Dark Justice

by William Bernhardt

  Granny didn’t hold back. “And why would he want to plant a bomb? To further the environmental cause?”

  “Nah.” Rick’s lips turned down at the edges. “To get Dwayne Gardiner.”

  The air in the courtroom seemed to become thick, heavy, as if everyone and everything were suspended in time.

  “Let me make sure I understand you, Mr. Collier. Are you saying Zakin planted the bomb with the express intention of harming Mr. Gardiner?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “And why would he want to do that?”

  Rick glanced up at the judge, the jury, out into the gallery—almost everywhere except at Zak. “Because he was sleeping with Gardiner’s wife.”

  If the reaction in the courtroom had been audible before, it was near deafening now. Several people—reporters, probably—leaped to their feet and headed out the back doors to spread the word of this major new development. Whispering and gossiping went from a buzz to a roar. Judge Pickens pounded his gavel furiously, threatening to clear the courtroom, trying to restore order.

  Ben took advantage of the momentary chaos to have a short, curt conversation with his client. He was so angry he could barely speak. “You told me you didn’t know Gardiner,” he said bitterly. “You said you had no connection to him.”

  “But I didn’t!” Zak said, imploringly. “I never met him till that night in the bar. It was his wife—”

  Ben placed his hand on his forehead. This was just hopeless.

  As soon as the courtroom was quiet enough for her to proceed, Granny did so. “And how do you know Mr. Zakin was having an affair with Lu Ann Gardiner?”

  “He told me,” Rick replied. “Hell, he told me frequently. I gotta tell you, Zak may be a great environmentalist, but when it comes to women, he’s kind of a pig. Of the chauvinist variety.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He was constantly trying to pick up women, in some of the sleaziest ways you can imagine. He’d lie, cheat, steal—whatever it took.”

  “And is this how he attracted the attention of Mrs. Gardiner?”

  “More or less, yeah.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was there when it happened. I was in the bar when he first picked her up.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Oh, about three weeks before the murder. Apparently they really hit it off, ’cause they were banging away”—he stopped, looked up at the judge—“oh—excuse me. They were, uh, engaging in, uh, carnal relations every chance they got. Zak was having a great time. Till the angry husband found out.”

  “And when was that?”

  “Just before the murder. Zak found out when Gardiner met him outside the bathroom at Bunyan’s.”

  “Were you there?”

  “No. But Zak told me all about it. Told me Gardiner was acting real weird, almost crazy-like. Said he threatened Zak, so Zak threatened back.”

  “Was Mr. Zakin disturbed by this encounter?”

  “Very. Zak has a short temper, and he was having too much fun with Lu Ann to give her up. So he started thinking of ways to put the husband—Gardiner—out of the picture.”

  “To put him out of the picture—permanently?”

  “That’s what I think happened, yeah.”

  “And why do you think that? Did you see him plant the bomb?”

  “Unfortunately, no. But I did see him leave camp that night with a full backpack. In retrospect, I realize the bomb was probably stuffed in there. And he left with something else—the Sasquatch suit.”

  “That’s a lie!” Zak hissed in Ben’s ear.

  Granny blinked. “The Sasquatch suit?”

  Rick nodded. “Right.”

  “Did that belong to Green Rage or to George Zakin?”

  “Well, actually, there were two of them. We had one when Zak came, but he didn’t think it looked real enough, as if he was an expert on what Bigfoot really looks like. So he bought his own.”

  “And why would he leave with the suit in the middle of the night?”

  “Zak loved running around in that costume, hovering around the periphery of campsites, trying to bait poor suckers into calling in Bigfoot sightings. He had this idea that if enough of those calls came in, the Forest Service would have to take them seriously. And if the forest was identified as the habitat of an endangered species, logging would have to stop.”

  “That’s a lie!” Zak shouted, springing to his feet.

  Pickens pounded his gavel furiously. Ben grabbed Zak’s arm and pulled him back into his chair.

