The Lawyer's Lawyer

by James Sheehan

  “Yeah.”

  “So what would be our basis for a search warrant?”

  “He fits a portion of the eyewitness description, at least that portion that could not be disguised.”

  “And that is?”

  “He’s tall, thin, and he’s got fine features—a straight nose, thin lips.”

  “That’s it? How do we know the killer was in disguise when he tried to kill that young girl? What was her name?”

  “Stacey Kincaid. We don’t know for sure, but we have enough evidence to make the assumption.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He eventually killed Stacey in St. Petersburg at a party. If you recall, he stabbed her twice at close range.”

  “Okay,” Jeffries said.

  “He had to be confident that he could get that close to her at a party without her recognizing him.”

  Captain Jeffries folded his arms and scratched his chin with his right hand. It was an obvious conclusion, but nobody had even brought it up before Danni mentioned it. So much for all the sophisticated equipment; it never replaced good police work.

  “Okay, let’s assume he was disguised. What else do you have?”

  “I found a very rare knife in his apartment. It was long and thin with a black pearl handle. I’d never seen a knife like that before.”

  “I’m not following you, Danni. Was that knife or one like it used in any of the murders that we know of?”

  “Stacey Kincaid said the murderer tried to kill her with a very unique knife. The description was something like a bowie knife with a gargoyle carved on the handle.”

  “A bowie knife isn’t thin—it’s broad. Makes a wide cut. Where’s the connection?”

  “Maybe he’s a knife collector. Maybe he’s got a collection of knives in that second bedroom we didn’t see and he wouldn’t let us into.”

  She lost him there. She could see it in his face.

  Jeffries didn’t comment on that theory directly. He knew Danni had been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours, and it was understandable that she wanted to get this guy as soon as possible. He didn’t want to tell her she was grasping at straws so he waited a few moments.

  “We won’t get a search warrant with that evidence, Danni. It’s not probable cause.”

  “Probable cause is what the judge says it is. Who knows? We might get Judge Reed. He pretty much signs anything that comes across his desk.”

  “I don’t think so. Not even Judge Reed would sign this one once he knows all the facts. Look, I know this is personal now and you want to get this guy, but you’re targeting someone without evidence. It’s what we tend to do when we get antsy.”

  “I’m not antsy, Sam. I think we need to try for this search warrant. If we’re wrong, we’re disrupting this guy’s day for a few hours. If we’re right, we might save somebody’s life. We need to do something.”

  “All right, Danni, you prepare an affidavit and copy this file and I’ll ship it over to the state attorney’s office. If they think it’s worth it, they’ll go to the judge for a warrant.”

  “That’s not good enough, Sam. Jane Pelicano is the assistant state attorney assigned to work with us on this case. You need to talk to her and convince her to go get that warrant for us.”

  “Look, Danni, I’m the head of this task force. I don’t mind going out on a limb and trying new ideas, but I can’t start lobbying on your behalf for something I don’t believe is going to work.

  “Having said that, you write a memo along with your affidavit stating every reason you can think of to justify getting a warrant and I’ll send it along. If you want to talk to Jane yourself after that, I have no problem with it.”

  Danni knew that was the best deal she was going to get.

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  “No problem. Keep thinking, keep pushing. We’ll nail this guy.”

  Chapter Nine

  A few days after her memo and affidavit had been sent, Danni went to see Jane Pelicano. She’d called first and made an appointment so Jane was ready for her.

  Jane Pelicano was the top assistant state attorney in Lou Daniel’s office. She tried many of the high-profile capital felonies, so it was no surprise that she’d been assigned to this case. Danni had her work cut out for her but she was ready. She wasn’t sure why, but the desire to get a warrant and search Thomas Felton’s apartment was starting to consume her.

  Jane Pelicano was standing up when Danni walked into her office. She came around her desk to greet Danni. The two women knew each other professionally because they’d worked on a lot of cases together.

  “I read your memo and your affidavit, Danni. Sam sent me a memo, too, along with the file. I’m with him on this: Suspicion isn’t probable cause. We’ve got nothing to connect this guy. The fact that he was in Utah and is now here is totally explainable and his story checks out. After that what do we have? He fits part of the description, and the killer probably used a disguise, but that’s not going to cut it and you know it.”

  Jane Pelicano was a tall woman with short, drab, brownish hair. Nobody would ever call her pretty nor would they call her ugly. Her features were ordinary and she did nothing to enhance them by wearing little makeup and conservative pantsuits every day. Her success was intrinsically tied to the fact that nothing was about her. She approached the job in a businesslike manner; she got the jury to focus on the evidence, and she had the ability and the confidence to out-lawyer even the best criminal defense lawyers and ram home the conviction. Under normal circumstances, Danni was no match for Jane Pelicano.

  “What’s the harm, Jane, in putting it before the court?”

  “The judges rely on us to screen these affidavits so they’re not dealing with frivolous motions all the time.”

  “So this is about your reputation? Seven women have been murdered already. We need to have a sense of urgency here.”

  Jane walked over to where Danni was standing. She didn’t get in her space but Danni could feel her.

