SK01 - Waist Deep

by Frank Zafiro

  I shook my head. “It’s all messed up, Katie. No one will listen to me.”

  “It’s not true, is it?” she asked, her eyes unsure of me. “You didn’t use me to find some girl so you could put her on the Internet, did you?”

  My gut twisted. “No. How can you even think that?”

  She gave me a look that said a hundred things at once. That she didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t quite not believe it. That I’d hurt her. That maybe she still cared but that she couldn’t let herself still care.

  Or hell, maybe I saw those things in her eyes because I wanted to see some of them.

  “Katie, I called you because I needed help finding that girl for her father. Just like I told you at lunch. That’s the truth.”

  She bit her lip. “They’re saying your prints are all over the basement where they made these movies. That you had pictures on you when they arrested you.”

  I sighed. “I broke in to his house, all right?”

  “You broke in?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I broke in looking for her and instead, I found his little porno den downstairs.”

  “What about those pictures?”

  I nodded. “I found those, too, and I took them.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to erase her existence from his life. Wash it away.”

  She stared at me. “I want to believe you, Stef. But…”

  “Then believe me,” I said. “Look, Katie. Matt Sinderling is Kris’s father. He hired me to find her. Call him and ask. He’ll vouch for me.”

  She didn’t reply. I knew what she was wondering. How did I end up at Roger Jackson’s house with Kris in my car? “After I talked to you, I worked East Sprague because of the FI,” I explained. “I talked to someone—“

  “The pimp? Rolo?”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I found out about Jackson and the movies he was making. I went to Jackson’s house. He wasn’t there. So I broke in, looking for Kris or some sign of where she was. That’s what happened.”

  “Was he home at the time?”

  “No,” I said. “Well, not at first. He eventually came home. We had some words and he told me where to find Kris.”

  “And you went and got her.”

  “Yeah. Is this an official interrogation? Because if it is, I guess I just copped to a first degree burg.”

  An expression of genuine hurt sprang onto her face. “No,” she said. “Stone would pitch a fit if he knew I came in here to talk to you.”

  “Sorry.”

  Katie paused, staring at me and biting her lip. “Why’d you go back to his house, Stef? I don’t understand that.”

  I stared at Katie for a long time, wondering if I could trust her and if she could trust me. In the end, I realized it didn’t matter either way. I said, “I had to let Jackson know it was over between him and Kris. And for him to leave her alone.”

  Katie looked at me. I could see she hadn’t made up her mind yet. I looked back at her, feeling like someone had kicked me in the stomach. That moment suddenly became the worst moment of my life since the day Amy Dugger died.

  “Your lawyer is on the way,” she told me, a touch icily. “Since when did you become friendly with Joel Harrity?”

  Joel Harrity was the gadfly lawyer in River City, one who was frequently bringing charges of police brutality and illegal police searches against the department. He stopped short of characterizing cops as malicious, but he wasn’t afraid to call them inept or deliberately sloppy and he frequently did both. When I was on the job, I hated him. After I left the job, I figured out that he was never talking about me when he made those accusations. They didn’t apply, at least not until the Amy Dugger case. I also learned that he was a hell of a good lawyer and more importantly, that he had the prosecutor’s ear.

  “I’m not friendly with him,” I told her. “I need a good lawyer. He’s a good lawyer.”

  “He a parasite,” Katie said with a scowl.

  I shrugged. “He’ll fix this mess for me.”

  She didn’t reply.

  There was another long silence. I finally broke it, saying, “I’m not going to tell them about you helping me, Katie. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  She didn’t answer for a long while. Finally, she muttered, “Thanks,” then stood up and left the room.

  62

  Joel Harrity was older than his picture. I’d seen it in the newspaper and on a couple of billboards. The shot they usually used had to be at least ten years old. His jet black hair had strands of gray throughout and his sharply etched face was a little softer. But his eyes were just as shrewd and his voice was melodious and comforting. I imagined him using it to woo a jury and could see why he was so successful.

  We’d spoken for almost an hour. At first, he asked a lot of questions and wrote down everything. As the hour progressed, he stopped writing except for the occasional note and hardly interrupted at all. When I was finished, he sighed.

  “We’re in a tough spot,” he said.

  He was looking at me as if waiting for a response, so I said, “No shit, counselor.”

  Harrity didn’t smile. “I just want you to be clear. By your admission, you’ve committed three burglaries, all of them first degree because of the assaults and, of course, the firearm—“

  “Wait a minute. Three?”

  He counted off on his fingers. “Gary LeMond’s fenced back yard, Roger Jackson’s house and the apartment Kris Sinderling was living in.”

  “That last one is pretty weak.”

  “True, and from the sounds of it, she won’t be choosing to press any charges. Still, I’m only going over the facts. You did those crimes. You also failed to report LeMond’s affair with the girl, Yvette. That doesn’t make us any friends.”

  “If I hadn’t promised not to dime him out,” I explained, “he’d never have told me about Kris.”

