Sullivan's Law

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “You did good,” Carolyn told her, still reeling from the fact that her handsome classmate from law school was a hired killer. “I need to check on the others. Just sit tight until the ambulance gets here.”

  Carolyn raced to the foot of the stairs. “John, Rebecca, it’s safe now. Are you both okay?”

  “Yeah,” John called down.

  “We’re going to call the police. Just stay in your room until I come and get you.”

  Carolyn located the switch box and threw the breaker, turning the electricity back on. Entering the guest room, she saw Fast Eddie on the floor at the foot of the bed, a large brackish hole in his forehead and a pool of blood beneath him. “Did you call the police yet?” she asked Daniel, confirming that Downly was dead. “We’re going to need an ambulance for the man in the living room. Isobel stabbed him. Tell them it’s a stomach wound. I don’t think it’s fatal, but he’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “I couldn’t find the phone in the dark,” Daniel explained, the gun still dangling from his hand. “Do you think our problems are over now?”

  “Yes, I do,” Carolyn said. “I’ll bring you the phone so you can make the calls. I need to go upstairs and take care of my children.”

  Finding her cell phone on the kitchen table where she’d left it, she returned and handed it to Daniel.

  “I’ve never called the police before,” he said. “They aren’t going to put me in jail again, are they?”

  “No,” Carolyn told him. “Liam Armstrong confessed today. You’re going to be cleared, Daniel.”

  When she passed through the living room on her way upstairs, Isobel was still perched on top of David Reynolds, her elbows braced on her knees. “Told you everything would be fine, didn’t I? When you’re with the right people, the devil may set the boat to rocking, but Jesus won’t never let you sink.”

  Chapter 32

  At two o’clock Monday afternoon, Carolyn, Daniel, Isobel, John, and Rebecca were seated at the long conference table at the Ventura Police Department. Brad Preston, Hank Sawyer, District Attorney Kevin Thomas, Captain Gary Holmes, and several other investigators were also present.

  “Well,” Hank said, his eyes drifting from one person to the other, “as you all know by now, there’s no doubt whatsoever that Eddie Downly was killed in an act of self-defense. If Daniel hadn’t shot him, the state would have eventually executed him.” He directed his next statement to Daniel. “I spoke to Luisa Cortez’s parents this morning and they wanted me to personally thank you.”

  “How’s the little girl?” Daniel asked timidly. Although he was relieved that things had turned out the way they had, all the attention he’d been receiving was making him nervous. He’d already given interviews to two newspaper reporters. People magazine had approached him, along with several science and technical periodicals.

  “She’s doing fine, considering what she’s been through,” Hank told him. “Knowing Downly isn’t around anymore should help in her recovery.” He turned to address the rest of the room again. “Unfortunately, we have a number of significant problems. Percy Mills, AKA David Reynolds, will recover from the stab wound. He’s not going anywhere, though, outside of the jail.”

  Carolyn presented the question everyone wanted answered: “Who hired Eddie Downly?”

  “Mills doesn’t know,” the detective said. “He admitted that Fast Eddie told him he’d been hired to kill Daniel Metroix. Problem is, Mills claims he has no idea who hired him. Downly was shrewd. He knew better than to trust a guy like Percy Mills. From the way things went down at Professor Leighton’s house, Mills was a robber, not a killer.” The detective took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Everyone involved was reaching the point of exhaustion. “Mills didn’t have the cunning or the balls to pull off a homicide.”

  Isobel scowled in disgust. “At least that evil man who raped that little girl is dead. We don’t have to worry that he’ll hurt any more children.”

  “Wait,” Carolyn said, holding up a palm to silence her. “Mills was armed. Why didn’t he shoot Isobel instead of taking her into the living room?”

  “Who knows?” the detective said, shrugging. “By then, Downly was dead. Mills probably thought the police had the house surrounded, so he decided to take Isobel as a hostage.”

  “Why did he enroll in law school under an assumed name?”