  “How long have you known me, Danni? Do you ever think I would put my own interests over getting the evidence against a serial killer?”

  “No, I don’t. But explain to me again why you won’t even try. And leave out the part about the judge relying on you—because that seems to be about your reputation.”

  Jane walked away from her at that point and stood behind her desk with her arms folded across her chest.

  “Do you know how many reporters are here in town writing about these murders?”

  “A lot.”

  “More than a lot, Danni; there are reporters here from all over the globe. Let’s say we get the search warrant with this flimsy evidence, which is no evidence really, and search Mr. Felton’s apartment. And let’s say we find nothing. That day, not the next day but that very day, Mr. Felton will be known worldwide as a suspected serial killer. His reputation will be ruined forever. No matter what happens in this case, he has been labeled and he will be hounded by the press and other assorted sickos. People who have been labeled like that in the past for the most part never recovered. They got sick, they committed suicide, whatever.

  “Sam told me that you said something about Mr. Felton being inconvenienced for a couple of hours—that is so far from the truth. The judge’s reputation would suffer as well. The Fourth Amendment protects the innocent from unreasonable searches and seizures. That’s also part of my obligation as a prosecutor.”

  Jane had certainly given Danni a lot to think about, and she did it in that way of hers, with that air of certainty that she used in her closing arguments to convince the jury there was no other conclusion to reach. Danni didn’t come back at her right away. She paused for a few moments to give Jane and her speech the proper amount of respect.

  “I hear you, Jane, and everything you said is true. You’re right. I haven’t considered all the ramifications for Mr. Felton nor do I want to. I want to keep my focus on those seven girls and the next victim, whoever she may be. If I can save her
life and her family and her friends the heartache, I’ll move mountains to do it. This killer has talked to me. He’s intimated to me that he could kill my own daughter. He’s got to be stopped. As a matter of fact, now that I mention it, I talked to both Mr. Felton and the killer and their voices sounded familiar. I can add that to my affidavit.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Danni. A professional like you meeting with her superior and then with the state attorney, preparing a memo and an affidavit, and then suddenly recalling that the voices of the killer and her suspect were familiar—that is so outrageous it could get you fired.

  “Look, I know this is personal for you. Sam told me all about your daughter’s situation, but that doesn’t justify bending the law. We have to follow the law. Having said that, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’ll ask for the search warrant. I’ll sit down with the judge and I’ll lay it all out for him or her, whoever we get, the pros and the cons, and we’ll let the chips fall where they may.”

  Danni couldn’t believe her ears. Had she actually gotten through to Jane?

  “Fair enough,” she said.

  On the way out of Jane’s office, Danni realized she’d been had.

  Danni had another meeting that day, with her ex-husband Mike, that she had put off for as long as she could. They met at The Swamp.

  Danni was already sitting at a table when he arrived. She had gotten there early so she could pick out a spot where she felt comfortable, a table by the window, away from the bar and the crowd, looking out on the patio with College Avenue in the background. They could talk privately here.

  Mike, a very successful pharmaceutical salesman, was dressed in a tailored blue suit with a pink shirt and lavender tie. He was always a bit of a dandy, Danni thought as she watched him walk to the table. He had a smile on his face and a look of confidence as if seeing him made it her lucky day. An objective observer would say he was a handsome man with thick black hair and a muscular physique, but Danni no longer saw him that way. He leaned over the table and kissed her on the cheek.

  Danni cringed at his touch.

  “So what is it that you needed to see me about?” Mike asked. “And how is our lovely daughter? I’m looking forward to my time with her this weekend.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Mike.”

  “What? Is something wrong with Hannah?”

  “No. She’s fine. She’s just not here.”

  “I know she’s not here. She’s at school, right?”

  “No. She’s not here in the state of Florida.”

  Danni told him what happened at Whiskey River Springs and how she had had to take Hannah out of school. She even told him where his daughter was. She had debated about that in her own mind for some time but decided that he had a right to know. He was her father, after all. Not a very good one but still her father. Danni made sure she kept her voice low so nobody could possibly hear that particular part of the conversation.

  “You can’t say anything to anybody about where she is. Secrecy is her only protection.”

  “I can protect my own daughter,” he said haughtily.

  Danni didn’t reply.

  Mike’s smile was now gone, replaced by a sneer. “You had to be a cop, didn’t you? You had to go out there in a man’s world and prove yourself no matter what.”

  Danni had figured it was going to get ugly although she didn’t know what Mike’s weapon of choice for today’s battle would be until that moment.

  “This isn’t about me, Mike.”

  “Oh, yes it is, Danni. How many other cops are there on your task force? How many of them are women? Who else’s children have been threatened? It’s definitely about you, Danni. It’s always been about you.”

  There was some truth to the statement but so what? This conversation was about Hannah and her safety. She wasn’t going to let it deteriorate into another discussion about why their marriage had failed.

  You slept with other women, you asshole! Remember?

  “Look, Mike, I don’t want to argue with you. I just want you to know what happened and where Hannah Jane is. You can call her anytime you like.”

  “I know that,” Mike snapped. “And when this is over, we’re going to revisit the issue of custody. Your house is a dangerous environment.”

