State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller

by Flowers, R. Barri

  Not to mention Rafael Santiago’s threats against Judge Crawford and his wife.

  “Were there any distinguishing marks on Mrs. Crawford?” Beverly asked the suspect, her own face flushed.

  Manuel conferred with his attorney, as if anticipating this question and shaping the perfect answer. Showing his teeth, he responded, “Yeah, I remember she had a birthmark right below her belly button. And guess what? She even had a strawberry tattoo on the right cheek of her ass. Not as pretty as mine, but it left an impression. You know what I mean?”

  Beverly did not even dignify that with an answer, though she jotted down the details. Maxine Crawford would be able to verify them easily enough.

  “I suppose you wiped the place clean?” Beverly suggested in an attempt to trip him up. “We were only able to get a partial fingerprint from the bed.” She glanced at O’Dell who she knew understood exactly what she was doing.

  Natalie spoke quietly in her client’s ear and he returned the favor. When this was done, Manuel looked at Beverly, and said confidently, “That partial wasn’t mine, baby. I wore gloves while I took care of business. I wasn’t really lookin’ to send the cops on a beeline right to my front door.” He paused. “Not that night anyway—”

  Beverly leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at the suspect, thoughtful. “I’m curious, since you seem to enjoy strangling and slashing helpless women, Manuel, why didn’t you do the same to Maxine Crawford?”

  Natalie tried to defend her client. “The point is he didn’t kill her,” she stressed. “Why is not really the issue here.”

  “I think it is,” Beverly held her ground. “We all do. I find it hard to believe that, given your client’s track record, he would leave a female victim alive to be able to identify him.” She sighed theatrically. “Unless, of course, he wasn’t the one who sexually assaulted her and shot to death the judge—”

  Natalie said something incomprehensible to Gonzalez, who nodded a couple of times and never appeared to be rattled.

  Regarding Beverly with a disparaging look, Manuel said cynically, “I do I what I do on impulse. With the judge, I was payin’ off a debt, okay. No reason to give the white amigo more than what I owed. I took care of the wife, Adrienne, and her lover. With Maxine, I just wanted to have some fun with the bitch. She gave me what I wanted, and then I left her alone. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Is it now?” questioned Beverly.

  “Yeah,” he grinned callously. “Guess it just wasn’t her time to go.” Manuel looked at Beverly with an amused smile. “Like it wasn’t yours, Ms. Attorney—”

  Beverly had a momentary flashback of her brush with death at his callous hands. She fought the urge to say a choice word or two to the rapist-killer, realizing she would only be doing just what he wanted. Obviously he got a vicarious thrill out of taunting women whether or not he was in police custody.

  She almost marveled at Gonzalez seemingly knowing all the right answers. It was as if he had been coached.

  Or did it come directly from memory, having truly been there?

  Could he possibly have been in consultation with Santiago? Rehearsing their stories till they knew them word for word by heart?

  “Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?” Beverly challenged Gonzalez. It wasn’t admissible in a court of law, but would certainly lend credence to his story if he passed it. Especially considering that Rafael Santiago had refused to take one, though insisting on his innocence.

  “Why should I?” Manuel retorted uneasily. “I told you how it went down.”

  “Because it would further bolster your claim,” she replied flatly. “Unless you have been lying about this whole thing?”

  Beverly knew that he had given them enough to take to court and get a conviction—were it not for the fact that they already had his twin brother in custody for committing the same crime. She still needed more to feel certain that Manuel’s confession was not false or somehow coerced.

  And that a guilty man would not be set free irresponsibly.

  Manuel again talked this over with his lawyer. She, in fact, did most of the talking. At first they seemed very much at odds over this. Then they appeared to form a joint front.

  Natalie sighed and brushed her nose lightly with the tip of a finger. “Mr. Gonzalez has nothing to hide, as volunteering to give a sample of his DNA would attest to. He would be happy to take the lie detector test, Counselor.”

