"Oh, he's connected alright. We just don't know to what extent. We know that Jade is Kim-Ly’s younger sister who has lived in at least two houses that have gone into foreclosure. We know Scott Le is the one who signs off on the foreclosed houses so other people can enter and ready them for sale or rent. He'd have to know if someone was living there unless he is a total bumbling idiot."
Sabre shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe he is. What if he’s not doing his job? Maybe he’s passing his authority to sign off on the houses to someone else and that person is the one using them. Perhaps the sewing machine houses and the dry cleaners have nothing to do with Kim-Ly."
"Maybe," JP said. "I need to find the guy in the black car. I’ll bet that’ll give us the answers we need."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"I don't know yet."
"We go to trial in two days and I can't recommend anything until we have some answers. How can we prove Kim-Ly's real age? She has documentation that says she's twenty-one, but if she’s a minor we need to provide her with a whole different set of services. And then there's Jade, or Bich, or whatever her name is. I know she's not our responsibility, but something’s going on in those houses, something’s that’s not kosher. The problem is we don't have evidence of anything illegal.
"No, not yet," JP said. He waited a moment to allow Sabre’s impatience to dissipate. "I have some more information on the Durham case."
Sabre shook her head in frustration. "Do I want to hear it?"
"Probably not."
"Tell me anyway."
"Ralph lied about being with Matt the night Hannah and Mason were killed. Ralph was at The Handle Bar in Kearny Mesa. He only claimed to be with Matt because Matt asked him to give him an alibi."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he's dumber than a bag of hammers."
"Or he's an accomplice," Sabre conjectured.
"I considered that and I haven't ruled it out yet. I just haven't had a chance to check with the bar where Ralph claimed to be."
Sabre slumped slightly in her chair. She had too many cases without answers, decisions that needed to be made, and not enough information to know how to deal with them. The Tran case was wrought with all kinds of problems. Matt's 702 hearing was quickly approaching and she had little to fight with to keep him in juvenile court. She had a psychological report but no doctor to support it since Dr. Heller remained in a coma. In a way, that could work in Matt's favor if she could get the DA to let the report in without testimony. She knew Dr. Heller had concerns about Matt, too.
And then there was the decision she had to make about whether or not to keep Matt's case if she lost the 702 hearing. Did she want to take the case downtown? It was always a struggle trying to balance her calendar when she had a case outside of juvenile court. But her biggest concern was that she believed Matt bludgeoned those two kids to death with his own baseball bat, especially now that Ralph recanted his alibi. Many of her past clients were guilty, but that never stopped her from defending them before. So, why was this one bothering her so much?
"Are you okay?" JP broke her chain of thought.
Sabre sat up straight. She was glad she had JP to investigate the facts in these cases and to figure out who killed Judge Mitchell. She could concentrate on the legal issues. "I'm fine. Just trying to sort this all out."
"What can I do to help?"
"Exactly what you're doing. Figure out which time Ralph was lying. Is he an alibi for Matt or not? And find the man in the black car or something that resolves the Tran case." Sabre picked up a file from her desk. "What do we know about the King case? Anything more on Isaiah Banks?"
"No. I've reached a dead end on that one, but the police are really watching him. They think he has gained some new status in the Piru gang. I'm sure I'll hear if anything breaks on him. Also, I spoke to Klakken again about the judge's murder. They don't seem to be any closer to an arrest. And they still don't know if Dr. Heller's hit-and-run is connected to the judge’s murder."
“I’m working on something that might help us.”
“What’s that?” JP asked.
“I had lunch with Jeanette, who was Judge Mitchell’s clerk, the other day and she said Scary Larry had her keep a record of every case he ever presided over. At the end of each day she had to enter the info into a spreadsheet.”
“Why would he do that?”
“That’s the funny thing. She asked him about it once and he told her that if anything suspicious ever happened to him, she should give the list to the police because the murderer was probably someone on the list. He said to make sure they eliminate his ex-wives first. At the time she thought he was kidding. Now she’s not so sure.”