  “To get close to you,” Hank told Carolyn. “Mills stole the records from a UCLA law student who’d died of leukemia. Because the real David Reynolds was an outstanding student, Ventura accepted the transfer.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Carolyn said, perplexed. “He transferred in several weeks before I was even assigned to supervise Daniel.”

  “Yeah, but Metroix had already been paroled.”

  Daniel confirmed the detective’s statement. “I got out of prison on February twenty-fifth. I didn’t come straight to Ventura. I spent a couple of weeks in Los Angeles.”

  “When you came to Ventura,” Kevin Thomas interjected, “you checked into the Seagull Motel. The man on the bus told you it was the best place to stay. Isn’t that what you told Detective Sawyer?”

  “Yes,” Daniel said, nodding.

  Hank slid a photograph across the table. “Does this look like the man on the bus?”

  “That’s him,” Daniel said, staring at the image. “I’m almost certain. He even had the same mole on his left cheek. He was older than he is in this picture, though.”

  “Do we have an ID on this person?” Carolyn asked, peering over Daniel’s shoulder.

  “He’s a former police officer named Boyd Chandler,” Captain Holmes said, a gray-haired man in his mid-fifties. “Harrison’s housekeeper identified him as well. He and another man we suspect was Pete Cordova, also a former officer and known associate of Chandler’s, made frequent visits to Charles Harrison’s residence. Their most recent visit was after Metroix had been released and already assigned as your parolee. The bail bondsman also identified Chandler as the man who gave him the three grand.”

  “This means Harrison contracted the hit,” Carolyn surmised. “Have we confirmed his death yet?”

  Hank pulled out a toothpick. “No,” he said. “Harrison hasn’t surfaced anywhere. We managed to track down a brokerage account. He had over two hundred thousand stashed under his son’s name. The money’s gone. He moved it a week before his alleged death. Took payment in cash and cashier’s checks. We’ve notified the banks and given them the numbers on the checks. These things are hard to track down. To a bank, a cashier’s check is almost the same as cash.” He thought a few moments, then added, “And don’t forget, Harrison was a deputy chief. With those credentials, people tend not to ask questions.”

  “Who gets the money from the sale of his house?” Carolyn asked. “And is the insurance company going to pay the million dollars to Madeline Harrison? Why would he leave the money to her? From what she said, she hadn’t seen her husband in years.”

  “No other heirs,” Hank tossed out. “The insurance company has to settle the claim. They can’t hold back unless there’s definitive proof of a hoax, which we don’t have right now. Mrs. Harrison’s attorney has already contacted them. Guess she needs the money to pay the bills at Fairview. The house hasn’t sold yet, but the wife gets that money as well.”

  Carolyn gave them a rundown of the information she’d learned in reference to Madeline Harrison’s past. Hank didn’t believe it had much bearing on the case. All it did was explain why Harrison’s widow had possessed the funds to remain in an expensive facility such as Fairview for such an extended period of time. Charles Harrison would never have been able to amass the two hundred grand in his brokerage account if he’d been saddled with his wife’s hospital expenses.

  “Great,” Carolyn said facetiously. “For all we know, Harrison is alive and may try to kill Daniel again.”

  “The man had a serious liver condition,” Hank said. “If he’s not already dead, he could die any day. Eddie Downly is dead,
Percy Mills will go to prison for attempted murder, robbery, burglary, and God knows how many other outstanding cases that might surface. I wouldn’t spend much time worrying about Charles Harrison.”

  Carolyn asked John and Rebecca to step out of the room, handing them some bills and telling them to get sodas from the vending machine down the hall.

  “Harrison needs a liver,” she said, as soon as the children had left the room. “Once he gets one, he could live as long as anyone else. We know he has enough money to pay for the operation. We have to find him.”

  “Consider him dead,” Hank said, not knowing what else to tell her.

  “Not without proof,” Carolyn said, shaking her head. “And you have no proof. By arranging his own cremation, Harrison made certain of that.”

  Daniel had a dismal look on his face. “I thought everything was over.”

