I released his arm and stepped back, making sure I stayed clear of his legs in case he tried to kick back at me. He stood, holding his wet cap in his hand, beer dripping off his face. The look in his eyes told me I had just made an enemy for life. Bud glared at me, his anger had robbed him of the ability to talk. Finally he turned and stormed out of the restaurant. I noticed Mac standing off to one side with a baseball bat in his hands. I smiled at him and commented, “I don’t think that will be necessary. But thanks for the thought.”
Mac growled at me something about he wasn’t looking out for me, but making sure none of the other customers were hurt. “Gee, thanks for your deep concern,” I countered.
I paid my tab and just before I walked out the door, Mac came up to me. As he extended his hand, he smiled at me and said, “I understand about you and Sharon, but I also know she cares about you and I know how you feel about her. Take care of her.” When he turned to walk away, his face was red and I could tell how difficult it was for him to allow so much of his emotion to show. Mac was not the kind of man who wore his feelings on his sleeve. I called after him, “Thanks Mac, see ya around.” I heard him grumble something but I couldn’t make it out. I had been dismissed.
My truck was parked a couple of blocks away in a parking garage and I strolled down the sidewalk looking into the various stores I passed by. When I got to the garage, I pushed the button for the elevator and waited. The elevator finally arrived, the doors opened and when I pushed the button for my floor, it started to wheeze and strain to go up the shaft. The elevator was not in the best of shape.
When it stopped I got out and as I walked out of the enclosed elevator lobby I sensed something behind me. Before I could turn around my world went black.
~ ~ ~ ~
The first thing I realized was the pain. A pain in my head like nothing I had ever experienced. I tried to move but that just made my head hurt even more. I opened one eye and looked out over the parking garage. Somehow I was now lying next to my truck and I knew I wasn’t that close when I got out of the elevator and was struck. I tried moving my head again a little but the pain made me shut my eye. It seemed to throb with each beat of my heart. I waited for it to subside before I tried to open my eye again.
The concrete floor was cold and I was starting to shiver. I decided I wanted to sit up, no matter how much it hurt. As I started to push down, I noticed I had a pistol in one hand. Glancing down at it, I saw it was the same kind I kept hidden under the passenger seat in my truck. I placed the pistol on the ground, and as I pushed myself up to a sitting position I felt pieces of broken glass under my hand. My head throbbed, but I thought it wasn’t as bad as before. I shut my eyes for a moment to let the pain diminish.
When I opened my eyes again I looked around. Lying a few feet away from me was a body. From the bare legs I could tell it was a black man. I looked and then I saw the cap lying next to the head. It was Bud Cox’s hat. This was Bud Cox lying next to me on the ground. Oh shit! I crawled over to him and placed my fingers against the side of his neck. The body was cool to the touch and I could feel there was no heartbeat. Bud was dead. If a third of the things I had heard about him were true when it came to his treatment of women, I could think of a lot of women who wouldn’t mourn his passing. I leaned back against the door of my truck and as I did, I became aware of a lot of broken glass on the ground. It was like a light bulb went on in my head. Somebody had broken into my truck, gotten out my gun and had shot Cox. As I sat there looking at the body, I remembered when I woke up the gun had been in my hand… OH SHIT, my fingerprints were on the gun now.
As I sat there in a daze, I heard footsteps coming across the garage. When I looked up I saw two Seattle police officers standing in front of me. One of them had his weapon in his hand. The one without the gun spoke, “Get up.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Why not?”
“Somebody hit me on the back of the head and I’m still not tracking very well.”
The office with the pistol saw the gun on the ground and pointed it out to his partner. The partner then went to the body and knelt next to it. He checked for a pulse and when he saw who it was, he jumped back. “Sweet Mary—Chuck, do you know who this is?”
The officer with his pistol drawn looked at his partner with disbelief. “How would I know who that is? Are you going to tell me?”
“Dude, it’s that running back over at the U. Cox I think his name is. Bud Cox?”
Keeping his gun trained on me, the officer stepped over to the body so he could see the face. When he saw who it was he looked back at me. “Why did you shoot him? And in the back?”
“I didn’t. Somebody hit me from behind and when I woke up, I found him dead and my truck was broken into.”
The officer without his gun drawn lifted his radio from his belt and called in to the station. He told the person who answered they had a dead body and who the person was. It seemed like the call had barely ended and the entire parking garage was filled with police. I was slammed with questions and nobody seemed to care I had a screaming headache. Things didn’t look good, I was found with a gun… my gun, which turned out to be the murder weapon. Things didn’t look good at all.
With every telling of my story, I kept asking to have either Jeff or Sakol brought in. It seemed like my requests were ignored. Finally I was put in the back of a squad car and taken down to the station. After I was booked I was allowed my one phone call, which I made to my lawyer’s office. Wouldn’t you know it, nobody answered at Richard and Albert’s law office. Just great! I left a message and told them where I was and what the issue was.
Before I hung up I added, “Please hurry. I really don’t want to be here.”