“So do the police have it?”
“Yes, she sent it to them this morning. She emailed me a copy earlier today.”
“Why did she wait so long? Have they ruled out the ex-wives?”
Sabre chuckled. “I don’t know, but she’d forgotten all about it. About a year ago he stopped adding to the list. He gave no explanation; he just told her she didn’t have to do it any longer.”
JP stood to leave. “Let me know if you find something,” he said. “I’m just a phone call away.”
***
After JP left, Sabre opened her computer and googled “places to buy Shiner Bock in San Diego.” When the list popped up she clicked on Keg N Bottle, but when she searched on the site it read “not in store.” She called each one of the locations to make certain. She phoned Pat’s Liquor in Ocean Beach, but they didn’t carry it either. She hadn’t intended on spending this much time on her search, but now it had become a challenge. Besides, she wanted to let Clint know that she was interested enough to make the effort.
She tried a couple other stores to no avail. Then she clicked on BevMo! She tried the Mission Valley store because it was closest, but they were out of stock. Then she tried the Point Loma and Carmel Mountain stores with the same result. Finally, she found it in the Mira Mesa store. The beer was available for pick-up in one hour so she ordered two six-packs. Even if Clint wasn’t around long enough to drink all of the beer, it had been too much trouble to just buy one six-pack.
Sabre finished the preparation on the rest of her cases for court the next day. Then she perused the list Jeanette had provided of Judge Mitchell’s cases, starting with the most recent date and working backwards through the list. It contained thousands of cases but the information on each was minimal. It included the date, the type of case, the defendant’s name, the charges, the attorneys (both prosecution and defense), the end result, and a brief note about disposition and/or sentencing.
Since the judge had stopped posting to the list last year, Sabre’s dependency cases were not there. She did have several delinquency cases with him. None of those cases seemed to stand out except for one: the Juarez case. Renaldo Juarez was a sixteen-year-old gangbanger charged with armed robbery. Immediately following his sentencing, he pointed his finger at the DA, the judge, the bailiff, and Sabre in a sweeping motion around the courtroom. The bailiff grabbed his hands, pulled them behind his back, and handcuffed him. As the bailiff led him from the courtroom, Renaldo threatened the lives of everyone involved in his case. Sabre pulled his file from her file cabinet of completed cases. She made a few phone calls and found he was safely tucked away at a juvenile camp in Arizona. To her surprise, Renaldo Juarez was purported to be doing quite well.
She continued through the list in reverse chronological order for another fifteen minutes with no luck.
She glanced at the time. If she left now she could pick up the beer, drive home, put it in the refrigerator to cool, and have time to relax a bit before she showered and dressed for her date.
She decided to take one last look at the list before she left. This time she clicked on the defendants and shifted them into alphabetical order. She quickly glanced down the list. Bingo!
Date: April 3, 2002
Type of case: Juvenile Delinquency
Charges: PC 215, PC 12031
Attorneys: Prosecutor Jane Palmer, Defense Jerry Leahy
End result: Convicted
Sentence: Four years at CYA, one-year enhancement under PC 12022
Sabre saved the list in her Dropbox so she could look at it from any computer. She gathered up her things and headed out the door. She punched the address for BevMo! into her GPS and then called her friend, Jerry Leahy, using the Bluetooth technology between her phone and microphone clipped to the visor.
“Do you remember a case from a little over ten years ago with a kid named Isaiah Banks?”
“Sounds familiar, but I can’t be certain. What court?”
“Delinquency.”
“Let me pull the file. I’ll be right back.”
Sabre turned onto Interstate 15 and headed north toward Mira Mesa. She drove about five miles before Jerry came back on the line.
