Trial by Fire

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  Her hands suddenly stopped and she returned to her desk. Winters experienced a letdown, then quickly asked himself what he had expected. He was an old goat and she was a pretty young woman. He wasn’t so stupid that he didn’t know when he was being toyed with, but the look in Holly’s eyes was all business now. Whatever had passed between them was no longer present. “Is the report in on the gun yet?” he asked, yanking his collar away from his neck.

  “Not yet,” she said. “The lab’s been snowed lately, so I guess we’ll have to wait.”

  “Ain’t gonna find anything,” he told her. “To tell you the truth, it’s puzzling that she left the gun at the scene at all. Stella Cataloni’s too smart to leave her prints on the murder weapon, though, so don’t bank on that one.”

  “Maybe,” Holly said, dumping the pizza box in the trash, “and maybe not. She blew this guy away in broad daylight. That’s a long way from smart, Carl. Particularly since she threatened him in front of witnesses. We’re talking a desperate, irrational woman here.”

  “Did she think she could get away with it?” Winters asked.

  “Of course she did,” she answered. “No one kills someone thinking they’ll be caught. Stella used to be different. You know, she was feisty and temperamental, but at the same time, somewhat reticent, probably because of the scars. Since the Pelham case, though, she’s developed a king-sized ego. I’d probably have a swelled head too if someone as influential as Growman endorsed me on national television.” She smiled, her eyes filled with mischief. “Guess Stella can kiss that prospect good-bye, huh? I guarantee she’ll never win an election in this state.”

  “She could be acquitted.”

  “Not on your life,” Holly said, fixing him with a determined look. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. Once you get this much dirt on you, you never come clean.”

  “With so much going for her,” Winters said, “why would she do it? You know, kill someone.”

  Holly wondered the same thing^but she wasn’t about to let doubts slow her down. “How the hell do I know? I guess she thought Growman and his people would get her off, keep us from prosecuting her.” At the mention of Growman, her mouth tightened. “Let me fill you in on what I found out today.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Okay,” Holly said, springing to her feet, “I called Hertz and found out Stella rented a car meeting the description that Victor Pilgrim gave us. She rented it the day before the murder and returned it a few hours after someone plugged Randall. I need you to go over there and pick up the original rental receipt and a copy of the charge slip bearing her signature. Also, tow the car to the lab and have them examine it. Even if Hertz rented it to someone else, there might be blood evidence or something else valuable inside it. Make certain you have the lab use the infrared scanner as well. They might pick up traces of blood that can’t be seen with the naked eye. We need everything we can get our hands on for the Randall prelim.”

  “No problem,” Winters said. “Are we going to put her in a lineup and see if Pilgrim can identify her?”

  “Not now,” Holly said. “He claims he couldn’t see the woman’s face that well, so why do the lineup? If he fails to identify Stella, she can use this to prove her innocence. We can’t afford to make any mistakes.”

  “If Pilgrim knows it was a woman,” he said, “then he had to have seen her close enough to identify her. I can get together a photo lineup if you want. That way, if Pilgrim fails to make a positive ID, no one will know.”

  “I already tried that,” she said, tossing a paper clip across the room. “Pilgrim refused. He insists he can’t identify the woman. What do you want me to do, Carl? Call the man a liar to his face? He’s the only witness we have right now. Besides, he’s an ex-cop. If he says black, it’s black.” She picked up some papers and read through them. “He said he could tell it was a woman because of the long hair. He doesn’t know anything other than that. Do you know this guy, by the way?”

  “Yeah,” he said, “but I haven’t seen him in years. Want me to speak to him? Maybe he can improve the description?”

  “Just cool it for now,” Holly advised. “If you press him, he could bail out and leave us high and dry.”

  “What I don’t understand,” the detective said, “is why you decided to try the old case. With Randall dead, you’ll never prove it.”

  “Who knows,” Holly said, “we might come up with another witness. Maybe not by the prelim, but before we get to trial.”

  “Who?” Winters said. “Hell, everyone who was inside that house is dead now.”

  “Not everyone,” Holly said, a devious smile on her face.

  “Stella’s brother isn’t dead,” she said. She reached over and thumped him on the thigh. “Shit, Carl, I thought you knew this case like the back of your hand. Mario Cataloni is a bird’s nest on the ground.”

  “Nah,” he said, “you’re dreaming. He’ll never incriminate his own sister. Those two are tight. Captain Cataloni told me all about them.”

  “Well,” Holly said, “we’ll just have to wait and see, then. For right now, get me that rental car receipt, and advise your people to round up all the evidence on the old case. Stella filed a discovery motion today, and Judge Maddox has already signed it. Call her and tell her to meet us at the P.D. tomorrow at one o’clock if she wants to physically inspect the evidence.”

  The thought of a suspect pawing through vital evidence riled the detective. “Have you gone over the evidence already?” he asked. “I mean, how do you see the case?”

  “Of course I’ve reviewed the evidence,” she told him. “It’s not the worst case I’ve ever tried, and it’s not the best. We’re going to get Randall’s taped interview admitted into evidence, so that should fill a lot of holes.”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I’m fairly certain Maddox will rule it’s admissible,” Holly said. “We would have a problem if the guy was still alive and we couldn’t find him, as whatever we presented would be classified as hearsay. Now that Stella blew him away, though, his statement is directly linked to the crime and goes toward motive.”

