Or people who stood in his way.
Chapter 16
The medical examiner pulled the slab drawer out of the morgue wall, then whipped the pale green sheet off the corpse with a flourish. “Ta-da!”
Ben Kincaid’s face started turning the same color as the sheet. He covered his mouth with his hand, then pinched his nose.
“He’s been in the deep freeze for a good long time now.” The medical examiner was a middle-aged man named Larry Tobias, with a chubby midsection and a perpetual friendly smile. “There shouldn’t be any smell.”
“There is,” Ben said, trying to talk without opening his mouth.
“Huh. Guess I’ve gotten where I don’t notice anymore.” He observed the distressed expression on Ben’s face. “You did say you wanted to see him, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Ben whispered. “I must have been out of my mind.”
Tobias grinned. “First time to see a stiff, huh?”
“No,” Ben answered. “But it’s one of those special pleasures that retains its potency through the years.” Like it or not, Ben realized, he was here, and he had asked to be here, so he’d better make use of the time. He forced his eyes downward to the desiccated remains of Dwayne Gardiner.
His skin was black, charcoal black, where there was skin at all. Most places he had been scorched to the bone-more skeleton than corpse. The body was so grisly and inhuman it hardly seemed real-more like something that should be dangling from a string in a Halloween haunted house.
“What can you tell me about the cause of death?” Ben asked, looking away.
“Three guesses,” Tobias replied, chuckling amiably. “He burned to death. Although it’s possible that cardiac arrest killed him before the flames did.”
“Cardiac arrest?”
“Brought on by fear and panic and pain. I don’t know-maybe I just want to believe it. Anything that brought an early end to his suffering would be a mercy. No one needs to be conscious for every moment of burning alive.”
Ben didn’t doubt it. “The prosecutor told me Gardiner also suffered a gunshot wound.”
“Right. Just below the shoulder. Not that bad, all things considered, although it could’ve been fatal in time if it hadn’t been treated. But the fire killed him before that became an issue.”
“How can you tell?”
“It’s easier than you might think, even with a corpse that’s been as thoroughly destroyed as this one. Live tissue that’s been burned has a whole different look, feel, and consistency than dead tissue. If he was already dead before he burned, for instance, there would be no formation of hard scabs-what we call eschar. But as you can see, the scabs are everywhere-where the skin hasn’t been burned away altogether. So he wasn’t dead when he caught on fire.”
“What else can you tell me?”
“I think the fire followed the shooting very closely in time-maybe as soon as a minute after.”
Ben tried to imagine the scenario in his mind. First, the assailant shoots him at point-blank range. Then, just for good measure, he blows him up. “Seems like overkill.”
“Yeah. Especially since they were out in the heart of the forest. Gardiner may have still been able to move after he was shot, but he certainly couldn’t make it back to town. Without assistance, he would’ve died out there. Setting him on fire was unnecessary.”
“But he wasn’t set on fire,” Ben noted. “Not as such. The tree cutter had been bombed, and he was caught in the explosion. Would Gardiner have been able to start the tree cutter even after he was shot?”
Tobias shrugged. “It’s possible. There are stories of people suffering mortal wounds-even losing limbs-and still driving themselves to the hospital.”
“But why would he want to start a tree cutter? Surely the clear-cutting could wait until after he’d been to the hospital.”
“You’re out of my field of expertise now.”
“Maybe it was self-defense. Maybe he was planning to run over his assailant or snap him like a twig in those huge claw arms. Or maybe he was just going to drive the thing back to town, and that poor unfortunate soul made the mistake of starting the tree cutter and-”
Tobias looked up. “Boom.”
Ben nodded. “I haven’t seen your report yet. Are there any other points of interest? Distinguishing characteristics or oddities?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t find all that much. Fire is the great destroyer. It doesn’t leave many traces behind for forensic detectives to follow.”
“I can imagine,” Ben said, forcing himself to gaze once more at the charred remains. It seemed miraculous that any determinations could be made from a corpse in that horrible condition.
“There was one detail you might want to know about,” Tobias said. “One thing you wouldn’t normally expect to see. Did Granny tell you about the bite?”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “No, she certainly did not. Did you find a bite mark?”
“Sure did.” He pulled out the corpse’s right arm and pointed to a shallow, barely noticeable indentation on the right forearm. “Least that’s what I think it is. Missed it the first two times I went over the corpse. Almost missed it the third. After burning, it’s hard to see anything.”
Fighting his instinctive revulsion, Ben crouched down and took a closer look at the blackened limb. He did see a few slight impressions, but he could never have identified them. “Not much there, is there?”
“Maybe not. But Granny was really excited when I told her about it.”
That caught Ben’s attention. “She was, huh?”
“Oh, you better believe it. She started jumping up and down, dancing around the morgue. Kept giving me these great big bear hugs, which as you can probably imagine was not an altogether displeasurable experience.”
Ben didn’t laugh. His mind was already a million miles away. What was Granny so excited about? He couldn’t believe this vague bite mark would be adequate to identify the assailant. “I’d like copies of anything you sent to Granny.”