Chapter 14
JAIL
As I lay on the bunk in my cell, mentally I was bemoaning how short and small the bed was. I kept hoping somebody would come and rescue me from this miserable little hellhole. Finally, I heard the electronically controlled steel door at the end of the corridor scrape open. Hoping and wondering if somebody was finally coming to bail me out, I sat up on my bunk. I heard the scratch of a radio transmission and then a voice, “You said Preston, right?” There was a distorted reply and the person in the hallway responded, “Yeah, we’re getting him now. He’ll be there in a minute.”
I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the colonel and his buddy were waiting for me in some little room down the hall. I hoped not, but by this time I was really getting discouraged. Finally, a tall, gaunt, sallow man stood in front of my cell. He paused before putting a key in the lock.
I was already standing in front of the cell door when a deep and low voice asked, “Matt Preston?” It was a stupid question since I was the only one in the cell.
“Yeah, that’s me.” The guard looked at me with pale blue watery eyes for a moment.
“Step back, please step away from the gate.” I did, and he slipped the key into the lock. As he turned the key he said, “You have a visitor.” Once I was standing in the corridor he locked the cell door behind me while another guard waited a few doors down for us. Once the cell door was locked, the two guards walked on each side of me, escorting me to where, I had no idea.
We passed through several security doors, and we waited for each door to close behind us before we moved on to pass though the next one. Eventually we stood before a dingy gray door, which the tall guard opened. He motioned for me to enter and I did. The room was bare except for an old scarred desk and two old wooden chairs. Sitting in one of the chairs was a very attractive woman who looked to be in either her late thirties or early forties. One guard addressed her, “Here he is, Ms. Sellers.” the contempt was evident in the jailer’s voice as he motioned towards me. “Just holler when you’re done,” he instructed the woman.
The woman stood, and I saw she was tall, slim and her attractive outfit looked expe
nsive and fit her well. She had a great smile. “Thanks, Frank. I’ll do that.” She held out her hand. As I took it she said, “My name is Krista Sellers. Albert Bradson asked me to look into your case.” She motioned for me to sit in the chair across from her.
I sat down. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Sellers.” I paused, wondering if I wanted to perhaps accidently alienate this woman with my questions. “I don’t wish to be rude Ms. Sellers, but where’s Albert?” I wanted to know why Albert wasn’t here, either alone or along with this lovely woman. After all, I certainly paid them a large enough retainer to rate the top dog, and I was also wondering why I’d been left so long in that stupid cell.
Ms. Sellers was wearing glasses and as she considered my questions, she took them off, setting them on the table in front of her. She studied me for several moments before she spoke. “I’m told that Albert has been asked not to handle this case. I’ve been assigned instead.”
Perhaps I was a bit rude in the blunt way I asked, “Why?” Considering the length of time I’d been with Albert’s firm and the amounts of money I’d spent as well, I was getting a little miffed at what I perceived as being passed along to somebody I didn’t even know. I wanted Albert. I wanted Albert to be my gunfighter. I wanted his reputation in my corner—not somebody I’d never heard of before.
Ms. Sellers leaned back in her chair and picked up her glasses. She fiddled with them briefly then folded her arms across her chest and gave a deep sigh. “Mr. Preston, you present a problem to the firm. You’ve been a good client for many years, but as I understand it, your case is not one the firm wishes to be involved in as far as being the counsel of record. I actually handle cases for Mr. Bradson and for Mr. Silversmith that they feel the need to stay arm’s length from. Neither Mr. Bradson nor Mr. Silversmith handles murder cases. But this is my specialty. I think you will find my representation of you will be to your satisfaction. Of course, if you do not wish for me to represent you, I’ll leave, and we can find somebody more to your liking.”
I stared at her. I was miffed by what I considered being passed along, but I also knew if Albert couldn’t take my case, he would send in the best gunfighter he knew. I just had to put away my feelings about being represented by this attractive woman. I needed to view her as I would view either Albert or Silversmith. I guess I understood why Albert might not want to have his name associated with murder trials, but to be candid, I also thought we went back far enough that he just might make an exception in my case. But if Albert had sent this woman, then I should trust his judgment and accept her as my legal representative.
As I thought over my options, I looked the lady over. She really was exceptionally good-looking. Her long blond hair was piled on her head in a casual way and her lovely blue eyes looked bright and full of curiosity. She had a great smile, and from what I could tell of her body she looked slim—almost to the point of being too thin. I cleared my throat and spoke, “Ah, I’d be lying if I told you I was happy Albert’s not sitting here. Nothing personal against you.” She smiled. “If Albert feels you can best represent me, then it’s fine with me. My main question is, how soon can you get me out of here?”
“Well, you’re to be arraigned tomorrow. To be honest, I doubt if I can get you out on bail. The prosecutor’s office is going for first-degree murder.”
I was too surprised to stay cool. “What?” I shouted.
“Take it easy, calm down!” Krista held her hands up in front of her body. “You have to look at it from their perspective. You were found with the gun and powder residue on your hand. There were two bullets missing from the gun, and there were two bullets in the victim. You were seen arguing with the victim less an hour before the murder—seen by four people who all agree you were acting very aggressive towards the victim. The prosecutor feels he has a slam dunk.”
