Presumption of Innocence (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 1)

by Stephen Penner

  "Thanks again for offering to do this, Lizzy," Brunelle said the next afternoon as they stood in the jail lobby, waiting to be buzzed inside.

  "I'm kinda surprised you said yes," Lizzy replied. "You promised mom you wouldn't do it."

  "I promised her you wouldn't wear a wire," Brunelle replied. "Which is true. We're not gonna have you walk up to him and pretend you're Holly. He's not blind. We're gonna put you in the holding cell next to him and tell him Holly's in there. So, a wire wouldn't be any good for that anyway. Too far away."

  Lizzy laughed. "Mom's gonna kill you."

  Brunelle nodded. "You still sure you want to do this?"

  "That's why I called you," Lizzy answered. "Mom told me what they did to that girl. If I can help, I want to help."

  Brunelle was impressed by the girl's sense of duty and altruism.

  "Besides," she went on, "I wanna be a detective when I grow up, so being a confidential informant at fourteen will look great on my resume."

  Or not.

  Brunelle nodded. Kids these days.

  "So," Lizzy beamed, "what's the plan, boss?"

  ***

  "I assure you, officer," Brunelle could hear Karpati telling the jail guard over the speakers, "I do not have court today."

  "You're on the docket, Karpati," the corrections officer grumbled back. "That's all I need to know. Now get into holding cell number three and be quiet."

  "Would you mind telling me the nature of the hearing?"

  It really pissed Brunelle off that Karpati could speak so politely. He was gonna be a good witness. Damn it.

  "Says here," the guard flipped through his sheaf of papers, "'Motion to Join Codefendants for Trial.'"

  Brunelle was watching the scene unfold via the closed circuit television cameras that hung from the secure holding cell area behind the courtrooms. It was poor quality video, filmed at a strange downward angle, but he was pretty sure he saw Karpati frown.

  "I don't have a codefendant," Karpati protested even as they reached holding cell number three.

  The guard looked down at his papers again. "'Holly Sandholm,'" he read. "Says she's on for arraignment in adult court too. They musta transferred her case."

  Karpati frowned again as he looked down in thought.

  The guard laughed. "Congrats, you've got a trial buddy. Now get in there."

  He half-pushed Karpati into the small, windowless room, and secured the door. Then he turned down the hall and yelled, "Sandholm! Cell four!"

  ***

  Lizzy walked confidently down the cement hallway to cell number four. Brunelle was impressed. Chen not so much.

  "You sure this is a good idea?" he asked as they both hunched over the monitor. "She looks awful young."

  "She is awful young," Brunelle answered. "But damn, she sounds just like Holly. If she sticks to 'Uh-huh's and 'Mm-hmm's, Karpati should buy it."

  Chen nodded. "Welles is gonna be pissed."

  Brunelle laughed a bit. "Good."

  ***

  The cell door slammed behind Lizzy and now all they could do was listen, and hope Karpati said something stupid.

  The whole gambit was based on some dubious psychological profile Brunelle had attributed to Karpati. Karpati was a control freak—among other things. That's why he'd hired Welles, the best of the best, and a control freak himself. As long as he was getting three hots and a cot and Welles was at his side for every court date, then he was in control. Like the psychopath in the movie, straight-jacketed and a hockey-mask over his mouth to protect the young cop. He couldn't move, but he was still in control. Polite and courteous and prepared to eat your throat out if the opportunity presented itself.

  But control is all about knowing what's coming next. Take the psychopath out of his element, sever him from his expected lines of information (Why hadn't Welles told him about this hearing?), and the discomfort level rises. Control freak wants control back, and after all, he's still a freak.

  "Arpad?" Lizzy whispered. Smart. A whisper would be harder to recognize as not Holly.

  Karpati didn't reply.

  "Arpad?" she whispered again, but louder so it was more of a raspy yell.

  "Shut the fuck up," Karpati replied.

  Lizzy waited a few seconds. "Sorry, I thought you'd know what's going on."

  Nice. Appeal to that control freak vanity. Girl had a future as a detective.

  Karpati only hesitated for moment before replying, "I mean shut the fuck up about the case. Don't say shit. They're trying to scare you into testifying against me."