  Harrity nodded. “Which he, in fact, did not do. He lied. I would say that was a breach of oral contract on his part.”

  I smiled at his choice of words, imagining Rolo and Harrity sitting down and talking about the legalities of contract breaches.

  Harrity seemed to notice my smile, but decided to ignore it. He continued without missing a beat. “The police raided Jackson’s house and found his film-making setup, as well as his website server. According to what little they are telling me, Jackson looked like he’d been in a fight. When they swept through the house, he was in the basement, deleting files off of his computer. I spoke to his lawyer—“

  “He lawyered up?”

  Harrity nodded. “Immediately. Which is what you should’ve done, by the way. His lawyer is a guy I went through law school with at Gonzaga. He told me that his client is not intending to submit to any interviews or make any statements. He won’t mention your name. He doesn’t care about the burglary or the assault. Unless, of course, the police come to him with a signed statement from you giving up him and LeMond.”

  I thought about that. “He was deleting files when the cops took the door?”

  “Yes.”

  That meant he got free of my duct taping. “What’d he say to the S.W.A.T. boys about the duct tape on the dining room chair?”

  “I don’t know for sure. I think it was something along the lines that they could go screw themselves.” Harrity’s expression was flat.

  I thought some more. “So I can completely ignore the B & E at Jackson’s house and he won’t press charges?”

  “I believe so,” Harrity said with a nod. “Of course, the State can always decide to pursue the case, anyway, as with all felonies, but –“

  “No victim, no crime,” I said, a familiar old mantra that had closed out more than one call for service in my other life.

  “Right. And I doubt they could get enough probable cause for a charge without his testimony or a confession from you.” He paused a beat, then added, “Which I strongly discourage, by the way.”

  No kidding, I thou
ght. Then I asked, “Why would Jackson do that, though? I mean, he can’t entirely save himself by giving me up but he could probably help himself out. And if he gave up LeMond, too…”

  Harrity shrugged. “Not my concern. The fact is that his attorney is good to his word, and if I am to represent you, we will be as well. It is a wash between you and Roger Jackson.”

  “How much time will he get if he’s convicted?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Come on,” I said. “How much? Ballpark.”

  Harrity leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “Well, if Kris Sinderling doesn’t testify and if none of the other girls are underage or if they refuse to testify, his attorney could probably make a successful argument as to lack of knowledge and lack of intent.”

  “So he’ll say that he didn’t know they were underage?”

  “Pretty much. And if it looks like it’s going to go that way, the DA may deal the case. If it plea bargains out, and Jackson is a first-time offender…say seven years or so.”

  “Of which he serves three and a half?”

  “Maybe. The judge might suspend all but a year and throw him in County for a year. He’ll get a third of that off for good time.”

  “Nine months.”

  “Best case scenario, yeah. If it plea bargains out.”

  “And if it goes to trial?”

  Harrity shook his head. “That’s always a crap shoot.”

  I nodded my head and took a deep breath. I understood Jackson’s reasoning now. He had something more than a hundred thousand dollars sitting in an offshore account waiting for him when he got out. If he had been smart with setting up the account, the cops would never find it. He’d plead the case, do his little stint in jail and then blow town.

  “What about LeMond?” Harrity asked me.

  “What about him?”

  “Do you still feel bound by any promise to him?”

  “I promised Kris,” I said. “That’s the only promise that counts.”

  “Well,” Harrity said, “that little girl asked for her dad and a lawyer the minute they got her to the station. She is refusing to say a word about anything to the police.”

  “So LeMond gets a walk,” I said.

  Harrity shrugged. “From what you told me, he’ll leave town. Even if he doesn’t, his business dealings with Roger Jackson are through. And his dealings with students will come to light sooner or later. Things like that always do.”

  I thought about what he said. He was probably right. Yvette or some girl just like her would tell the right person at some point. Then it would all come out and LeMond’s goose would be cooked. Or the cops might find something at Jackson’s to link them together. All of that was beyond my control. I promised Kris I wouldn’t say anything about LeMond. That was it.

  “Will they charge me, do you think?” I asked Harrity. “After Sinderling tells them he hired me and Jackson tells them to pound sand?”

  “I don’t know,” Harrity said. “You did have what is technically child pornography in your pocket when they arrested you.”

  “You can’t be serious. Those pictures were tame.” That was true. None of the photos actually showed any nudity. Even so, I felt dirty and ashamed as I made the excuse.

  Harrity shrugged. “I should be able to convince them to drop that charge. It’d be weak at best, anyway, and even though you’re not a licensed private investigator, you took them as part of your investigation. But there’s the gun charge to worry about, too.”

  I’d forgotten about that. “Misdemeanor?”

  “You’re not a convicted felon are you?”

  “No.”

  “Any domestic violence convictions?”

  “No convictions ever.”

  “Then yes, it’s a misdemeanor.”

  “We won’t beat the rap on that charge,” I observed, tapping my fingers.