  “Mr. Kincaid—” Pickens started.

  “I’ll take care of it, your honor.” He gave Zak a look that spoke volumes. Stay in your seat and shut up!

  Granny continued. “What time did Mr. Zakin leave the Green Rage campsite?”

  “It was a little after midnight.”

  “And do you know when he returned?”

  “Sure. I was still up. It was around two in the morning.”

  “Two in the morning,” Granny repeated. “Shortly after the murder. Thank you, Mr. Collier. No more questions.”

  Ben looked up and saw every face in the courtroom, including those in the jury box, staring his way. But they weren’t looking at him—they were looking past him, at Zak.

  And Ben knew why. Before, there might have been some measure of doubt in the brains behind those eyes. But not any longer, not after this testimony. Now every one of them thought they were staring into the eyes of a coldblooded killer.

  Chapter 55

  ZAK GRABBED BEN’S SHOULDER just as he was rising to cross. “He’s jealous,” Zak whispered.

  Ben froze. At the moment he really didn’t want a damn thing to do with this client of his. But he supposed he had to listen. “Jealous?”

  “Sure. That’s what this is all about. He’s always been jealous. Jealous ’cause they made me the top man on the team—promoted me over him. Jealous ’cause I was always able to get the chicks—and he couldn’t. You think he was in that bar just for a tall cool one? He was trying to get laid. But it never happened. I could do it; he couldn’t. Plus, I had kind of a side thing with Molly, and he was pissed about that. Plus, he’s sweet on Deirdre.”

  “Deirdre?”

  “Right. He wants her bad. But she’s not interested. And”—he fell silent for a moment—“he thinks, anyway, that she and I are … intimate. That’s why he’s turned on me.”

  Ben nodded, then walked to the podium. It was possible, of course. God knows Rick must have some motive for turning on his friend and colleague, and that could be it.

  Or, Ben mused, it could just be that Rick thinks Zak is a murderer and he has a moral obligation to tell what he knows. A disturbing possibility.

  Ben cut to the chase. “Mr. Collier, it’s a fact that you and Zak have been close friends, isn’t it?”

  “We’ve worked closely together. I never considered him a friend.”

  “Did he consider you a friend?”

  “I don’t know. Probably.”

  “Do you think he trusted you?”

  “I don’t know.” Rick pulled himself up, almost defiantly. “If he trusted me not to tell that he murdered someone, then he made a mistake. I don’t countenance murder, not for any cause. And I won’t cover it up, either.”

  Ben frowned. This wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “Isn’t it true that you were jealous of your friend Zak’s … success with women? A success you never had.”

  “Absolutely not. I thought he was a sexist slimeball. Sure, I like women, and I like to be with them. But not if it means treating women in that abusive, degrading way. Leading them on. Lying. Trying to make it with three different women at once. I just won’t do it.”

  Swell, Ben thought. Strike two. What could he try next?

  “What about Deirdre? The dendrochronologist on the Green Rage team?”

  Rick’s eye twitched. “What about her?”

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you? You wanted her. And Z
ak had her. Not you.”

  Rick took a deep breath, then released it. “It’s true that I think Deirdre deserves something better than that … philandering pig who can’t keep his zipper zipped. But then, I think every woman deserves better than that. And besides, I’m involved with someone else.”

  Ben sighed. Strike three—and you’re outta there. He was going to have to try a different approach. Nothing he said was going to make the jury forget what they’d heard from this witness. The most he could hope for was to give them something else equally memorable. “Mr. Collier, you understand the difference between fact and supposition, don’t you?”

  “Sure.”

  “When you’re testifying, you’re supposed to give the jury facts. But I noticed that a lot of times, you were giving them supposition—which is a nice way of saying you were just guessing.”

  “Is this a question?” Granny asked.

  “I’ll get to it.” Ben flipped hurriedly through the notes he had taken during Rick’s direct examination. “For instance, you said that you were certain Zak built and planted the bomb that killed Gardiner. But you didn’t actually see him make the bomb, did you?”

