A Time for Justice: A Legal Thriller (Bill Harvey Book 4)
Page 8
Guardedly, Bill opens the white lid.
“Oh my.” Kate gasps as she holds her hand to her chest, moving away from the box.
“Lock your doors, Kate. Don’t walk alone at night. Call me the second that you see anything unusual in any situation.” Bill takes a deep breath. “Things are going to get nasty.”
After closing the lid, he takes the box out of his office, down the stairs, and throws it into a trashcan on the street.
He has no need for a box full of bloodied sheep eyeballs.
Chapter 18
Stepping into the front yard of the Montecito Heights home, Bill Harvey resists the temptation to hold his nose. The L.A. heat isn’t good for the trash sitting in the front yard. He isn’t even sure what the smell is – dead fish is his first guess.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long to reach Terrance Marshall’s front door, and he wastes no time banging heavily on it, almost in a desperate attempt to escape the stench. Just off the road, lowered from street level, is the white brick house, sitting at the edge of a reserve. If it weren’t for the man inside, this would be a peaceful setting.
“Alright, alright.” A muffled voice moans. “I’m coming. Hold up, I’m coming.”
The door swings open, and the man is clearly surprised to see a criminal defense lawyer in front of him. Law isn’t his favorite topic of conversation, but that happens when you have spent a lot of time behind bars.
“Hello, Terrance.”
Terrance stares at Bill for a few long moments before turning away, leaving the door open for Bill to walk inside. Unfortunately, the smell inside isn’t much better.
The towering Terrance Marshall hobbles the short walk to the kitchen bench in his three-bedroom home, picks up an open beer can, wobbles it to check how much beer is left and then gulps down what little liquid remains.
“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me why you came here?”
Bill Harvey closes the front door behind him, scanning his eyes over the mess of the house. Clothes on the floor, a hole in the plasterboard above the flickering television, a worn-out, dirty couch. This place wouldn’t find itself in the pages of a glossy home living magazine.
“I thought I’d just check in on you, Terrance. See how things are.” Bill looks to the piled-up pizza boxes on the floor next to the fridge. “And by the looks of things, you’re doing great.”
“I haven’t got time to play games, man. The Young and the Restless is on in ten minutes. You’d want to be finished talking by then.”
“I always took you for more of a Day of Our Lives type of guy.”
Terrance stares at him with the look of a man that is about to crush him. He’s well aware that his life has slowly fallen apart, and he doesn’t need a lawyer to judge him for it. Only a few years ago, he wouldn’t have even been able to name a daytime soap, but now, the crazy twists and turns of Genoa City are the highlights of his lonely days.
Despite age starting to deteriorate his enthusiasm for activity, Terrance still looks like he could wrestle a bear in the woods. His immensely large hands, wide shoulders, and dominating height have always made this African American man a very formidable figure on the streets. And although his stomach has expanded over the years, he still has the look of someone that would bust heads for being served the wrong drink.
“Kevin Wu,” Bill states. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Kevin Wu?” Terrance raises his eyebrows in surprise. “I haven’t heard that name in a while. We used to be close, I used to run a lot of jobs for him, but I haven’t done that for years. He’s dangerous, he’s smart, and he’s not a nice guy. Kevin Wu doesn’t come around here very often, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I don’t imagine many people come around here.”
“It’s been a while.” Terrance shrugs, slumping his body back down onto the well-worn position on the small, faded couch. As he falls into his slotted position, the couch creaks. If he eats too much more pizza, the couch is going to collapse under his weight. “Sorry, Bill. I can’t help you today.”
Terrance turns his attention back to the television flickering in front of him – another piece of dulling distraction to fill his days.
“A criminal like you must know the ins and outs of Kevin Wu’s life.”
“A criminal? No, no. I’m an innocent man.” Terrance smiles broadly, showing off his missing teeth. “Always have been an innocent man. I was always wrongly convicted, you know. The justice system just didn’t work for me as well as it could have.”
Bill draws a long breath, studying the yellow in Terrance’s eyes. “When was the last time you saw a doctor?”
“A doc? Saw one of those guys last year – said I was dying of something. I don’t know what; I wasn’t really listening to all the medical talk coming out of his mouth.”
“You don’t look well, Terrance. You need to go and take some health tests.”
“I can’t afford tests, man. In case you never noticed, my chosen profession didn’t come with health benefits. All I’ve got is this home. That’s all I own. And I’m not going to sell it to take some tests. If my time has come, then it will come here, not tied up in a hospital bed wearing one of those gowns with the open back.”
Bill stands near the door, staring down at the man that he once respected, liked, and challenged. For all of Terrance’s faults, for all of his criminal activity, there was always an element of honor to the way he conducted his activities.
That’s hard to do in his chosen line of work.
When he first started practicing law, Bill took on just about every case that walked through his door. With his cheap fees, he attracted many unsuccessful offenders. Terrance was one of the men that kept reappearing at Bill’s door, seemingly arrested every month for one minor charge or another.