  “Sounds good,” Winters said, standing to leave.

  “Don’t forget to call Stella,” Holly reminded him.

  “Where is she?” he asked. “I can’t call her if I don’t know where she’s staying. For all I know, she went back to Dallas. I don’t think the court put any restrictions on her release.”

  “Where do you think she is? She’s staying at Mario’s place. Here,” she said, scribbling down a number and handing it to him.

  Winters wondered what the prosecutor had up her sleeve. One glance at her face, however, and he knew it was no use to ask. When she was ready to tell him, she would. “It’s funny,” he said, rubbing his chin. “I thought you and Stella were buddies. I never dreamed you’d be willing to prosecute her. Isn’t that what you told me when I first approached you and asked you to reopen the case? That the woman couldn’t be guilty because she was your friend.”

  Holly’s feet were back on her desk. She craned her neck around to look at him. “I’m friends with the people I need to be friends with,” she said. “I thought you knew that, Carl.”

  After taking a quick swim in the cool blue eyes of Holly Oppenheimer, Carl Winters no longer needed a cold shower. Women just weren’t the same as they used to be, he decided, tipping his Stetson before he stepped through the door.

  chapter

  NINE

  When Stella got up the next morning, she was hoping that Mario had returned. Seeing a few cigarette butts in the ashtray that she knew hadn’t been there the day before, she decided that he must have come home sometime during the night, and then left again before she had awakened. Stella was deeply concerned. Like all siblings, they’d had their share of arguments over the years, but they had never stayed angry at each other. Was it her fault? Had she been wrong to accuse him? As she was beginning to see her uncle in a more sinister light, she was feeling guiltier over the w
ay she had handled the situation with Mario. His drug use was something she couldn’t overlook, though, and she had decided to stay in his apartment. When he came back, she would try to talk him into entering some type of treatment program.

  While she was in the kitchen making coffee, Brenda Anderson called. “I want to go to the P.D. with you,” she told her.

  “Fine,” Stella said, holding the phone between her ear and her shoulder while she filled the coffeepot with water. “But why? I personally feel your time could be better used elsewhere. Have you thought of a way to get to Randall’s wife?”

  “Not yet,” Brenda said. “Listen, Stella, I didn’t sleep much last night. I’ve been thinking this through, and I think I have something that might work in our behalf.”

  “What?” Stella asked, setting the coffeepot down.

  “You told me the other day that you would have to reconstruct the night of the fire to find out what really happened, right?”

  “Right,” Stella said.

  “Well, there’s a new technology we might want to take advantage of. It’s called C.A.D, computer-assisted design. Do you know what I’m talking about? They’ve been using it to recreate crimes in the courtroom. Some people refer to it as forensic animation.”

  “I think so,” Stella said. “They used it not long ago in a case in San Francisco.”

  “Right,” Brenda said. “But they’ve used it in other cases as well. It’s not easy, Stella. This is very time-consuming stuff. I’ll have to contract with an outside computer lab, but I think I can get Growman to bill it to the county, with the understanding that you’ll eventually reimburse them.”

  “Explain it to me,” Stella said, pulling up a chair by the phone and taking a seat.

  “First,” Brenda said, “we’ll begin by reconstructing your old house to scale, using the exact dimensions. That means I’ll have to get my hands on a set of plans. Hopefully, when they built the house they had to submit the architectural renderings or at the very least, a detailed floor plan. Don’t they have to do that to get building permits from the city?”

  “My father was a building inspector,” Stella said. “He built the house himself. I’m certain you’ll find a set of plans on file. He was very meticulous about that type of thing.”

  “Okay,” Brenda told her. “Once we input the dimensions of the house into the computer, we’ll take all the evidence and have an independent lab analyze it, tell us what we’ve got. You know, basically identify it. Then we’ll input that information as well. What we’re going to do is show the court the house, the people who were inside when the fire broke out, and actually recreate the crime itself. Then we’ll know if Randall’s statements were truthful. If it’s not physically possible for the crime to have happened the way Randall said, you could be exonerated.” She paused and took a breath. “Not just on this case, Stella, but in Randall’s death as well. If we can prove he lied, that Randall is actually the guilty party, then the state will no longer have a motive for why you supposedly had to kill him.”

  “Slow down a moment,” Stella said, her mind spinning. “How can you recreate the fire? This is on a computer, right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But, Stella, you have to see it. It’s very lifelike. Just like we will recreate the people who were inside the house that night, we’ll also create most of the furnishings. We’ll go by old pictures, if we can find them, and of course, information obtained from you and Mario.”

  “All of our photographs were destroyed in the fire,” Stella said. “The only one who might have pictures of my parents and the inside of the house would be my uncle. And he’ll never cooperate with us.”

  “We’ll subpoena them, then,” the investigator said.

  “That could work,” Stella said.

