Murder Made Legal: A Casey Alton Mystery

by Richard Wren

  “How about how you got the state senator to turn himself in to the police in Sacramento? Don’t sell yourself short; I can’t think of any D.A. investigators that could’ve done that. Anyhow, you’re my choice, and it’ll save a lot of money.”

  Casey sat in silence for a few minutes while Josie stewed. He was reviewing all the actions of the previous year she was referring to and gradually remembering that many of his ideas had resulted in him and Smitty successfully beating a murder charge. In fact, the two of them had turned out to be a good detective team. Then he remembered how much help Gus had been in their investigations. Gus had provided panache. A graceful touch that had proved invaluable at times. That decided him. He could do it. He would do it, for Gus. Once decided in his mind, he jumped to how and when.

  “Okay. I’ll do it, but I’ll do it my way.”

  Josie hadn’t expected that. A little sharply, she replied. “What’s that mean, you won’t work for me?”

  Casey reached out and stopped her pacing so that she stood facing him, arms on her hips.

  “Not for, with. We’ll be a team, a partnership. What do you think about including your dad? I think he needs to be included, don’t you?”

  “Actually you’re right. Right now, he’s overwhelmed by the whole thing. It’s like the calm before the storm; pretty soon he’ll start getting mad and doing something foolish. If you and he could work together like last year, it’d be great.”

  “That’s my read too. But, Josie, there’s one big problem. If you’re the attorney of record, you have to be clean and above ground on every aspect of your defense, right? Some of the things your dad and Gus and I did last year were legally questionable at least. We’re going to need a free hand. Can you handle that?”

  Josie had been a reluctant bystander to some of the shenanigans that the three had pulled off the previous year. She had walked a tightrope between her responsibilities as an assistant D.A. and her loyalty to her father. The thought had already crossed her mind, and she was prepared.

  “We’ll work together on planning all the moves. If I desperately need something to defend Gus, I’ll tell you what I need and leave it up to you two how you get it. Just bear in mind that it’s your wife and Dad’s daughter plus poor Gus that may have to pay the price if you screw up. Okay?”

  “Got it. Shall I get your dad in?”

  A little later, after much discussion, the decision was finalized. Josie composed and sent a letter of resignation, and the three agreed to the working plan. Smitty was anxious to do something like storming the jail, but was persuaded against his will to abide by the law, at least temporarily. Josie used practicality to persuade him to wait.

  “There’s nothing we can do, either legally or practically, until morning. The single best thing we can do for Gus is to get a good night’s sleep and start early in the morning.” Reluctantly, Smitty agreed.

  There was one more thing Josie wanted to try, but didn’t want to get her dad’s hopes up only to dash them.

  It was now eleven at night. She needed to make a phone call; she needed to call Judge Hopper. The retired judge was one of the most admired jurors in the state and an old friend and advisor for her. His experience, knowledge and patience were legendary; she knew she could rely on him to help her come to the right decision. She also knew he was a night owl, staying up until the wee hours reading every night. He also was a was a well know curmudgeon. He might just cut her short depending on his mood. All she could do was try.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Judge? Judge Hopper?” Josie immediately assumed that the gruff male voice that had answered the phone was her old friend and counselor. She rushed to blurt out, “Judge, this is Josie, I need your help.”

  “Josie? What’re you doing calling me so late in the evening? And why the excitement? Calm down, Josie. What’s happening?”

  Josie took a deep breath and explained what had happened to Gus and how she was being involved.

  “What time is it?” the judge asked.

  “Almost eleven, Judge. I knew you’d still be up and hoped you wouldn’t mind a call this late.”

  “Why don’t you come over and we’ll talk this out. It’s just about time for some good port wine, and company makes it better.”

  Josie wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I’ll be right over,” she said as she shrugged into a jacket.