  “Well, no.”

  “And you didn’t see him plant the bomb.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You never actually saw him with a bomb in his hands.”

  “No. But his backpack—”

  “His backpack was filled with something. But you don’t know what it was. It might’ve been a bomb, or it might’ve been his dirty laundry. You don’t actually know, right?”

  “Well, I think we can assume—”

  “So now you’re assuming, is that right? And assuming, of course, is just another word for guessing.”

  “I thought it was logical—”

  “You weren’t put on the stand to play Sherlock Holmes, sir. You were called to tell what you knew. What you knew. And you don’t know what Zak had in his backpack, right?”

  “I suppose.”

  “And you don’t know if he made or planted that bomb, right?”

  Rick caught his breath, took a few moments to think. “He told me he was going to take Gardiner out of the picture.”

  “Did he? Were those his words? Or yours?”

  Rick bit down on his lips. “Well, I don’t remember his exact words.”

  “You’d better, because this is absolutely critical. We need to know if Zak really said this or if it’s something that came out of your imagination. What did Zak actually say?”

  Rick paused. Ben could almost see the wheels turning inside his brain. “I think what he actually said was ‘I’m going to take care of Gardiner.’ ”

  “Take care of him? Now that’s quite a bit different, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not really.”

  “Take care of him could mean anything. That could mean he’s going to let the air out of Gardiner’s tires or pour a beer down his pants. Or stop seeing his wife.”

  “Well, given what happened—”

  “Aha!” Ben pointed across the podium. “Now we get to the truth of the matter. You’re not testifying about what you know. You’re filling in the blanks of what you don’t know, based on what happened later.”

  “It’s common sense—”

  “It is not common sense. It’s attitude. You could’ve filled in the gaps in such a way as to exonerate your friend. But instead you chose to do it in a way that would crucify him.”

  Granny rose to her feet. “Your honor, he’s not questioning the witness.”

  Ben continued unabated. “That was a decision you made, Rick, not him. You decided to paint Zak in the worst way possible. And why, I wonder? Could it be because he was promoted over you and made head of this Green Rage team? Could it be that you thought with him executed, you’d have Deirdre all to yourself?”

  “Your honor!” Granny shouted. “This witness is not on trial.”

  Judge Pickens pounded his gavel. “I’ve had enough of this, Kincaid. Sit down.”

  “What about it, Rick?” Ben continued, shouting over the din. “Tell us why you turned Judas on your best friend! Tell us why you’re so desperate to get him out of the way!”

  “Kincaid! Sit down!” Judge Pickens had risen to his full height. He was towering over the bench, his arms outstretched. He looked like he was about to throw the gavel across the room like a tomahawk. “This examination is over!”

  Ben folded up his notebook and returned to his table. He just hoped his dramatic demonstration had some impact with the jury.

  Ben’s eyes met Christina’s. They didn’t have to speak; he knew what they were both thinking. The jury had it all now: means, opportunity—and motive. It would’ve been a stretch to make the jury believe Gardiner was killed just because he was a logger cutting down trees. But a malicious adulterer taking out a jealous husband? That was altogether too easy. That had the ring of truth to it.

  The very dangerous ring of truth.

  Chapter 56

  AFTER A MUCH-NEEDED fifteen-minute break, Judge Pickens reassembled the court for the last witness of the day. The last witness the prosecution was going to call.

  And thank God for that, Ben thought. Could it possibly get any worse than this?

  As it turned out, it could.

  “The State calls Marco Geppi to the stand.”

  Ben watched as Geppi was escorted to the front of the courtroom. Ben knew he had been Rick’s cellmate in the county jail for the last several days, but Zak had sworn that he hadn’t known the man before and that he hadn’t told him anything incriminating, so Ben hadn’t worried about it. At this point, however, it was becoming increasingly clear to Ben that Zak’s word wasn’t worth a hell of a lot. And he also had learned that Granny didn’t do anything for no reason. If she wanted to put this man on the stand—as the last witness in her case, no less—that was reason enough to worry.