  "I am scared, Arpad." The whisper was working. She kept it up. And short sentences. Excellent.

  "Don't be. You'll be fine. Just don't snitch me out."

  If Brunelle had been impressed with Lizzy so far, he was amazed by the next level. She turned on the water works. Fuck detective, the girl had a future in Hollywood.

  "My lawyer says I'll get life!"

  "Shut up, damn it. Shut up!"

  Control freak doesn't like crying. Brunelle filed that away.

  "Just don't say shit and we'll both be okay."

  "My lawyer says," Lizzy half-whispered, half-sobbed, "if I don't say anything, you'll be fine. But I'm going to prison for the rest of my li-li-life!"

  Brunelle leaned toward the monitor. If this was gonna work, here was where it would work. Moment of truth. Chen leaned forward a bit too.

  "Listen to me, Holly. You don't say shit. I tell you what to do and you do it. Period. That's how it's always been. You agreed to that. And nothing changes just because I'm in here. I say knock on the door, you knock on the door. And I say shut up, you shut up. Got it?"

  Lizzy paused, being sure to produce a few audible sniffles.

  "Got it," she whined. Then, improv-style, "I love you."

  Brunelle saw Karpati's mouth curve into a smug grim. "Damn right you do. Now shut the fuck up."

  Brunelle leaned back in his chair and gave Chen the thumbs-up to get Lizzy out of there. After Chen hung up with the corrections officers, he turned back to Brunelle. "So, what do you think?"

  "It wasn't a confession," Brunelle smiled. "But it'll do. If nothing else, I've got an iron clad case of witness tampering."

  Chen raised a finger. "Ah, but Lizzy's not a witness."

  Brunelle's smile faded just a bit as he considered his inevitable conversation with the assistant medical examiner. "She is now."

  Chapter 19

  "You did what?! Are you fucking crazy?"

  Brunelle had decided to tell his co-counsel first, figuring she'd take the news better. Apparently not.

  "You sent a state agent to entrap an in-custody defendant who is represented by counsel and had specifically invoked his right to an attorney?"

  Yamata shook her head, sending silky black bangs across her eyes. "My briefs may be exquisite, but even those can't cover your ass on this one."

  Brunelle smiled. It was genuine, but he had to prop it up a bit in the corners. "The defendant—who is a murderous psychopath, by the way. Don't think that won't go into the judge's thinking. No one wants to run for reelection as the judge who let the girl-killer back on the street—the defendant made spontaneous statements to a confidential informant. They were not in response to questioning and therefore no Miranda warnings were required."

  "Confidential informant?" Yamata laughed. "That's what you're going to go with? She was a C.I.? Okay, well, he was still represented by counsel."

  "That's an ethical issue," Brunelle countered, "not an evidentiary one. The bar association may care, but it doesn't suppress the evidence."

  "Well, I'm going to care too," Yamata answered, "when you get taken off the case because the bar pulls your license."

  "I care too, Dave." It was Duncan. He was standing in the door, arm against the door jam, looking casual, except for the tired frown on his face. "We need to talk."

  Yamata jumped to her feet. "I'll be going now," she chimed. She made no effort to conceal her 'I didn't know he was going to do th
is' gesture from Brunelle as she slipped past Duncan. Duncan just nodded. Then he sat down across Brunelle's desk.

  "She's right, you know," he started. "I can't let you try this case if you get in trouble with the bar."

  Brunelle nodded. "I know. I think I threaded the needle, though. She didn't ask any questions. Only statements. Everything he said was voluntary, so it didn't need Miranda and I wasn't really contacting him for the purposes of the professional conduct rules."

  Duncan frowned. "Do you really believe all that?"

  Brunelle shrugged. He almost did. "I'll have to. Karpati was gonna walk. Now I've got an inculpatory statement. And at a minimum, I've got him on a witness tampering charge."

  "Attempted witness tampering," Duncan laughed. "It wasn't really the girl." Then Duncan frowned. "Who was it really? And how did you get her parents to agree?"

  Brunelle's smile was now fully artificial. "Yeah, about that..."