“Yeah…I remember this case: a carjacking with a firearm. We used the ‘It-was-the-other-dude’ defense because Isaiah claimed it wasn’t him. He swore he was somewhere else, but we couldn’t substantiate his alibi. He was only fourteen and had just joined the Piru gang. Unfortunately, he was a little too proud of his affiliation and a bit cocky. That hurt him. The two eyewitnesses in the car didn’t help, either. They swore it was him. He swore it wasn’t. I believed him. The judge believed the witnesses. I really liked the kid, though. If he hadn't hooked up with the Skyline Pirus, he might have made it. Why do you ask?”
“I have his son on a dependency case and the judge was Mitchell. I just discovered that Mitchell was also the judge on his juvenile case eleven years ago.”
“Yes, it was Scary Larry alright. He was on a crusade to crack down on gang crime. It was the kid’s first offense, but his grades had dropped, he was missing school, and because of his gang membership the judge gave him a pretty harsh sentence: California Youth Authority. Five years, I believe. Anyone else would’ve likely given him camp time, not CYA.” Jerry paused. “Are they looking at him for Mitchell’s murder?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s too bad. I really thought that kid had a chance.”
“Thanks, Jerry.” Sabre hung up the phone and called JP. She reached his voice mail. “The list of Judge Mitchell’s cases has Isaiah Banks on it. He was the judge on Isaiah Banks’ first offense. He found him guilty of carjacking with a firearm and gave him a pretty harsh sentence. You may want to pass this on to Klakken if they haven’t discovered it already.” She hung up just as she pulled into the BevMo! parking lot.
Chapter 47
Tyson Doyle Cooper aka Clint Buchanon
When the doorbell rang Sabre glanced at the clock and realized it was way too early for Clint. He surely wouldn't arrive forty-five minutes early. She was dressed but her hair was still wet from the shower. She dashed downstairs and peeked out her front door’s peephole. It was Bob Clark.
"Hi. What are you doing here?" Sabre said, as she opened the door.
"I was in the neighborhood and my phone is dead," Bob said. "I need to use your computer for a second."
"Come on in." She stepped back and Bob followed her inside. "Would you like a Shiner Bock beer?"
"I've never heard of it. Is it good?"
"I don't know. I don't like beer." They stepped into the kitchen.
"So why do you have it?"
Sabre opened the refrigerator, removed a bottle of the beer, and handed it to Bob. "I have company coming and that's what he drinks."
"He? Who is he? Do you have a date?"
"Sort of."
"How do you have a 'sort of’ date? Is he taking you out or not?" Bob pulled his glasses down on his nose and looked over the top of them to examine the label.
"He's coming here to fix dinner for me."
"Who is this guy?"
"None of your business."
Bob held the bottle out in front of him, then smiled and nodded his head. "It's that cowboy you met in the bar, isn't it?" he asked smugly.
"If you must know, yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Before Sabre could respond, he added, "I told you he wanted you."
"That's exactly why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to hear you gloat."
“Okay, no gloating. Let me use your computer and I’ll get out of here.”
***
Clint arrived on time and carrying two bags of groceries. Sabre led him to the kitchen, where he set them down on the island. He glanced around the kitchen. “Nice set-up,” he said.
“It’s small, but I don’t spend a lot of time in here. The truth is I don’t cook unless I have to.”
With a slight nod and a wink, he said, “Stick with me and you won’t ever have to.”
“Would you like something to drink?”
Clint reached inside one of the bags on the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine. It had an ivory label with a triangle cut out at the top containing a raised floral pattern. In gold letters it read: “LINDAFLOR” with a fancy swirl leading off from the “a.” Underneath it said “Valle de UCO—Mendoza, Argentina 2005.” Sabre knew very little about wines, but the bottle was impressive.
“It’s a Malbec wine,” Clint said. When Sabre didn’t respond right away, he added “Unless you have something better.” His voice sounded a little harsh. Sabre couldn’t tell if he was hurt because she didn’t have a full appreciation for the wine or if he was irritated.
She quickly said, “Maybe.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer. “Will this do?”
“Shiner Bock! Oh my God, I think I love you.”
Sabre laughed and handed him the beer. “If that’s all it takes.”