But even when pressed, he never lied, never avoided the truth.
He enrolled in the military at eighteen years old, went to Vietnam towards the end of the war, saw things no man should see, and came back within a year more damaged than he was when he left.
Becoming street muscle was an easy way to earn money for the troubled soul.
Despite the lawless path that was laid before him, Terrance Marshall was raised with good morals by his grandmother, and he has held onto that.
On the street, Terrance stopped physical attacks on people and risked his own life to save others. He should’ve been awarded for his bravery, but they don’t hand out medals to men with long criminal pasts.
Not that Terrance is without his faults.
He has a long list of criminal activities that almost defies belief. And they’re just the ones he’s been caught for.
“I need your help, Terrance.”
“I can’t help you today, man. I’m out of that world. I’m done with complicating things. I just have to do what I have to do now. There’s no use trying to avoid it. Death is coming for me, and it’s almost here.” He looks away, out his window to the large reserve that backs onto his yard. “I see it sometimes. It feels so cold but comforting at the same time. Sometimes, I feel death is just there, and all I have to do is reach out and take it. I can’t be involved in those games anymore. I’m out, man. I’m out.”
Terrance has stood on the stand as a witness more times than Bill has cared to count. As a street warrior for sale, he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time to see the wrong things.
Raised by his grandmother after his mother’s drug overdose when he was four-years-old, Terrance didn’t achieve much at school. It wasn’t until he hit a growth spurt at the age of fifteen that he found success – people wanted to use his powerful strength to their benefit. If he attended a better school, or if he had a better chance in life, then the people that went and saw him might have been football scouts.
Unfortunately, the scouts in Terrance’s neighborhood were drug dealers.
“You look ill, Terrance. Really ill. You really should go and get help.”
“So you’re just going to die here? Watching daytime television in this isolated house?”
“This is a good spot. I like it here. There are the birds; peace and quiet.” Terrance pauses for a few moments and looks back longingly out the window. “The only other option is to die in prison. At least if that happened, I’d get a funeral. The guards would come. So would some of my fellow prisoners. Most of my old friends are in there, and they’ll never see freedom again. But I’m not going back to prison. No way. I’ve done my time in there, and I’ve seen enough of it to know that I’m not going to go back.” He wipes his eye with the back of his wrist. “If I die out here, nobody would even notice. Hell, they probably wouldn’t even find my body for weeks. You’re the first person to come to my house in a very long time.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself?”
“Someone has to.”
Pulling out a stool from under the kitchen bench, Bill brushes the dust off it and sits down, staring at the man on the couch.
“You need to ask for forgiveness, Terrance. You need to do that before you die.”
The statement startles him. “Who from?”
“From God, whichever one you believe in. Now is the time to make things right, Terrance. Ask for forgiveness for everything that you’ve done. You know that your time is almost up, and I can see in your eyes that you regret a lot of the things that you’ve done. Now is the time to ask for forgiveness.”
“You mean go into a church?”
Bill nods, and Terrance bursts out laughing, followed by an aching cough.
“Church? Me? That’s a good one. Really good. If I had to confess my sins to a priest, I’d be there for hours. Hours and hours. Probably even days. The poor priest would have a heart attack after I told him what I’ve done. No way. It’s too late for that now. It’s time for me to pay the price. I’m getting what I deserve.”
“It’s not too late, Terrance. It’s never too late to do the right thing. You still have a chance to leave a mark on this world. Make sure you leave at least one good memory here.”
“I’m doing that.” Terrance coughs again, so deep that he has to lean forward. “I’m making sure that I leave one last good memory. One last piece of good here.”
“And what’s that?”
He waves his hand at Bill, then coughs deeper still, hunched over his knees. When he has finished coughing, he wipes his eyes with the back of his sweater sleeve.
He avoids the question, stands up, and stumbles to the bathroom, trying to suppress his deep, harsh cough.
As he watches him walk away, Bill isn’t even sure if he will return.
Chapter 19
“You still here?” Terrance mumbles as he walks back down the hallway, wiping blood from the side of his mouth with a small towel.
“Five years ago, did you steal footage from the Ernest E. Debs Regional Park?”
“Footage?” He brushes the tip of his nose, blinking his eyes, trying to hold back the tears. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It’s clear that he’s lying.
“Where is it?”
“I just told you that I don’t know about it.”
“And I don’t believe you. Where is it?”
“What do you want it for?” He slumps back onto the couch, directly angled at the television.
“Kevin Wu is coming at me. The only certain way to make this case disappear is to put him in prison for murder. I know you were with him the night that Tiffany Lee was kidnapped—”
“Tiffany?” His face is panicked.
“The LAPD received a tip-off that you were there that night. They’re looking for the body now. The footage will prove that Kevin Wu took the girl, not you.”
“What makes you think that I have the footage?”