  In less than a half hour, she was sitting before the judge in his living room. She remembered the room so well. At this hour, the lighting was dimmed, with a fire providing much of the light. They sat in large leather, wingback chairs facing each other and the fireplace. She felt so comfortable sitting in such a familiar room. The wainscoting, the framed paintings, the furniture were all just as she remembered them.

  “Judge, I did something I’m not sure was right. I sent a letter of resignation to the D.A.’s office and agreed to take on Gus’s defense. It seemed like the only thing to do, but now I’m not sure I’m up to getting him out on bail and defending him in a murder charge.”

  The judge took his time opening a fancy humidor-of pipe tobacco, loading his pipe and tamping the tobacco down. She was accustomed to his habits and knew he was digesting her remarks and would answer them in his own good time. He made a great picture as he stalled. Old-fashioned elegance, she decided. Leather slippers, creased trousers topped with a paisley smoking jacket, lined but handsome face topped with not much hair, it could be a scene in a movie. He was in his eighties, but could pass for seventy easily. She waited.

  Eventually he cleared his throat, pointed the stem of his pipe at her, and then harrumphed. “Let me see. Seems like you’re asking me two questions, maybe three? One is whether you should have resigned from the D.A.s office. Another is whether you’re capable of mounting a successful defense for Gus, and then I think there’s a third question in there, too. I think you’re asking me if I might help in getting Gus out on bail. Am I right?”

  “You’re as perceptive as ever, aren’t you?” She laughed, paused for a second, and then added, “But you’re right.”

  Now the judge resumed tamping the tobacco down as he eyed her speculatively. Then in a very deliberate tone of voice, but with a twinkle in his eye pronounced his judgment.

  “Yes, yes, and no.”

  Josie laughed again, rose up, and said, “Couldn’t you be a little more concise?” Then added, “I guess you’re saying I should have resigned from the D.A.’s office, and that you think I’m ready to become a defense attorney, but that you can’t help Gus get out on bail.?”

  “To answer your long and convoluted question, yes that is correct.”

  “Is there any way I can get the judge to set bail?”

  The judge contemplated the bowl of his pipe as he studied her question. Finally, in a friendly but lecturing tone he said, “Josie, you aren’t listening to me. What was the answer I gave to your second question?”

  “I guess the second question was whether in your judgment I’m ready to become a defense attorney, and your answer was yes?”

  The judge didn’t answer her, merely stared at her as he was willing her to continue.

  She thought for a minute then said, “You want me to draw my own conclusions?”

  He remained silent.

  “You’re saying that you think I’m ready to take on a murder case defense, and that if I’m ready, as you think I am, I should be able to figure out how to get Gus out on bail without your help?”

  The Judge rose out of his chair and said “I think it’s time for a celebratory port, don’t you?”

  In his inimitable style the judge had forced her to make her own decisions and reinforced it by letting her realize that he agreed with her decisions. He had also let her know that he thought she should fight for Gus’s freedom, including the bail problem.

  CHAPTER 9

  A little after seven the next morning she phoned Marilyn and tried to talk to her about the resignation. Marilyn immediately interrupted her.


  “You did it. The whole office’s up in arms. The boss doesn’t know whether to be happy you’re leaving or mad that you’ll be appearing against him. The rest of us are sorry you’re leaving.”

  “Marilyn, that’s why I called, how’d you like to come with me?”

  A long silence ensued. “You mean quit here and work for you full time?”

  “Exactly that. I can equal your pay and make sure you get equal benefits if you don’t mind being on the other side of the fence. I know it’s a big step. You don’t have to answer right away. Take your time, maybe three or four minutes?” Josie giggled.

  “Get out of this rat race? I’d probably pay you for the job if necessary.”

  “Super, super,” Josie responded. “Don’t tell anyone yet, okay? I’ll see you a little later when I come in to beard Gordon in his den.”

  Boy, I’m really committed now, Josie commented to herself as she hung up on Marilyn.

  At ten, Marilyn merely raised her eyebrows at her as Josie walked past her desk on the way to Gordon’s office.