  Geppi wasn’t wearing prison greens, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him in them, either. His hair was unkempt and his chin was stubbled. Had Granny decided cleaning him up wasn’t worth the trouble? Or had she perhaps decided he would be more convincing if he looked like exactly what he was?

  “Would you state your name, please?” Ben noticed that Granny wasn’t smiling; for once, she was not suggesting to the jury that this witness was her friend.

  Geppi cleared his throat, slumped forward slightly. “Marco Geppi.”

  “And where do you live?”

  “At the moment, here in Magic Valley.”

  “And where do you currently reside?”

  Geppi cleared his throat. “Cell Five of the county jail.”

  That got the jurors’ attention. “Why are you there?”

  “I’ve been arrested. Possession of an illegal substance.”

  “Narcotics?” Granny was smart enough to get all the dirt out early, rather than to leave it for Ben to make hay about on cross.

  “Yeah. That’s the charge, anyway.”

  “And is anyone else currently residing in the county jail?”

  “Yeah. Since I arrived, there’s been a guy in the cell next to me. Him.” He pointed across the courtroom. “George Zakin. He told me to call him Zak.”

  “Did you know Mr. Zakin beforehand?”

  “No. Never met the guy.”

  “Had you heard of his organization—Green Rage?”

  “Can’t say as I had.” He bowed apologetically toward the jury. “I don’t read the papers much.”

  “Well then,” Granny continued, “in the time that you’ve spent with Mr. Zakin, have you come to like him?”

  “Oh, he’s all right. Kind of a chatterbox. If I’ve got to be that close to someone for that long, I usually prefer it to be someone who ain’t so fond of talking.”

  Some of the jurors smiled.

  Granny crossed to the jury side of the podium. “What exactly does Mr. Zakin like to talk about?”

  “He’s probably gotten to ’bout everything at one time or another.”

&
nbsp; Granny allowed herself a grin. “Can you identify some of his favorite themes?”

  “Oh, you know. Trees are dyin’ all over the world and soon there won’t be any left. Magic Valley may have the world’s largest cedar. Loggers are all dimwits and scumbags. That sort of thing.”

  “I see. Did he by any chance mention the murder incident that caused him to be incarcerated?”

  Ben felt a cold clutching at the base of his spine. He’d prepared enough witnesses for direct to know that nothing is left to chance. You don’t ask a question unless you know the answer—and like it.

  “Oh, yeah. In great detail.”

  Ben could see the jurors ever so slightly inching forward. They understood now why this witness had been called. And they were anxious to hear what he had to say.

  “And why would he talk to you?”

  “Well, in part, ’cause he was bored, and in part, I think, ’cause he likes to brag. He’s pretty fond of talkin’ about himself, or so it seemed to me. I don’t know why. Maybe he thought if he made himself out to be the big man, I’d be less likely to hassle him.”

  “For instance, what did he say?”

  “Well, he bragged about how good he was with bombs, how many bombs he’s planted to blow up loggers’ equipment and stuff. Man, that boy hates loggers—just hates ’em. His face gets all twisted up and weird every time he talks about them. He’s kinda crazy on the subject.”

  Ben heard a whispering in his ear. “This isn’t true,” Zak said. “This conversation never happened.”

  Granny continued her examination. “Did he mention any specific crimes?”

  “Well, he mentioned some logger named Gardiner.”

  “Gardiner?” Granny repeated. “Dwayne Gardiner?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Man, he really had it in for that poor chump.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Yeah. He told me all about it. Told me he’d been drill—er, um, you know … sleeping with the man’s wife.”

  “He told you this?” Granny reiterated. “The defendant himself told you this?”

  “Oh, yeah. In great detail. More than I wanted to hear. He told me about all the positions they tried and all the kinky stuff they did. I’m no prude, but even I was kinda grossed out by some of it.”