  Chapter 20

  What bothered Brunelle the most was what wasn't happening. His phone wasn't ringing. He'd left messages for Kat at her work and cell numbers, but no call back yet. He hadn't been explicit in his voicemails, and he didn't know whether Lizzy had even told her, but the lack of a return call was eating away a bit at his stomach.

  The other person who wasn't calling was Welles. There was no doubt that Karpati had told him what happened. It would take a minimal amount of checking to discover that no such hearing had ever been set, and that Holly Sandholm had never left the juvenile detention facility across town.

  Brunelle had expected Welles to excoriate him the moment he found out. The fact that he hadn't meant the defense lawyer was using his time and talents on drafting up some impressive paperwork. A motion to dismiss, no doubt. Maybe a bar complaint. Probably both.

  The day ended with neither person calling him. Brunelle checked the message light one more time on his desk phone, then stepped from his office.

  He needed a drink. And a pretty face.

  ***

  Darkness was about the same as last time, maybe a little slower. It was Tuesday after all, not Friday. Instead of three businessmen sharing a table, it was two. And instead of Faust, it was some young guy with a burgundy faux-hawk.

  "What can I get you, sir?" At least he was polite.

  "A beer," Brunelle replied, then clarified. "Whatever's on tap, I don't care."

  Fauxhawk nodded and was back in a moment with the beer.

  "Is, um, Faust working tonight?" Brunelle tried to sound casual. He was pretty sure he'd failed.

  Fauxhawk looked at him for a moment, then winced. "Dude, really? You could be her dad."

  Brunelle offered a pained nod. "Yeah, that's what I hear. Just wondering. Was hoping to finish a conversation we had last week."

  The bartender took a moment to size up Brunelle. "You a cop?"

  Brunelle laughed a little. "No." He decided not to elaborate. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing important."

  He took a drink of his beer and thought about calling Kat again. Maybe she'd been in autopsies all day.

  "Dude?" Brunelle looked up at Fauxhawk. "She'll be in at eight."

  Brunelle smiled. "Thanks."

  And he knew how he'd be spending his evening.

  ***

  By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Brunelle was sure of two things. First, he'd had too much to drink. Second, he shouldn't have had Lizzy be a C.I. after all.

  But when Faust strutted in the front door, he forgot both of those things.

  She was even more attractive than he'd remembered. He knew it was the beers, but he pretty much didn't care. She was hot. The End. And he was only old enough to be her big brother, not her father.

  But that was kinda gross too, so he shook his head and waited for her to step behind the bar.

  "Evening, miss," he said when she got close. He thought it sounded classy. He hoped it did anyway.

  A smile curved across her lips, which only reminded Brunelle of the rest of her ample curves. She put one hand on her hip, and raked the other through her thick black hair. "Well, hello, Mr. Prosecutor."

  Brunelle smiled. He wasn't drunk. Just feeling good. Still he needed to watch himself.

  "Come back to interrogate me some more?" Faust asked with a defiant eyebrow.

  Brunelle shook his head. "No, I just needed a beer. Tough day at the office."

  Faust frowned. "Same case?"

  "Yeah," Brunelle nodded and took a sip from whatever number beer he was on. "But no worries. It'll work out."

  Faust nodded too, but a far more thoughtful one than Brunelle could muster. "Okay, Mr. Prosecutor. If you say so." She thought for a few more seconds. "You gonna be here for a while still?"

  Brunelle looked up. He had been thinking about leaving. "Sure. Why?"

  That full-lipped smile returned. "I get off at two."

  ***

  Two o'clock in the morning was an ungodly hour anytime. But on a Tuesday night—or Wednesday morning—it was even worse. Brunelle killed the six hours until Faust got off work by drinking too much and eating too little. He was drunk, and it kind of pissed him off. He didn't like getting drunk. He wasn't in control when he got drunk.

  "Still here?" Faust purred as she stepped up to his table, her purse over her shoulder, ready to leave. "Good. Wanna walk a girl home?"

  Brunelle pushed himself to his feet. "I assure you, madam, I am in no condition to walk."

  Faust laughed. "We'll see what you're too drunk to do. C'mon, old man."