“I haven’t had one of these since I left Texas. I don’t drink much, but if I’m going to have a beer, I prefer this one.” He lifted the bottle and held it for a second in front of him. “I didn’t know they even carried it in California. I haven’t been able to find it anywhere. Where’d you find it?”
“I had to search a bit. I found it at BevMo! In Mira Mesa.”
“BevMo!? I don’t think we have those in Texas.” He stepped closer to her and touched her gently on her cheek. He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, lasting for just a second. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
“It’s the least I could do. After all, you’re making the dinner.”
Sabre walked over to the cupboard and removed a wine glass. “I’ll have a glass of that wine, if you don’t mind.”
Clint opened the wine and poured it into her glass, opened his bottle, and clinked her glass with his bottle. “To getting what you want out of life.”
Sabre found the toast interesting and a little curious, but she didn’t want to ruin the mood by questioning him. She assumed it was his way of saying he was glad to be there. They chatted while Clint removed the groceries from the bags. Sabre folded the bags and put them away.
“Cutting board?” he asked.
Sabre removed it from a cupboard and set it on the island counter. Then she carried the block of knives from the counter near the stove to the island.
“Clint picked up a long, sharp knife and examined it. “Nice, sharp Cutco knives. They’re the best.”
“It was a gift. And they’re still sharp because I seldom use them. I’m not allowed to cook without adult supervision.”
He chuckled at her comment.
“What can I do to help?”
He moved one of the nearby barstools to one end of the counter. “You just sit here and look beautiful.” He positioned himself so he could look at her while he worked.
Sabre sat on the stool. “This is sweet. Let me know if you need anything.”
Clint proceeded to slice the tomatoes and the onions. He minced some garlic and chopped the parsley, taking an occasional sip of beer as he worked. “Do you have a grater?”
“Just the old-fashioned kind,” Sabre said.
“That’ll do. And a small bowl, if you will.�
�
Sabre brought him the grater and bowl. Clint grated the lemon rind until the yellow disappeared. Then he cut the lemon in half and set it aside. After rinsing the grater, he put it in the dishwasher. Sabre was fascinated as she watched. He obviously enjoyed this art form. He moved through the process like a painter creating a masterpiece, yet taking care to clean his tools as he went. When Sabre cooked, she threw some meat or fish along with a vegetable on the George Foreman, sprinkled some seasonings on it, and closed the lid.
“Are you sure I can’t help? I could clean up after you. I’m great at that.”
“I’ve got this. You can turn the oven on to 450 degrees for me.” He held up his nearly empty bottle of beer. “And you can grab me another one of these.”
Sabre did as he asked and then sat back down to watch the artist in action, sipping slowly on her glass of wine. Clint cleaned the salmon and removed the skin. He washed the asparagus, popping off the woody ends. He rubbed extra virgin olive oil around a glass baking pan that Sabre couldn’t recall ever having used. Then he poured some dry, white wine in the pan; placed the salmon in it; sprinkled the fish with oregano, garlic, salt, and pepper; and topped it evenly with the sliced tomatoes, onions, and parsley. He finished by pouring the breadcrumb and olive oil mixture he had created earlier over the veggie-topped salmon fillets.
He put the asparagus in another pan and tossed it with olive oil and salt. After setting both pans in the oven Clint proceeded to make a mixture of parsley, garlic, lemon zest, and almonds in another bowl.
“Is that going on the asparagus?” Sabre asked.
“Yes. It’s called Gremolata. It’s an Italian seasoning.”
Sabre had never heard of it, but it looked inviting.
***
When they sat down to eat, Clint took a photo of her with his cell phone. “Who knows?” he said. “Someday we may wish we’d captured our first home-cooked meal in a picture.”
The dinner tasted superb. Sabre loved fish, but salmon was her least favorite until she tasted the dish Clint had created. She didn’t have the heart to tell him earlier that she wasn’t a salmon fan. In retrospect, she was glad she hadn’t.
The Advocate's Ex Parte (The Advocate Series Book 5) Page 22