  Beverly met the chilling, calculating eyes of Manuel Gonzalez. It was as if he was toying with her, reminding her that she had once been under his power. Either way this turned out, knowing that he would never be allowed to walk the streets again gave her some solace. She would feel even better once the bond between identical twins was broken and one was held fully accountable for the brutal crimes perpetrated against Sheldon and Maxine Crawford.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Beverly accompanied Stone Palmer to visit Isabel Santiago, the woman who was apparently the mother of both Rafael Santiago and Manuel Gonzalez.

  The lady has some explaining to do. Beverly assumed that Manuel had been given up at some point for adoption. Or was it Rafael who was adopted? The birth records hadn’t been very clear either way.

  While they waited for the lie detector test to be administered to Manuel Gonzalez, Beverly hoped to gain some insight into both he and Santiago from the one person who might be best able to fill in the blanks on the two violent men.

  “Do you think Gonzalez did it?” Beverly asked the detective.

  Stone glanced at her from behind the wheel. He hated to be wrong on this one with so much at stake, but owed her an opinion. “Well, there’s no question in my mind that the man’s a cold blooded killer with at least three victims. As to whether or not Gonzalez was responsible for Judge Crawford’s death and attacking his wife, it doesn’t exactly fit. But then again, Gonzalez is making a strong case for himself. What do you think?”

  “I think that Gonzalez and Santiago are guilty of trying to manipulate us to serve their own best interests,” Beverly answered bluntly. “As to which one committed the crimes against the Crawfords, my gut instincts tell me we’ve got the right man in Rafael Santiago. But the lie detector test may make me rethink my position. And maybe whatever Isabel Santiago has to say...”

  “Fair enough.” Stone knew her neck was on the line here as much as his was. Any missteps for either of them could hurt their individual cases and adversely affect their careers.

  * * *

  When Stone identified himself and Beverly to Isabel Santiago, she unlocked the door and let them in.

  “You’re here to talk about my son, Rafael?” Isabel asked warily.

  Beverly gazed at her. “We’re here to talk about your other son, Manuel Gonzalez.” She detected fear in the old woman’s craggy face at the mention of the name. “He is Rafael’s identical twin, isn’t he?”

  Isabel nodded, slumping onto a chair. “How did you find out?”

  “DNA test confirmed that they were identical twins,” Stone said.

  “Both of your sons are in serious trouble,” Beverly told her. “We need to know why. Our records had shown that they weren’t related. We’d like you to help us out here—for them.”

  With some effort, Isabel leaned over and picked up the cat that scurried over to her. She sat it on her lap and became thoughtful. “I was still living in Cuba when I got pregnant. My lover didn’t want anything to do with me when he found out, so he went back to his wife and I was left all alone. When I found out I was carrying twins, I knew I couldn’t raise them both by myself. I had to choose between them...”

  “And you chose Rafael?” guessed Beverly.

  Isabel nodded sadly. “If I could do it over again, I would’ve kept them both. But I gave one to my American friend, Rosa. She always wanted a child, but couldn’t have any of her own. She knew the right people and was able to pass him off as her own. She brought Manuel to live with her in this country. Later I came here myself with Rafael.”


  She paused, petting her cat almost mechanically. “When Manuel got into too much trouble in Los Angeles where my friend lived, she sent him to live with me here. We agreed that Manuel would be my nephew. But he was more like a stranger. He and Rafael didn’t get along very well. Both were in and out of trouble with the law. I finally had to ask Manuel to leave my house, to try and save Rafael.”

  “But you couldn’t?” Beverly regarded the woman, knowing that Rafael had killed his pregnant girlfriend at the very least.

  Isabel wiped at tears in her eyes. “No. I lost them both to the streets and drugs.”

  “When did they find out they were identical twins?” Stone asked.

  Isabel stared at the question. “Manuel made me tell him three weeks ago,” she confessed. “He suspected it for a long time. I thought if I told him it might help get his life back on track.” Her eyes lowered, defeated.