  “You’re being an alarmist,” Captain Holmes said. “More than likely, Charles Harrison is dead. A person staging their own death is highly unusual. Not only that, Liam Armstrong has all but cleared Metroix. Once Harrison becomes aware that Metroix didn’t cause his son’s death, why would he want to harm him? His anger should be redirected toward the men responsible, Nolan Houston and Liam Armstrong.”

  “What if Harrison refuses to believe they’re guilty,” Carolyn said. “And the trial could take months, even years. Even if they are convicted, you know Armstrong and Houston will file an appeal. In the meantime, Daniel’s on the verge of becoming a public figure. His notoriety may infuriate Harrison enough to hire another person to kill him.”

  “Let me ask you something,” Daniel said, the events of that night playing over in his mind. “Did Liam Armstrong say Houston pushed Tim in front of the car?”

  “Sure did,” Hank said. “We talked to Houston and his two attorneys this morning. Houston is using the exact tactic we thought he would. He swears Liam Armstrong pushed Tim Harrison to his death, then coerced him into withholding the truth from the authorities.”

  “He’s right,” Daniel said, staring at the detective.

  A tense silence fell over the room.

  “I’m not sure I understood you,” Hank said, shocked at what he was hearing. “Why don’t you tell us what you believe really happened?”

  Daniel became animated, gesturing with his hands. “Most of what you said is true. At least, how everything went down. All you have to do is reverse a few things. I remember Liam Armstrong talking to the man who ran over Tim, claiming I had attacked them and shoved the boy in front of his car. He tried to tell the man that I had a knife, which was also a lie.” He face blanched. “I did own a knife,” he admitted. “I didn’t have it on me that night, though. I swear, I never intended to hurt anyone with it. I was going to kill myself. I tried but I didn’t have the guts to do it.”

  Carolyn reached over and placed her hand on top of Daniel’s. Even before he’d been falsely accused, he’d been so severely tormented, he’d wanted to take his own life. Not only had he survived twenty-three years in prison, but he’d attained some remarkable accomplishments. The attorney general’s office had discovered that Warden Lackner had patented a number of Daniel’s inventions under his brother-in-law’s name. The multiscreen monitoring and recording system had generated millions. The best news was that the bulk of the money was recoverable. Lackner had deposited the earnings in a brokerage account, pocketing only a few hundred thousand per year, most of it interest or gains from investments. The AG was preparing to prosecute him as well as his brother-in-law. The warden had already been relieved of his duties at the prison. In addition, several major research and development companies were interested in recruiting Daniel, and Mitsubishi Corporation had offered him a six-figure sum as an enticement. Whether he liked it or not, Daniel Metroix was on the road to becoming rich and famous.

  “Go on,” Hank said. “We’d like to know what you remember about Tim Harrison’s death.”

  “Nolan didn’t say much,” Daniel continued. “Liam did all the talking. I remember Liam saying several times, ‘Isn’t that right, Nolan?’ You know, the way a person talks when they’re trying to get another person to agree with them.”

  All eyes were on him now.

  Daniel waited a few more moments before speaking again, staring down at the table. “I wasn’t certain if I was guilty or innocent during the time I was in prison. I didn’t give it a lot of thought, to be honest. When a jury says you did something terrible, a person with an illness like mine tends to believe it.” He paused and looked up. “Since we’ve gone over this so many times, things are starting to come back to me.”

  “How can you be sure it was Liam Armstrong instead of Houston?” Kevin Thomas said, taking a drink of water as his case took another unexpected turn.

  “Liam’s the white guy, right?”

  “Yes,” Thomas said.

  “Well, it was the white guy who pushed Tim in front of the car.”

  “Humph,” Isobel said, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s one for the record.”

  “The boys were fighting,” Daniel said, speaking softly. “Tim was angry because he knew they were going to get in trouble. Nolan told him to shut up, then started hitting him. Liam was several feet away. He started running toward Nolan, but Nolan made this funny move, almost like a dance step. I guess football players learn to do that type of thing. Instead of slamming into Nolan, Liam hit Tim. That’s when Tim went flying through the air and the car hit him.”