  “Hello Gordon, I presume you got my memo?”

  He ignored her and continued making notes on a piece of paper.

  She stepped into the office and repeated the question.

  He finally slapped the pencil down on the desk and looked up at her. “Well?” He angrily answered. Surprised, Josie took a moment and tried to appraise the D.A.’s attitude. His hair was ruffled as if he had been rubbing his head, and when he whipped off his glasses to talk, she saw anger in his eyes. His chin was up; very combative.

  “Did you get my memo?” she repeated.

  “I got it.” He blustered. “And let me tell you something, young lady. It made my day. In my opinion, you never should have been hired in the first place. Not coming from the family you come from. And something else, don’t expect any favors or cooperation from my office. As far as I’m concerned, you are persona non grata in this office, and I’ve instructed the office to ignore your requests.”

  Josie was shocked at the anger in his voice. She was just an assistant district attorney; they quit all the time. She had no idea that he held her family against her so much. She tried to accept the tirade with calmness and satiric grace.

  “Thanks, Gordon, I always knew you’d be professional in your attitude if I decided to leave. By the way, I’ll be opposing you in the Dalziel trial, in case you hadn’t heard.”

  Silence. Josie knew she’d struck a nerve and she wasn’t through. Oh God, he will really blow his stack on my next piece of news, she thought.

  “Oh yes, I almost forgot. I’m taking Marilyn with me.”

  Gordon stared at her. His expression was frozen. He was obviously straining to restrain his anger. Suddenly, he reached out and pushed an intercom button on the edge of his desk.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I want this woman escorted out of my offices at once.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me. Get that cop in here, and get this lady out.”

  Josie knew the cop, and he knew her. Both were embarrassed by Mason’s actions. Both made the best of the situation as he technically obeyed the order, but the two of them walked out together as friends.

  On the drive home, Josie tried to understand her boss’s reaction. It seemed to her as if he took her leaving personally. At the very least, it had been disproportionate to what she was doing. She had to assume that he meant what he had said and that she wasn’t going to get any cooperation from the D.A.’s office. Now, a very smart, experienced attorney was mad at her personally, and she was probably going to have to face him in court. She would have to be good and lucky to beat him.

  At home, she found Casey waiting at the door, full of questions.

  “Gordon’s not happy you’re leaving?”

  “Au contraire. He says he’s ecstatic about my leaving, and I should never have been hired in the first place.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Come to think about it, that S.O.B. threatened me. He effectively told me he wouldn’t recognize my status as a defense attorney and would cut me off from the regular avenues of communication with the D.A.’s office. Oh yeah, he was really happy about my taking Marilyn with me,” she said derisively.

  Casey had only met Marilyn once or twice at the D.A.’s office. The main thing he remembered about her was how she continually and absent-mindedly twiddled a pencil around her fingers as she talked.

  “He sounds like a prick.”

  Josie quickly agreed with his assessment. “Yes, he is, but he’s a damn good attorney, and he sure isn’t giving me any information on the case.”

  “What’d you find out about Gus?”

  “Not a thing. You and Dad and I need to go to the jail and see Gus. I’m really worried about his state of mind. While I’m there, I want to find out what the actual evidence is. Gordon thinks he has a slam dunk case and no matter what I think of him personally, he’s a damn good prosecuting attorney. It’s going to be a hell of an uphill battle I hope to God I’m up to it.

  CHAPTER 10

  At the jail, Smitty made a visible effort to be upbeat and confidant that Gus would be out of jail soon. Gus wasn’t so sure. He was depressed just by being there. Everything was gray and monotonous, and not too clean. Josie knew it was a shock to Gus’s fastidiousness. She was shocked at his appearance. Ordinarily, Gus was the very picture of sartorial elegance, sporting a vest, bowtie, and hair handsomely coiffed, and sparkling blue eyes. He had parlayed his good looks and well educated command of the English language into becoming a masterful con artist. Now he had on prison orange. His hair was straggly, and his complexion was gray. He looked as if he had aged ten years. He was obviously dejected.