  “Do you know if Manuel has been in contact with Rafael?” Beverly asked. Prison and jail records had shown no interaction between the two, but she knew there were ways around that for experienced inmates. Or determined criminal brothers.

  Isabel’s mouth furrowed. “Neither of them has talked about it, but I think my sons have been communicating since Rafael was arrested. Now Manuel is in the same boat. Maybe it’s best. I don’t have to be sacred no more.”

  Beverly felt sorry for what this woman had already been put through. She wished they could leave it at that, but as a prosecutor she had a job to perform in the interest of justice.

  “Manuel has confessed to crimes that Rafael has been charged with,” she pointed out. “Since their DNA matches, we’re not sure who the real culprit is. Maybe you can help keep one of them from taking the rap for crimes he didn’t commit.”

  Beverly recalled that Isabel had been Santiago’s alibi at the time the crimes against the Crawfords took place and was to be his attorney’s key witness. Was she lying then? Would Isabel lie now to protect the son she most called her own?

  Isabel tossed her cat to the floor and it scrambled away. She wiped her eyes and looked at Beverly and Stone.

  “Manuel is a very good liar, but also a very bad person,” she said. “I wouldn’t put anything past him. Don’t know why he’d want to help Rafael. Maybe he just wants to do the right thing.”

  Yeah, sure, like prolonging his own life, Stone mused. The sadistic killer would probably kill his own mother if it meant saving his ass from a similar fate.

  But Stone conceded that despicable as he may be, Gonzalez could still be right on the money in taking responsibility for another murder and sexual assault.

  Or more interested in letting his twin brother off the hook in some sort of symbiotic pact.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Beverly played the videotape back for Maxine to watch. She stopped after Manuel Gonzalez had described the birthmark below her belly button and the strawberry tattoo on her bottom. All the while Beverly studied her star witness’s reaction.

  Maxine appeared almost expressionless.

  The way Beverly saw it, either Gonzalez was lying outright or had somehow been supplied with this intimate information from the real rapist.

  Or he had the opportunity to see the birthmark and tattoo firsthand under other circumstances.

  Which was it?

  Beverly arched a brow as she asked straightforwardly, “Do you have a birthmark below your belly button?”

  Maxine looked confused, as if spoken to in a foreign language. “Yes,” she finally stated like she was on the witness stand.

  It occurred to Beverly that it was theoretically possible that Gonzalez—or even Santiago for that matter—could have seen the birthmark when Maxine exposed that part of her body as a fashion or personal statement. Or even while dancing and selling her body during her previous life.

  “It’s about the size of a dime,” Maxine uttered reflectively. “I always wondered why there of all places—”

  “What about the strawberry tattoo?” Beverly asked for verification.

  “Oh that,” Maxine said coyly. “I got it before I met Sheldon. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Most women I knew were getting tattoos on their asses—as a kind of freedom of expression thing.” Her voice waned. “I suppose I would have been much better off without it—”

  Beverly didn’t believe that was necessarily the case. The tattoo itself had nothing to do with her attack, though it was certainly another reminder of it.

  “May I see the tattoo?” she asked sanguinely.

  Maxine wrinkled her nose. “Sure. Why not? Apparently everyone else has.”

  “I only want to see for myself what Manuel Gonzalez claimed to have,” Beverly defended herself. “We have to know that this is truly the man who assaulted you.”

  Maxine stood and turned her back to Beverly. Then in a single motion, she pulled down black, cropped slacks. She wore a honey colored thong, revealing a firm, shapely bottom. On her right buttock was a small strawberry tattoo.

  Beverly couldn’t help but think in that moment that this case could ultimately be decided on the strength of two tattoos in unusual and intimate places.

  She had seen enough.

  After Maxine had taken a seat again, Beverly asked evenly, “Is it possible that you could have met Manuel Gonzalez before you were attacked?”