“And what do you think?” I asked her. I looked her directly in the eyes.
“I’m here to represent you,” she replied.
“That didn’t answer my question. Do you think I did it?” I didn’t look away. I was going to wait her out.
She looked down at the table for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Eventually she started, “Mr. Preston, it doesn’t matter what I think. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here willing to listen to your side of the story. If you say you didn’t do it, it would help me to know what you did do. What happened?”
I wasn’t happy with her response. Albert would have believed me if I had told him I didn’t shoot the Cox kid, even if I thought he had it coming. Since it seemed Krista was my best bet to get out of my current jam, I decided to be as forthcoming as I could be. “I need to give you a little of the backstory here.” She nodded and I began. “Several of my friends meet from time to time, and we play poker. One of the more frequent players is Bill Tate—”
She interrupted, “Bill Tate? You mean the Bill Tate? Bill ‘Tubs’ Tate, the former basketball star?”
“Yes.”
I saw her relax for a second back on her chair as she murmured, “That’s a poker game I would love to sit in on.” The wistful look on her face was fleeting and she quickly pulled herself together. “Please go on. I’m sorry to interrupt you.”
“Well, last game Bill pulled me aside and told me his daughter was sorta missing.”
“I’m sorry to keep interrupting you, but what do you mean by ‘sorta missing?’”
“He told me his daughter hadn’t spoken to either of her parents in several days and she had also dropped out of the U. She wasn’t returning calls to either her mother or Bill, and he asked me to see if I could find her.”
“Why would he ask you to do something like that? Are you a private investigator?”
“No, but I’ve done things in my life… ah, well, that are not very mainstream, and I can do things and find out things people in law enforcement can’t do or find out.” I didn’t want to go into too much detail about my past and why Bill had asked me to step in, but I didn’t want to leave my attorney completely in the dark.
She sat quietly looking at me for several moments again. She started to play with the glasses sitting in front of her and when she finally spoke, her words were crafted very carefully. “Mr. Preston, you know that whatever you tell me here is protected by attorney-client privilege. That means that whatever you tell me about your past stays here, in this room, unless you and I decide together to share that information. In other words, you can confide in me.” She stopped and took a breath. “I hope you don’t think I’m being condescending here, I just want you to understand the situation.” Krista picked up her glasses and put them on. “So, what exactly have you done in your life that is considered ‘not very mainstream?’”
Now it was my turn to sit quietly. I understood why she gave me the little speech about being able to confide in her. I knew she wasn’t trying to be condescending in any way so I decided I needed to confide in her as much as possible. I thought if I didn’t explain myself properly, she might find the information some other way, and then she’d never trust me. “Whatever I tell you is just between us, right?” She nodded her head. “Okay. When I was in the service I was in a very secret unit in Viet Nam. Some call it ‘black-ops’ or ‘Delta Force.’ The truth is, I’m still not supposed to discuss a lot of what I did over there. For what it’s worth, I, or should I say my unit, was in places our government to this day still denies we were at. Some of the guys in our poker game know I did some weird shit in the service. And not too long ago I was involved with the Seattle Police in catching a hired killer up on Ross Island.”
Her eyes got bigger and she leaned back in her chair. “That was you?”
“Yeah. What do you know about that?” Surprise in my voice.
“I’m dating a guy from the sheriff’s department up on Ross. He told me kind of what happened up there. Did you really shoot a man between the eyes—a guy with an empty gun?”
I know you’re n
ot supposed to lie to your lawyer, but I still believed the right thing to do was keep up the story I had started when I was questioned in the hospital after I shot Hollis up in that tower. “It came down to he shot at me and missed, and my bullet didn’t miss. It was self-defense.”
There was a moment of silence and then she asked, “Who was up in the tower with you two?”
“It was just the two of us.”
Once more Krista looked me directly in the eyes. “So it’s your word against… well, it’s just your word then? Right?”
I made sure my eyes did not leave her face. “Yeah, I guess he was in a lot of pain and it made him miss. I was luckier and my bullet didn’t.”
“Mr. Preston…”
The tension in the room had grown and I tried to make light of the moment. “Please call me Matt. If you’re going to represent me, can we go with Matt?”
“Okay, Matt.” She smiled. “And you should feel free to call me Krista.” Her voice became more serious. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. Is there’s any way anybody can prove things didn’t happen the way you say they did up in that lighthouse?”
I hoped my answer wasn’t too fast. “Nope, cause that’s the truth. But your questions make me wonder just whose side you’re on.”
Krista looked at me for a moment. “If I have to take this to court, I need to know if there is anything out there that can bite me in the ass.”
“What can be proven is the person I shot and killed up in that lighthouse was a very bad person. I guess the question now is do you want me for a client?”
She gave me her killer smile. “Okay. Back to Bill Tate. What’s his daughter’s name?”
“Kim. Kim Tate.”
“Mr. Tate asked you to see if you could locate his daughter. Did you?”
“Yes. She was hiding.”
Code Name: Crescent: A Matt Preston Novel Page 18