  Brunelle considered making the old 'I resemble that remark joke' but stopped himself. Maybe he wasn't too drunk after all.

  ***

  Faust only lived a few blocks from Darkness in a small set of apartments over some independent clothes boutiques. It looked nice enough from the outside. Brunelle was dying to know what it looked like from the inside.

  As if reading his thoughts, Faust stopped on the steps to the lobby, keys in hand. "You're not coming up, lover boy," she said. "That's not why I asked you to walk me home."

  Brunelle tried to hide his disappointment. "I figured as much," he lied. "So why did you ask? Just wanted to see if I'd say yes?"

  Faust shook her head. That smile she usually kept tucked away in the corners of her mouth was nowhere to be seen. "I wanted to tell you something, but I couldn't tell you in the bar."

  Brunelle smiled. At least the night wouldn't be a total loss.

  "Hey!" a man yelled at them before Brunelle could ask Faust what she had to say. "Why you talking to her?"

  "Oh shit," Faust said, scrambling to put her keys in the door. "You better get out of here."

  Brunelle's head was still a bit fuzzy, but he could tell Faust was right. And if he hadn't been sure, the two other guys who stepped out of the shadows as Faust disappeared inside her apartment building made it crystal clear.

  "You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, suit," one of them said.

  "And with the wrong girl," the original one added.

  Brunelle grimaced. He knew he was about to get his ass beat.

  Chapter 21

  "Oh my God!" Yamata stopped short in Brunelle's office doorway. "What the hell happened to you?"

  Brunelle tried to smile, but his black eye, swollen cheek, and split lip made the expression rather painful. "I fell," he joked.

  "Yeah, and he'll never do it again," Yamata understood the reference to recanting victims. She came in and sat down. "Seriously, though, what happened?"

  Brunelle ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, it's kind of a long story, but basically I got jumped by a bunch of guys last night who took offense to my suit."

  Yamata nodded, smoothing out the fabric of her own expensive garments. "I don't like your suits either," she deadpanned. "But I wouldn't kick your ass over it."

  When Brunelle just stared at her through puffy eyes, she raised her fists into some martial arts pose he didn't recognize. "I could, but I wouldn't."

  "I'm sure," grumbled Brunelle. "But anyway,
that's the short version."

  "What's the long version?"

  "I was in the wrong neighborhood at two in the morning with the wrong girl. Some gang took offense to an old man in a suit being there. They roughed me up and told me not to come back."

  Yamata considered the information. "Wrong girl, huh?"

  Brunelle shut his eyes with a wince. "That's what you focus on?"

  Yamata laughed. "That's the most interesting part. Did you call the police?"

  Brunelle shook his head. "No," he laughed. "It was humiliating enough. I don't need Larry Chen coming out to laugh at me."

  Yamata frowned. "First, they wouldn't send a detective for a simple assault. And second, he wouldn't have laughed at you."

  "You just did," Brunelle pointed out.

  Yamata smiled. "Okay, yeah, he would have laughed at you."

  Just then, Brunelle's secretary walked in with some papers. "These were just delivered to the front desk. They're on the Karpati case."

  Brunelle started to read the pleadings as Yamata picked up his phone and dialed. He was curious what she was doing, but was more concerned about the motion Welles had filed.

  Or motions.

  'Motion to Dismiss for Governmental Misconduct; Motion to Dismiss Aggravating Factors; Motion to Disclose Identity of Confidential Informant; Motion for Release on Bail.'

  The attached briefing was an inch thick. Brunelle wouldn't have been looking forward to reading it even if it hadn't been a diatribe on his own unethical misconduct, which he was sure it was.

  The sound of Yamata hanging up his phone shook him from the pages.

  "I called Chen," she explained. "You better talk to him."

  Chapter 22

  "Vampires?" Brunelle couldn't believe what Chen had just said. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "Well, they're not real vampires," Chen defended. He offered Yamata a 'how dumb can you be?' glance. "They just claim to be."

  Brunelle pushed back in his chair. "I get that, Larry. Thanks. But how is it, given our upside-down, vampire wanna-be murder, that you haven't mentioned this particular street gang before? What do they call themselves again?"