  “They sat me down in a room and tried to get me to confess to something I didn’t do. They told me that with DNA evidence, they had irrefutable evidence of my blood being on a shirt that was being worn by a man killed many years ago and that I might as well confess.”

  Josie, as his attorney was visibly agitated. “I hope you didn’t reply to them.”

  Gus replied with a slightly disdainful look, “I told them I had no idea what they were talking about.”

  “Excellent,” Josie replied.

  Gus exploded to his feet and started pacing. “What the hell’s excellent about it? I’m dead and you know it. They went on and on telling me that DNA doesn’t lie and I was as good as convicted until I told them I wanted to see my attorney. Somebody, somehow got my blood on something incriminating and no one beats DNA evidence.” He stopped directly in front of Josie. “Right, Josie?”

  Josey bluntly replied. “DNA evidence is usually thought of as unbeatable, yes. I need to find out what the evidence is, and then we can start figuring out how to beat this.”

  Gus slowly sank down onto a bench, put his head in his hands, and muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

  Smitty walked over to him, put his hand on his shoulder, and said, “We’ll think of something.” Josey silently signaled they needed to leave.

  In the parking lot, Smitty, visibly shaken and with a catch in his voice said, “It’s hopeless, isn’t it!”

  Gus was her dad’s oldest friend; the bond between them was deep and her dad had always had trouble vocalizing any affection. He might be crying on the inside, but would conceal it with outward bravado. His statement and trouble speaking now was an indication of how deeply he was affected by Gus’s incarceration.

  “It’ll be okay, Dad.” She hugged him.

  “No it won’t,” he argued. “Like the D.A. said, ‘you can’t argue with DNA.’ Don’t try to bullshit me; there’s nothing we can do.”

  Josie was frightened. She had never seen her dad so down. Usually, he was the personification of up, always everyone else’s strength. Here he was, almost reduced to tears.

  She looked beseechingly to Casey and raised her shoulders questioningly.

  Casey took the situation in and reacted. He insinuated himself between Smitty and Josey, grabbed Smitty by both shoulde
rs, shook him with all his strength, and asked a question. “Are you giving up on Gus?”

  Smitty violently threw Casey’s arms off of his shoulders and angrily said, “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “Casey looked him in the eye and said, “You asked for it. You said there’s nothing we can do!”

  “The District Attorney himself said it. How the hell can we beat the D.A.?”

  Casey swore for the shock value. “Fuck the D.A. Josie says she can beat him. Didn’t you Josie!”

  Josie, who had said no such thing, had to agree. “We can do it, Dad. There is precedence, and we know Gus’s innocent. Sure we can do it. Besides, I made Gordon lose his cool today at the office; all I have to do is get him to do the same thing in court, and we’ll win.

  Smitty dropped his arms to his side and stared at the pair of them for a moment as if transfixed. Finally, he drew a deep breath, blinked his eyes, and punched Casey on the shoulder. Then with his customary resilience, said, “Well, I got that out of my system, now what?”

  With a sigh of relief, Josey quickly took command. “Back to the house and develop a strategy.”

  In the car, Josie was silent, developing a strategy for what little they now knew about the case against Gus with the limited resources they had.

  Smitty was in favor of some sort of direct action. “Nuts to this waiting around; we gotta’ do something.”

  Casey pushed a chair under him and ignored his outburst. “Okay, what do we do?”

  “Lots. Dad and you should contact one of his old police buddies and see what the two of you can find out about the original murder case.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Not a stranger to murder mysteries on T.V. Casey immediately picked up on the idea. “You mean try to find out who the original detectives were and what the case was all about, and maybe find out if they’re still around?”

  “That’s it. I hope the brotherhood of motorcyclists transcends the gap between the gang and the police; it has in the past.”

  “Easier done than said,” was Smitty’s response. “How far back we talkin’ about?”