“Sure, you’re entitled. I couldn’t figure out why the first lawyer on this case didn’t ask for them.”
“Criminal law isn’t his strong suit. That’s why he-” Ben stopped in mid-sentence. His mind suddenly flashed on something he had seen in the file yesterday afternoon. It hadn’t meant anything to him at the time, it seemed like a standard prosecution request for exemplars. Hair exemplars, blood exemplars-
And dental exemplars.
Of course, Ben’s predecessor saw no reason to object. So Zak had bitten down on a soft substance, probably wax, and left an impression of his teeth. Which Granny now had in her files, ready and waiting for trial.
Ben thanked the medical examiner and left the building. As he headed back toward his temporary office, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was way behind, that he was playing catch-up and coming up short. And if he didn’t get up to speed soon, before the trial began …
It would be too late. Especially for Zak.
Chapter 17
Peggy Carter was surprised to find the rest of the prosecution team already assembled in the conference room when she arrived. Judging by their posture and the expressions on their faces, they had been waiting for a good long time.
Granny was sitting at the head of the table, as indeed she always did. “Glad you could make it, Peggy.”
“I just found out about the meeting. I was in the library when the memo-”
“Sit down, Peggy.” Granny pointed toward an empty chair at the end of the conference table. “We’ve waited long enough.”
Peggy did as she was told. This was the way it always was with Granny. No chance to explain, no hope for redemption. Just a quick fix of guilt and on with business.
Peggy had been at the D.A.’s office for over a year now. And every day she came to like her esteemed boss a little less. When she had first signed on, she had been excited at the prospect of working under a fellow female, a serious-minded career woman who had broken through the glass ceil
ing against all odds and even gotten herself elected D.A. What had originally seemed like a breakthrough for the cause, though, now only seemed like another day in hell.
She wanted to quit, but at the moment, that just wasn’t an option. She had a twelve-year-old daughter at home, a daughter who depended on her single mom for her support. They were in debt and overextended. They couldn’t afford an interruption in income, even a brief one. And Peggy knew that if she gave up this job, the interim before she got her next would likely be more than brief. In Magic Valley, employment opportunities were none too extensive. Most of the logging corporations had in-house counsel departments, but none of them were hiring. There were no other large businesses or industries in the area. She could go into private practice, but she knew she’d never be able to pay the bills on what she’d make. And moving was too expensive even to contemplate.
So that left the D.A.’s office. Which at the moment meant working under Granville Adams. At least until the next election.
“As you probably already know, the Zakin trial has been set for Monday. Needless to say, I want every one of you giving this case your full-time attention, and then some. Understand?”
Nods all around. In addition to Peggy and Granny, there were two other staff lawyers in the conference room, Kip Farmer and Troy Potter, neither of them superstars. But Granny didn’t really want superstars on her team. She was the superstar; what she wanted from others was simply blind obedience and a willingness to perform the grunt labor trials required but that she was much too important to do herself.
“How’s the forensic end of the trial shaping up?”
Kip Farmer coughed into his hand. “Everything seems to be in tiptop shape. We’ve sent the fingerprints to the lab, and they’ve come back with precisely the results we wanted.”
“Funny how that happens so often, innit?” Granny grinned. “What else?”
“Footprints have been checked and double-checked.”
“What about the bite mark? Did you get the expert I wanted?”
“I did. In fact, I had a long chat with him on the phone this morning. He’s perfect-got credentials up the wazoo. Plus he’s white, handsome, and speaks in complete sentences.”
“Yes,” Granny said impatiently, “but is he a good expert or a bad expert?”
Kip stammered. “Uh … I’m … uh, not sure what-”
“A good expert is an expert who understands he has an obligation to say anything we want because we’re paying his vastly inflated fee. A bad expert is one who insists he has an obligation to the truth, whatever he perceives it to be.”
Peggy spoke timidly. “Don’t we have an obligation to the truth, too?”
Granny dismissed the remark with a wave of her hand. “Of course we do. Is there anyone here who doesn’t think Zakin committed this crime?” She waited a beat, as if someone might dare respond in the affirmative. “That being so, we have an obligation to get a conviction. And we don’t want our work screwed up by some expert who decides to wrestle with his conscience during cross-examination. Got it, Peggy?”
Peggy bit her tongue. Stupid, stupid, stupid …
“What about on the personal side, Troy? Have we got motive sized up?”
Troy leaned forward a bit. “I think so, yes.”
“Don’t think, Troy. Know.”
He corrected himself. “I, uh, know so. I’m certain.”
“You’d better be.”
“I’ve reviewed Grayson’s testimony several times now. I think-er, I know he’ll deliver what you want and more.”
“Good. Very good.” Her face curled up in a smile. “I can’t wait to see Kincaid’s face when he takes the stand.”
Troy seemed disturbed. “But-um-can I ask one question?”
“Just one, Troy.”
“Aren’t you going to have to put his name on your witness list? And when defense counsel sees his name-”
“In the first place, I’m going to delay submitting a list until the last possible moment. Judge Pickens is on our side, so honestly, what’s Kincaid going to do about it? In the second place, I have to list the witnesses’ names, but I don’t have to give a detailed description of what I expect them to talk about. I think I can mislead Kincaid into thinking he’s being called for one reason, then sock it to ’em when he’s on the stand.”