  Hank leaned forward. “Are you certain?” he asked. “When you testify, they’ll bring up the fact that you were psychotic that night. And if you were, how do we know what you’re telling us is the truth?”

  Daniel gave them an innocent look. “Because it is,” he said, rubbing the side of his face. “I’m certain. I remember almost everything that happened that night now. Even when I had my first breakdown and they sent me to Camarillo State Hospital, I remembered everything that went on. At least from my own experience, being psychotic and having delusions aren’t the same thing. During the times when I’ve been psychotic, I do and say strange things, but I know what’s going on around me. In that state, everything is magnified. When you’re delusional, you’re more or less in a dream world.”

  “And you were psychotic the night of the crime?”

  “I must have been,” Daniel said. “If I’d been suffering delusions, nothing that happened would have been real. We know that isn’t true.”

  Carolyn recalled the lab’s analysis of the medication found on Daniel’s person the night of the crime. They couldn’t reproduce the pills, but the information was in the computer files. “He was given the wrong medication,” she told them. “My assumption is the pharmacy gave it to him by mistake. The drug was called Levodopa. It’s used to treat Parkinson’s disease. According to Dr. Weiss, one of our expert witnesses on psychiatric matters, this particular drug would have caused an acute psychotic episode if administered to a schizophrenic.”

  “Why didn’t this come out at the trial?” Kevin Thomas asked. “This is the perfect foundation for a diminished capacity defense.”

  Carolyn gave the attorney a dirty look. “Didn’t you even read the damn trial transcripts?” she snapped, leaning forward over the table. “Nothing regarding Daniel’s illness was introduced during the trial. He fought for over ten years just to get the prison to administer medication. It wasn’t just Charles Harrison or a few football players out for a good time who ruined this man’s life. The entire system is responsible. Is the same thing going to happen again?”

  “I don’t have to listen to this, Sullivan,” Kevin Thomas shot back, standing up and yanking off his tie. “I was only brought on board last week. I have five other cases I’m preparing for trial. I’m not the one who screwed this case up. Why are you ripping into me?”

  Hank said, “Cut the man some slack, Carolyn. None of the other DAs would give us the time of day.”

  “Fine,” she said, linking eyes with the district attorney. “I apo
logize.” As soon as the district attorney sat back down, she picked up where she’d left off. “The evidence was suppressed. The obvious person is Charles Harrison. He was chief then, and since his son was killed, I’m sure most of the law enforcement community sympathized with him enough to do whatever he asked.”

  Kevin Thomas glanced at his watch. “I have to go,” he said. “My son has a baseball game at four.”

  “What are you going to do regarding Armstrong and Houston?”

  “Prosecute them,” he said. “Get Dr. Weiss to prepare a psych report on Metroix. His testimony will be vital.”

  “What charges are you going to file?” Carolyn asked, sorry she’d lashed out at him.

  “We haven’t made a firm decision,” Thomas advised. “I’m shooting for attempted murder, since that’s the charge Metroix was convicted under. The perjury counts won’t fly due to the statute of limitations.”

  “Daniel deserves a full pardon,” Carolyn said. “What can we do to get the ball rolling?”

  “Judge Shoeffel has taken on that responsibility,” Kevin Thomas said. “These things take time. Under the circumstances, I doubt if there will be a problem.” He walked over and shook Daniel’s hand. “You couldn’t have a better person in your corner. When Shoeffel wants something, she generally gets it.”

  “Were there other victims?” Carolyn asked. “Did anyone respond to the bulletin regarding Downly?”

  “Yes,” Hank said, saddened by the atrocities they suspected Eddie Downly had committed. “We’re sending out DNA samples to four other agencies. The girls’ bodies were recovered, but their killers were never brought to justice. Their ages range between six and ten. Two were found in Arizona, one in Las Vegas, and the fourth girl disappeared from Los Angeles five years ago. LAPD only recently located her body.”

  “How do we know it was Downly?” Brad asked.