.

  The whole scene was all too eerie for Ben, too reminiscent of the night he had been arrested—the copters, the cops, Matthews. That night, of course, it had been a show Matthews and his buddies put on to scare and intimidate him. This time, however, it was all too real. Kirk Dalcanton stood poised on the edge of the roof threatening to jump. One baby step is all it would take. He could do it long before anyone got close to him. No one could possibly stop him.

  “Get him!” Keri screamed, as soon as her eyes had adjusted enough to understand what she was seeing. “Someone stop him!”

  “They’re trying, ma’am,” a nearby uniform explained. “But there’s not much they can do. He says if they come any closer, he’ll jump. And he looks like he could do it.”

  “How did he get up on the roof?” Ben asked.

  “No clue,” the officer replied. “We think he must’ve snuck in during office hours, then hid in the stairwell till after most of the security officers got off. But that’s just a guess.”

  “But why here?” Ben asked. “There must be other places where it would be easier to kill yourself.”

  “Easier, yes. But few more certain.” The officer cast his gaze toward the horizon. “If he takes that step off the edge of the building, ain’t no power on earth that can save him.”

  “Someone has to help him!” Keri cried. “Please!”

  Officer Matthews spoke into his bullhorn. “Kirk, your sister is here.”

  The effect on Kirk, on his lone silhouette poised on the edge of space, was immediate. “No! Send her away! I don’t want her here!”

  “Kirk, she cares about you.” The electronics made Matthews’s voice seem weird, inhuman. “She doesn’t want to see you come to any harm.”

  “I said, keep her away! I—I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  “Then come away from the edge. Let us take you home.”

  “There’s nothing for me there. There’s nothing for me anywhere.” All at once, Kirk fell to his knees. “It’s all over for me.”

  “Don’t talk like mat, Kirk. It’s never over. Not unless you make it over.”

  Ben watched the terrifying tableau from the rear. Keri clung tightly to him.

  “What’s going on?” Ben asked her. “Do you know what he’s so upset about?”

  Keri did not immediately respond.

  “Keri?” He took her by the shoulders and lifted her up to his eye level. “Keri, if you know something, you’ve got to tell the police.”

  Her voice was quiet. “I know what’s wrong with him.”

  He pulled her closer. “Keri, does this have something to do with the case?”

  He was interrupted by Sergeant Matthews. “Can you give me some hint what to say to him? Something that might persuade him to step away from the edge?”

  Keri hesitated before answering. “Tell him he’s forgiven.”

  “Forgiven? What did he do?”

  She shook her head. “Just tell him—tell him it doesn’t matter anymore. That it’s all over.”

  Matthews frowned. “Could you give me a little to go on here? The more information I have, the better able I am to do my job.”

  “That’s all I can say.”

  Matthews frowned, then returned to his previous position, the closest he could come to Kirk without sending him into a panic. “Kirk … listen to me.”

  Kirk’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “Kirk … you’ve been forgiven.”

  “You’re wrong,” he shouted back. His face was wet, illuminated in the cascading beams of light from the helicopters circling overhead. “I can never be forgiven. No punishment is enough. Even God has turned His back on me.”

  “Now listen to me, Kirk, I don’t know what church you went to, but when I was growing up, they taught me that God never turns His back on anyone. We’re all sinners. But God forgives us.”

  “Not this time.” His eyes slowly turned toward the edge of the building. “Not now.”

  “Don’t do anything crazy, Kirk. Let’s just talk awhile. There’s no hurry.”

  “It’s over,” Kirk said, monotone. He inched closer to the edge. “Time to end it.” His body swayed back and forth, teetering on the brink.

  “Kirk, listen to me!” Matthews was turning one way, then the other, looking anywhere for help. “We’ll do whatever you want. We’ve got your sister here. Look, I’ll send her out to talk to you. She—”

  “No!” he shouted, and a second later, he was gone.

  Ben and Keri rushed to the edge, just in time to see his body dropping out of sight, drifting downward like a skydiver without a parachute, plummeting silently out of their view toward the harsh reality of the pavement fifty stories below.

  “Kirk!” Keri screamed. She fell, her face cradled in her hands. Ben knelt beside her, steadying her, holding her tight. “Kirk!”

  But it was much too late. No one could do anything for Kirk now, not Keri, not Ben, not Sergeant Matthews, not even God. There was nothing in Kirk’s future now but a cold hard death and, if Father Danney was right, the afterlife, which no matter what form or shape it took could not possibly be crueler to Kirk than the life he had finally left behind.

  It was hours later, back at police headquarters, before Keri had recovered sufficiently that she could even speak intelligently. Her face was red and swollen from crying. Her eyes were so weary she could barely keep them open.

  “Come on,” Ben said, wrapping his arm around her. “Let me take you home.”

  She shook her head, with what little energy she had left. “No. We need to talk.”

  “About … us?”

  “About the trial.”

  “Keri, I don’t think this is the time. I’ll get a continuance—”

  “I can testify now.”

  Ben stared at her, lips parted. “I don’t understand …”

  “I can testify now. I want to testify now.”

&nbs
p; “But you said before—”

  “Don’t you see?” She raised her head and her eyes turned upward, pleadingly, toward the heavens. “Everything has changed now. Everything.”

  44

  THE COURTROOM WAS QUIET as a funeral as Keri Dalcanton took her place in the witness box. To say that there was some interest in her testimony was like saying there were animals at the zoo. All eyes were focused on Keri. Everyone had the same suspicion as Ben—that the outcome of this trial would depend on what happened in the next few minutes.

  Judge Cable had called a two-day recess after Kirk’s death, and he had explained to the jury that the defendant had unexpectedly lost her brother, so Ben knew they would have some understanding of the altered figure who now sat before them at center stage. Keri’s eyes were bloodshot and lined in red; too much crying and too little sleep. Although she had usually conducted herself with calm and sobriety in the courtroom, there had also always been a bounce in her step, a liveliness in her eyes. She was nineteen, after all. But not today. Today she moved with slow care, like the flow of a river, heavy and deliberate. She sat before the jury unadorned, almost as if she was helpless to do anything but respond to the questions put to her—the questions that she told Ben she could now answer truthfully, for the very first time.

  “When did you leave Stroud and come to Tulsa?” Ben asked, after they finished the preliminaries.

  “Just after the Level Five tornado hit. Little over a year ago.” Her voice was flat and uninflected, and yet at the same time packed with raw emotion. “It had been a hard year. For both me and my brother.”

  “What had happened?”

  “We … lost our parents.” Again, the fact that she was not overtly emotional, that she was obviously fighting it back, made what she had to say all the more tragic. “They were young—early fifties—but there was a tragedy. A traffic accident. They were driving late at night and a truck came out of nowhere at an intersection and—”As she paused, Ben could almost see the strain, the furious energy it took to suppress her anguish. “They were killed instantly.”