  “We’ll use everyone’s exact body weight and height,” Brenda continued. “When we get the stage set and the actors ready, we’ll set our creation into motion, recreating the fire itself. Wherever the arson investigators think it started, for instance, we’ll start our computer-generated fire. Then we’ll feed every possible statistic on the nature of fire into the computer, as well as what type of materials were inside the house. This way we can predict how the fire advanced and what part of the house would have burned next. We should be able to tell where the bodies would have fallen, which of your parents died first, where you and Mario were in the house when it happened, and then explain how you got burned. Don’t you understand?” she said. “It will be as close as you’ll ever get to reliving that night. When we’re finished, you’ll finally know the truth.”

  “You’re certain this is going to work?” Stella said, twisting a dish towel in her hands. She’d waited so many years to know the truth. Was it possible that they could actually recreate the exact sequence of events?

  “I’m convinced of it,” Brenda answered. “That’s why I want to go down with you to view the evidence and take pictures. If we’re going to do this, Stella, we have to get started immediately or we’ll never get it done in time.”

  “I’ll meet you at the P.D. at ten o’clock sharp,” Stella told her, glancing at the clock and seeing it was already after nine. “I’m getting in the shower right now.”

  When Brenda Anderson showed up at the Houston P.D., her hair was tied back and she was dressed in a tailored beige pantsuit. Stella arrived a short time later and found Holly and Detective Winters waiting with Anderson in front of the evidence room.

  “You’re lucky,” the officer told Stella when she stepped up to the window and presented the court order. “Winters over there hauled in almost every piece of junk left in that house. I’ve been trying to get rid of it for years. If I even move a box, he has a frigging cow. You know how much room this kind of shit takes up?”

  “Can you put it in a separate room for us?” Brenda asked, wanting to examine the evidence without Holly and Winters looking over her shoulder.

  “No way, man,” the officer protested. “It’d take all week to move this stuff. You’ll have to do your thing in here. I’m not breaking my back. If you want it moved, you’ll have to hire someone.”

  Brenda smiled at him. “Ah, come on,” she said, “be a sport. There can’t be that much stuff to move.”

  “You don’t understand, lady,” he said, frowning. “This department has more people on disability than any other department in the state. Hell, the city manager told us the other day that the pension fund is almost bankrupt. You hurt your back around here and you’re fresh out. Kind of know what I mean?”

  “I guess we’ll have to make do, then,” Brenda responded. When she looked over, Stella had an excited look on her face. “What’s up?” Brenda whispered. “Did I miss something?”

  Stella shook her head. Something was floating around in her mind, but as yet, she had no way of knowing if anything would come of it.

  The officer led them to the back of the large room, crammed to the ceiling with boxes and paper evidence sacks, all cataloged and numbered. Winters and Holly followed and watched as Brenda and Stella started opening the packages and picking through the contents.

  At first, it looked like nothing more than a bunch of charred rubble, but Stella soon realized she was holding the shattered pieces of her family’s life. Picking up a plastic bag containing a metal Tonka truck that had belonged to Mario, she had to fight back tears as she turned the small toy over in her hands and stared at it through the plastic. Then she spotted something that looked like a marshmallow roasted over a campfire and realized it was the rubber tip off one of her batons. She remembered how she used to march down the football field, high-stepping to the band in her short uniform, tossing the baton in the air and then praying she would be able to catch it. Her fists clenched shut, her fingernails digging into her palms. The days when she could expose her legs were gone. She glanced over at Holly’s short skirt and heard her laughing at something Winters had said.

  Stella exploded. “How could you do this to me?” she shouted. “I thought we wer
e friends. If this is the way you treat your friends, I’m just glad I’m not your enemy.”

  “It doesn’t look like you’re suffering,” Holly said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You made bail. You’re not in jail. What? Did Growman put up the money for you?” She moved closer. “Are you his little pet now, Stella? I saw you on TV, how you were looking at each other. Don’t tell me you’re not fucking him, because I know better. That’s how you got him to endorse you, isn’t it?”

  Stella dropped the plastic bag containing the charred piece of rubber from her baton. “Is that why you’re doing this to me, because you think I’m having an affair with Growman?” Sam had made a similar statement, and Stella found it baffling. “I’m not sleeping with him,” she told her. “You’re still bitter because Growman demoted you, forced you to resign. Don’t you think it’s time you let it go?”

  “You’re damn right I’m bitter,” Holly shot out. “By rights, I should be in your shoes right now.”

  Stella laughed. “I’d gladly change places with you.”

  “I didn’t mean now,” Holly said, realizing how silly she sounded. “Forget it, okay. Just forget it. Sort through your stupid evidence. I have to get back to work.”

  Once Holly marched past her, Stella started checking the items in the room against the inventory list, trying to make certain everything was accounted for. A few moments later, Brenda appeared at her side. “Look at this,” she said. “I have no idea what it is, and the evidence sack doesn’t say where it came from.”

  Stella looked down at what Brenda was holding and saw a plastic bag containing what appeared to be melted chips of metal. Brenda turned to Winters. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “I know where it was found,” he said, “but the lab couldn’t make anything out of it. Those chips could have been anything, see. Once the metal melts like that, it’s impossible to tell.”