Peggy stared down at the conference table. Was this ethical? But she knew better than to ask the question aloud. She’d only get the same treatment she’d gotten a few minutes before.
“Well, team,” Granny said, clapping her hands together, “it sounds as if we are in fine fettle. If there’s nothing else-”
“I have something,” Peggy said.
All eyes turned to her end of the table. “Oh?”
Peggy swallowed. She didn’t want to speak. She’d much rather let the moment pass and retreat to the safety of her office. But there was an issue that had to be raised.
“I’ve been reading some disturbing reports,” Peggy said, trying to pretend she didn’t feel Granny’s eyes burning down on her. “Some from the DEA, some from local law enforcement agencies. We’ve got a drug lord in town-a major player. One Alberto Vincenzo.”
Granny’s annoyance was apparent. “Does this relate in some way to the Zakin case?”
“I think it might.” Peggy pulled a photo out of a file folder. “This is Alberto Vincenzo.” It was a waist-up shot. Vincenzo was a big man, with long stringy black hair and a scar above his right eye. His face was defiant; his shoulders and chest rippled with muscles. He looked scary.
“Vincenzo has been in Magic Valley for at least a month, maybe longer. We don’t know what he’s doing here. But given the fact that we’ve seen a huge spike in the distribution and use of Venom, it isn’t hard to put two and two together-”
“I’m sure this little lecture is fascinating to Kip and Troy,” Granny said, “just as it is to me. But what the hell does it have to do with this murder case?”
Peggy tried to be brave. She had made a cardinal mistake-she had taken the spotlight off Granny for too long. This was Granny’s show, and she expected to be the star. She didn’t like upstarts.
“We all know the wife of the murder victim was concerned about his behavior in the weeks just prior to his murder. She reported violent mood swings, reckless behavior, extended periods of sleep followed by extended periods of sky-high alertness. In short, exactly the symptoms associated with this new designer drug.”
Granny’s face became set and positively grim. “What are you implying, Peggy? Do you think we arrested the wrong man?”
“No, I’m not saying that. But if Gardiner was using this new drug being distributed by Vincenzo, then Vincenzo is a potential suspect.”
Granny’s face burned red. “So I guess you think we should release our local eco-terrorist, against whom we’ve already got an ironclad case, and go chasing after your drug lord.”
“No, of course not.” She drew in her breath. “All I’m saying is that Vincenzo is a potential suspect. As such, any evidence pointing to Vincenzo is exculpatory as to the guilt of Zakin. Therefore, applying the standard of Brady v. Maryland, we have an obligation to inform defense counsel.”
Granny gaped. “To do what?”
“To give Zakin’s lawyer everything we’ve got on this Vincenzo creep. I’ll be happy to take care of it if-”
“No.” Granny laid her hands firmly on the table. “That is not going to happen.”
“But the law requires-”
“The law requires us to turn over any potentially exculpatory evidence. But this half-baked theory of yours isn’t exculpatory. It doesn’t make the case against Zakin any weaker. It just creates the possibility of a wild-goose chase and a distraction the defense can use at trial to confuse the jury.”
“He has a right to know about any potential suspects.”
“Who considers this … Vincenzo a suspect? I don’t. Do you?”
Kip and Troy both shook their heads rapidly.
“Am I to inform defense counsel of every criminal in town? Or in this case, every potential but as yet uncharged criminal? I don’t think so.”
Peggy didn’t know what to say. The law was clear. But Granny seemed determined to ignore it.
There was a long and very unpleasant silence.
“Give me the Vincenzo file, Peggy.”
Peggy reluctantly complied.
“I’ll refile this. Where it belongs.”
Yeah, Peggy thought. Like in the incinerator.
“If we had any hard evidence pointing toward this drug kingpin,” Granny continued, “I’d agree with you, Peggy. But I will not feed the defense an escape hatch by creating a connection that doesn’t exist. We have an obligation to produce evidence, not to invent theories.” She leveled her gaze, finding Peggy’s eyes and fixing upon them. “And furthermore, my dear, let me tell you something that is the law. Granny’s law, if you will. I expect-no, require absolute loyalty from my staff. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes, ma am.”
“If you’re with me, I want you with me one hundred percent. Otherwise, you can get the hell out.”
Peggy pressed her lips together.
“I’m waiting for an answer, Peggy. Are you with me?”
“Yes, ma’am. One hundred percent.”
Granny waited a good long time before she released Peggy from her penetrating gaze. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I was beginning to wonder.”
Peggy tried to read the expression on the dragon lady’s face. Did she still wonder? Did she still have doubts about Peggy? If she did, that could be fatal to Peggy’s employment status.
Granny spouted a few more “go, team, go” platitudes, then walked briskly out of the conference room. Peggy noticed that Kip and Troy both left without saying a word to her. She had obtained pariah status; none of the suck-ups would have anything to do with her till they were sure she was back on Granny’s good side.
Dark Justice bk-8 Page 13