“You’re his old muscle. If he needed something done, he turned to you. I know that’s how it works. And I know that you would have broken into the office and stolen the footage.”
Terrance shakes his head. “Sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know why you wouldn’t have destroyed it, Terrance.” Bill is bluffing. “You could use the footage as blackmail. If Kevin came at you, you could blackmail him with the footage. I know that. You would have been stupid to get rid of it, especially with someone like Kevin. It’s actually very clever on your behalf. If Kevin ever tried to turn you in for all the things you’ve done, you’ve got ammunition to save yourself.”
“I can’t help you.” Terrance rubs his cheek with his left hand, another clear sign he’s lying. “You might want to talk Monty Lee, his former business partner. He would be able to help you.”
“Monty Lee? Tiffany Lee’s father? Why would he have the footage of the night his daughter disappeared?”
“Not the footage. He would have the notes that Kevin used to write. And I’m sure he would still have all the black books that they used for the prostitution rings.” He shrugs. “It would be hard to get it from him because if he gives it to you, he’s incriminating himself. But it’s what the cops were looking for – evidence of his prostitution racket.”
“And where do I find Monty Lee?”
“I don’t know where he is. I’ve been looking for him for years.”
“And why would you be looking for him?”
“He has a lot of dirt on Kevin. A lot.” He avoids answering Bill’s question directly. “He kept the books for Kevin’s businesses, and he would know everything about his past that’s needed to be known. He’s still got a score to settle with Kevin, so I’m sure you can convince him to give you information. Just be careful – Monty Lee still has one other daughter left, and he’s trying to protect her.”
“So where do I find him?”
“Like I said, it’d be hard to find him. He disappeared years ago. Took his wife, mother, and last remaining daughter, and fled the city. Lives in a house at the top end of the Angeles State Forest, I hear. Look for him up there. He’d still hold a grudge against Kevin for what happened, so if anyone is going to help you, it’s going to be him. Just be careful around him. Word is that he went a bit crazy before disappearing off the map.” Terrance rubs the top of his bald head. “I tried to find him, but I never could. I think I got close once, but I never laid eyes on him. I still have a score to settle with him, too. If you find him, let me know.”
“Where would he be keeping the notes, Terrance? I doubt he’s lugging boxes of notes around with him everywhere he goes.”
“I don’t know.” He pulls up the sleeve of his sweater, dispersing the nervous energy of his lie. “Maybe in a basement.”
“In a basement?” Bill raises his eyebrows at the strange reference.
“I suppose.” He shrugs. “I guess that’s where people keep valuable things that they don’t want found in a house.”
Staring at the reformed criminal, Bill struggles to understand the reference. Moving under the pressure of the man’s stare, Terrance struggles to get comfortable in his well-worn position.
“Does this house have a basement?”
“Nope.” Terrance shakes his head. “If it did, I would have a lot more stuff down there. Maybe even open it up to Airbnb. ‘Basement on the edge of Wilderness,’ I’d call it. That’d be great.” He laughs at his joke, but his laugh is short-lived, as it turns into another aching cough.
“Where did Kevin bury Tiffany Lee?”
Terrance looks up at Bill, mouth slightly open. “Who said she’s been buried? She might not be dead.”
“A witness is stating
that you were driving a car – seen at the entrance of the Ernest E. Debs Regional Park, not far from here – that Kevin stepped out of. He then walked around to the trunk and pulled out Tiffany Lee,” Bill states.
“I don’t think that witness is telling the truth.” Terrance’s bottom lip quivers, and he bites it, turning his head away from Bill, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist, sniffing loudly. “I didn’t know what was going to happen that night. I still don’t know what happened to her. I just hope she ran away into the reserve. Tiffany was just a little girl, and she didn’t deserve to be caught up in her father’s mess.”
Bill nods. “I need that footage, Terrance. I need you to tell me where I can find it.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Terrance shakes his head. “Kevin and I fell out years ago, but I’m still not going to cross him. He’s too powerful for a man like me. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“You know he set me up from day one. You know that he planned to blame his actions on the hypnotherapy sessions.”
“He’s finally done it?”
“Done what?
Terrance smiles. “Years ago, he told me all his plans. After Amy disappeared, his wife wanted him to go straight, so she pushed him to go to hypnotherapy sessions with you. His wife was still angry, you know, so he went for her sake. But then, he got an idea. He was going to go to you, conduct the hypnotherapy sessions, and then take drugs before he went into his brain scan. After that, he was going to hurt Monty Lee, and then blame you for controlling his actions. The brain scan would have proved that he was still under the influence of your hypnotherapy sessions, and he would escape the criminal charges. Except things didn’t go to plan, and he didn’t hurt Monty Lee…”
“He hurt the daughter instead.”
Terrance shakes his head. “I didn’t know he was going to do that. He never told me that.”
“So you’ll testify all that information?”
“Just because I know it all doesn’t mean that I’m going to testify. I’m not going to cross him. And if you force me to come to court, then I’ll deny everything.”