  “Fine,” Danni said and stood up to leave. “Thanks for your concern.”

  She smiled to herself as she walked out of the restaurant. He wouldn’t dare ask for custody. It would interfere too much with his social life.

  Chapter Ten

  Alice Jeffries was a lonely woman these days. Her husband, Sam, was spending fourteen- to sixteen-hour days at the office with the occasional middle-of-the-night rendezvous at murder sites around the city of Oakville. It had started the night of the first murder four months ago. Sam ran the homicide division at the Sheriff’s Department. If all the murders are in Oakville, why is my husband, a captain in the Apache County Sheriff’s Department, responsible for solving them when Oakville has its own police department? Alice asked herself, usually in the middle of the night when he had gone out to a scene and she was left alone in their bed. She knew the answer, but she asked the question anyway because she was angry and exasperated.

  Oakville was in Apache County so it was part of the sheriff’s jurisdiction. Besides, this case was a different animal. Hell, the FBI was here. And Sam was now the head of the whole investigation. That acknowledgment didn’t make her feel one bit better. Oh, she was proud of Sam, but this murderer was killing their marriage along with those coeds. I guess I’m being a little selfish, she told herself from time to time.

  Alice was the second-grade teacher at White Springs Elementary School, a five-minute drive from her house. She went to work at seven every weekday morning during the school year and was home at four most days. Before the murders had begun, she would often meet Sam as he was pulling into the driveway, his job hours being as predictable as hers. They’d married when they were both twenty. It was a shotgun wedding with little Johnny arriving six months later. Kathleen was born two years after that. The kids had gone off to college now and were pursuing their own careers, Johnny in D.C., and Kathleen in Miami. At the ripe old age of forty-five, Alice was living in the proverbial empty nest.

  It was fine when she and Sam were on the same schedule. They’d go out for a bite to eat, maybe a movie if they felt up to it. Or they’d prepare a meal together at home. Cooking was a hobby they both enjoyed. After the first murder, Sam started working ungodly hours. Alice just went home and amused herself with a good book or the television. A couple of months later, however, she’d taken to going out a night or two during the weekend with some of her girlfriends from work. Nothing fancy, just a few drinks at the local tavern. She overdid it a few times, but not very often. It was awkward at first since most people knew she was the wife of a captain in the Sheriff’s Department. But after a while she fit right in. She’d always get home early, well before Sam arrived.

  Alice was a petite, pretty woman, with short brown hair and green eyes, and she maintained her figure with a strict diet and regular exercise on her home treadmill. She and Sam made an odd couple because he was so massive. Many times when they were out to eat she’d catch people looking at the two of them. She knew what they were wondering. Yeah, I get on top, she’d wanted to say, and it’s great.

  This Saturday night, she’d had a little too much at the bar because a man she’d never met before—actually, she didn’t even meet him that night—kept sending over drinks for her and her girlfriends. She’d swerved a little bit on the five-block drive back to the house. Keep it steady, she told herself. Sam would not be too happy if you got a DUI. Fuck you, Sam. No fuck me, Sam. Please. Just so I can remember what it feels like once again before I die.

  It was a tad overdramatic, she knew. After all it had only been four months and there was a reason for it. Poor Sam was working his ass off, night and day. Some couples their age never had sex. She stumbl
ed out of the car and up to the doorway. It took her almost two minutes to get the key into the door. She chuckled to herself as she kept missing the keyhole. Finally she was in. She slammed the door behind her and headed upstairs to the bedroom. When Sam got home, she wanted to be asleep. You can’t question a sleeping beauty, she reasoned.

  Standing in the bathroom in her bra and panties brushing her teeth with her eyes closed, Alice started dreaming about this guy she’d met at the bar a couple of weeks back. He’d asked her to dance. She’d refused, of course, but she’d wanted to and now she pictured herself on the dance floor twirling around, carefree. You’re not an old maid, she told herself as she swayed to the imaginary music. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.

  She didn’t see the lights go out because her eyes were closed and she was more than a little drunk. In her dreamlike state, she didn’t even hear the click of the switch. The first sign of trouble for Alice was when she felt a sharp pain at her throat. Suddenly she was yanked off the ground by something around her neck. She opened her eyes then but couldn’t see anything. She felt him behind her and tried to turn and grab him, but she had no leverage. The pain was unbearable now. She was gasping for breath and flailing her arms. Whatever it was around her neck was cutting her badly. She tried to grab hold of it and release the pressure but she couldn’t. It was a wire! She made a last-ditch effort to scratch his face but it was too late. She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.

  Sam came home a half hour later. He headed for the kitchen and made himself a ham sandwich. Then he turned on the TV in the living room and watched it for an hour or so before heading up to bed. As he flipped on the light switch in the bathroom to take his last piss of the evening, he almost fell over Alice’s corpse.

  “Jesus!” he exclaimed, recoiling from the body on the floor. He could feel himself starting to hyperventilate as Alice’s cold dead eyes seemed to stare right at him. Then the cop took over. He knelt down and checked her pulse. There was no doubt she was dead. He called 911 and made his report. After that, he checked the entire house for clues.