  Maxine flung her a sharp gaze. “I’m not sure I like the implications of the question...”

  “This isn’t an inquisition into your past,” Beverly tried to assure her. She saw no reason to bring up any specifics unless Maxine chose to. “However, if there is any chance that Gonzalez could have seen that tattoo or birthmark before the night in question, I need to know—”

  A vein bulged in Maxine’s temple. “I have never seen that man before he shot my husband in cold blood and forced me to perform sex acts with him!” she answered vehemently. “If I had, I would tell you. I never forget a face.”

  Except when the face is identical to another face, Beverly mused.

  Which face was it she remembered seeing?

  Which body?

  Which lizard tattoo?

  Beverly wondered if Manuel Gonzalez was indeed the right assailant, as he’d insisted and Maxine had identified the second time around. Or could Maxine’s first positive identification have been the correct one?

  * * *

  Beverly stood at the window observing as Manuel Gonzalez was being readied to take the polygraph exam. He appeared fairly calm and confident, whereas her stomach was in knots and her confidence faltering.

  In spite of the general reliability of polygraph exams, they were hardly foolproof. She had known of instances where the suspect had passed the test, only to fail the weight of evidence. Or vice versa.

  How would Gonzalez fare? Could he outsmart the polygraph?

  Was he even capable of showing the range of emotions usually present in establishing whether or not the subject was telling the truth?

  Beverly looked with askance at Natalie Pena, standing several feet from her, as though a wall stood between them. Gonzalez’s attorney had just as much riding on the outcome as she did. Probably more, considering the lady was putting her trust in a man who had already proven himself to be unpredictable, dishonest, and dangerous. Not to mention would almost surely be convicted of three other murders in which the evidence against him was overwhelming.

  It scared Beverly, as she realized that the very same characteristics she attributed to Manuel Gonzalez also applied to Rafael Santiago.

  Others present with a vested interest in the exam results included Detectives Palmer, Chang, and Arellano whose investigation of Gonzalez led to his arrest in the first place; Detective Joe O’Dell and Gail Kennedy.

  * * *

  Inside the room, Jackie Hampton sat at an angle from Manuel Gonzalez. The polygraph examiner was in her thirties, with brunette hair severely tied in a bun. She had been briefed on the circumstances involving the subject and was certain that the test would either confirm
or refute his confession. For an instant, she tried to imagine herself as the victim of the vicious sexual assaults he was being charged with. The thought was revolting to Jackie as she concentrated on the matter at hand.

  “Are you ready, Mr. Gonzalez?” she asked politely after glancing at the brawny guard standing impassively in the corner.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” he responded tartly, bracing himself as if about to run into a brick wall.

  “Try to relax,” she urged him, knowing the results depended on it. “Just answer the questions as truthfully and precisely as you can and I’m sure you will do fine—”

  Jackie chided herself for making it seem like a simple school exam where one was rewarded for one’s efforts. Whatever the outcome, she realized he was in a no win situation as life imprisonment was hardly a picnic for anyone.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Manuel Roberto Gonzalez.” He grinned at her, as if an introduction for a date.

  She viewed the instruments. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  He flashed his teeth. “Yeah.”

  “Please answer with a yes or no, Mr. Gonzalez. Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “Yes.”

  The instruments showed no great variation. “Did you kill Adrienne Murray?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  Jackie drew in a ragged breath. “Did you kill Claudia Sosa?”

  Manuel lowered his eyes ruefully. “Do I have to answer that?”

  “Yes,” she stated. “Please.”

  “Yes,” he muttered tonelessly, looking Jackie straight in the eye.

  She averted his stare, instead studying the polygraph, trained to interpret the meaning of the lines crossing over, zigzagging this way and that.

  “Did you break into Judge Sheldon Crawford’s house on the twenty-ninth of October of last year?” Jackie asked.

  “Yes.”

  She made herself look at him. “And did you kill Judge Crawford?”