  Harrity shook his head. “Not a chance. They had a valid search warrant and you were in front of the house. I might have had a decent argument that you were unconnected to the residence, if it weren’t for the fingerprints you left all over inside of the place.”

  “So we plead that one?”

  “That would be my advice, yes.”

  “What’s the sentencing guideline for that charge?”

  “You could get up to a year, but the standard range is thirty to ninety days. Most of that can be suspended, though.”

  “What’s your best guess?”

  “Less than thirty days.”

  “How sure are you of all this?” I asked him.

  “I am certain of none of it,” Harrity answered. “But I’m pretty confident about all of it.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “A month in County Jail, huh?”

  Harrity nodded. “And count yourself lucky.”

  I didn’t feel so lucky, but I told him thanks anyway.

  63

  Roger Jackson was good to his word. He dummied up and didn’t tell the police anything. They had enough evidence on him without a statement, anyway. They pled his case right away and Jackson got seven months in County.

  I spent my days in jail in a dim rectangular room with an uncomfortable bed, a thin blanket and a toilet with no seat. The food wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be and the days were longer than I ever could have imagined. I stretched out the muscles in my legs and did pushups on the hard floor until my shoulder wouldn’t allow it anymore.

  A week into my stay, I got a letter from Matt.

  Dear Stef,

  I tried to visit you, but the jail said that since you were in pre-trial, you don’t get to have visitors. That seems messed up to me, but I guess rules are rules.

  I just wanted to say thanks. You did what I asked you to do. You found my little girl, and you brought her back.

  We talked some. I had a lot of questions, but Kris convinced me that most of them couldn’t be answered. And you know what? I’m okay with that. I saw more than I want to know in the newspapers, anyway. She’s back, and that’s what matters.

  You can keep the car as a bonus. I hate to think of you walking everywhere.

  If you ever need tickets to a hockey game, all you have to do is call.

  Thanks again, Stef.

  Matthew Sinderling

  I thought about that last part. Going to a hockey game again. The Flyers were battling for the final playoff spot. There might still be a few home games left when all of this was finished. I thought about taking Cassie to a game. I didn’t know if she liked hockey or not, but they served ice cream at the Arena, so it could work out.

  If she was still interested, after reading in the newspaper about me.

  I guess I’d just have to see.

  Harrity was right about my case, too. The DA didn’t want anything to do with my burglary case with an uncooperative victim, especially when his own office just prosecuted that same victim for child pornography.

  Harrity came to see me on a Saturday. Even on the weekend, he wore a stylish suit and a tie. He brought me a deli sandwich and a diet Coke. That was when I realized the food in jail really wasn’t as good as I’d thought. I sat and ate the sandwich while we tied up the loose ends of my case.

  “Kris never said a word?” I asked around a mouthful of ham, cheese and bread.

  “No,” Harrity answered. “And Matt Sinderling confirmed that he hired you.”

  “So what does that do for me?”

  “The DA agreed to drop the issue of the pictures and deal strictly with the gun charge.”

  “And no chance that goes away?”

  “On what grounds?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve got no criminal record.”

  “True,” Harrity said, “but you used to be a cop. You know the law, and that creates a higher expectation. Not legally, but in the mind of the prosecutor.”

  I didn’t answer. At first, it seemed unfair that I was being penalized for having been a cop. But after I thought about it for a few seconds, I realized it was true. I did k
now better.

  “Besides,” Harrity added, “I’ve got it on good authority that the detective in this case is pushing the prosecutor pretty hard to charge something.”

  “Stone?”

  “That’s the one. He originally submitted a laundry list of charges to the prosecutor, including Transporting a Juvenile for Immoral Sexual Purposes.”

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “The affidavit alleges that was what you were doing when you were arrested.”

  I rolled my eyes. Stone was out for blood.

  “It didn’t fly with the DA,” Harrity said. “He’s ready to offer sixty days with forty-five suspended for a guilty plea on the gun charge.”

  “Yeah?”

  Harrity nodded and consulted his notes. “You’ve been here for thirteen days already, so if we plead on Monday, you can walk out of the courtroom a free man.”

  “I’ll take it,” I said.

  “Good. Everything okay in here?”

  I smiled at the thought. Was everything okay? I was in jail, in solitary confinement. I used to put people in here.

  “Something funny?” Harrity asked.

  “No,” I said. “Not really. Things are okay. They let me out for exercise an hour day. I play basketball by myself.”

  “It may seem lonely,” Harrity said, “but it’s safe. Word travels quick in here. You’d be a target, even ten years removed from the force.”

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks for doing that.”

  “It’s my job.” He paused, then added, “You know, you could have bailed out on this charge.”

  I shrugged. I probably had enough money left over from Matt’s retainer to pay a bondsman. But it wasn’t like I could really spare it. “We’re looking to plea bargain, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll be serving days anyway. Might as well get them finished now.”

  Harrity raised an eyebrow. It was as close to a smile as I’d seen from him since he took my case. “Most people would put off the inevitable.”

  “Most people wouldn’t be in this situation,” I said.

  Harrity didn’t answer.