Stone Cold

by James Glass

  Grateful? Before Veronica could object, Meeks slammed his gavel. “Counsel, it would be wise of you to watch your mouth.”

  Although the judge had chastised Crane for his remark, I knew the man wanted to get a rise out of me. Get me angered, but the fact was, Iʼd figured out where he was going with his new plan. The key was to not let on that I knew.

  The dread of my youth was about to come crashing down on me. For some reason it didn’t bother me…at least for the moment.

  No matter what he says, what he throws at you, remain calm.

  “You were a troublesome youth, weren’t you?”

  “Is that a question or a statement?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a mocking tone, “let me rephrase the question since it’s clear you know what I’m asking, yet you want to play games.”

  Meeks slammed his gavel so hard it sounded like a gunshot. “One more statement like that, Counselor, and I will throw your butt in jail. If you want to test my patience… Don’t!” The judge pointed the gavel at him. “I can assure you, you will not like the outcome.”

  Crane grabbed a crème-colored handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket and dabbed his forehead. “Yes, Your Judgeship.” He replaced the handkerchief then flipped a page.

  “When you were nine you had your first run-in with the law. You were picked up for shoplifting a pack of gum from the store at the end of your block, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did your mother or stepfather bail you out of trouble?”

  “My stepfather.”

  “And how did he influence the manager of the store not to press charges?”

  “He told the manager I would scrub the outside of the store.”

  “By the way, what did your stepfather do for a living?”

  “He was a city councilman.”

  He walked toward the jury but stopped between them and me. “So is it a fair assessment that he was a model citizen?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  He paused a moment. “Hmm. Let’s see here. He was a city councilman, gave money to various charities, and had never been arrested. That sounds like a model citizen to me. Why not to you?”

  “Because he molested me.” There, it was out.

  The courtroom went silent, except for the soft hum of the florescent lights. I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t object. The man needed to get me off my game, make me appear to be a questionable expert witness.

  “Was he ever charged for allegedly molesting you?”

  “I called the cops once, but the charges were dropped.”

  “Could it be that you drummed up these allegations because you didn’t like him?”

  Veronica exploded from her seat and her chair fell backward to the floor. “Your Honor, what’s the foundation of these ridiculous remarks to the witness?”

  Meeks eyed him for several long seconds with intensity so strong I thought heat vision might shoot from his eyes and penetrate the fat man’s chest. “Well, we’re waiting, Counsel.”

  “If you’ll give me some latitude, I’ll bring it to light, Your Judgeship.”

  “I’m inclined to deny your request,” Meeks said. “But I’m interested to see where this line of questioning is going.” He pointed his gavel at him. “But be warned not to cross my generosity. Overruled.”

  Crane was smart, no doubt. He was taking longer to get to where I knew this was headed. It was his strategy to make moves and countermoves…try and throw me off. If he thought I was a pawn in his game of chess, well, in several more moves, I’d have him…checkmate.

  “How many times did your stepfather allegedly molest you?”

  A tear escaped me. Those nights he crept into my bed were the worst times of my life. The psychologist had warned me of post-traumatic stress. Even after years of therapy I still had nightmares from time to time. The pain and anguish that monster had inflicted on me seemed so surreal, as if after all these years, some part of me believed he would come back and wreak havoc on me.

  “I don’t know. There were too many to count over the years.”

  “And when was the first incident?”

  Incident. Are you kidding me?

  I took a slow, deep breath.

  “My tenth birthday.”

  “And you never mentioned this to your mother?”

  I stared at my mom, showing no emotion. “She was aware. I told her numerous times.”

  Our eyes met briefly, then she turned and looked down. I hoped the jury saw this. It wasn’t a confession, but from years of being in court, I’m sure the jury could tell she knew. An admission of guilt.

  My gaze shifted to the jury. All eyes were still on my mom.

  “So, if you told your mother, how come nothing happened?”

  “You would have to ask her. I was a child.”

  My mother stood, her face flushed. The courtroom stirred, tension in a babel of voices and shifting bodies as she exited. Several reporters walked out behind her. I wondered if the defense still thought using my mother against me was worth it.

  Crane flipped a page. “How many times were you picked up by police for shoplifting?”

  “I don’t know the exact number, but several come to mind.”

  “And who bailed you out of trouble each time?”

  “My stepfather.”

  “Hmm. That sounds to me like a father who wanted to make sure you stayed out of trouble. But maybe that’s just me.”

  Veronica shook her head. “Your Honor, would you instruct counsel to keep his opinions to himself.”

  Crane raised his hands. “I apologize. Won’t happen again.” He paused. “At what age did you start to develop breasts?”

  Veronica pointed a finger at Crane. “Your Honor! What does puberty have to do with any of this?”

  “Your Judgeship, it will present itself in time.”

  Meeks stared at him. “Make it quick. Overruled.”

  “I began to develop at nine.”

  “Isn’t it possible since you hit puberty at such an early age you attracted boys?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “And isn’t it possible it was these boys who you had sex with, and then you made up the lie about your stepfather molesting you?”

  “No. And I find your question offensive.” Calm down, Rebecca. He’s baiting you.

  “Your Honor,” Veronica protested. “The defense is out of line.”

  “Sustained. I’m losing my patience.”

  Crane nodded. The man did this so often he could be a bobble head. “Then why only the one phone call to the police, accusing your stepfather of molesting you?”

  “The police told me it was a crime to falsely accuse someone.”

  “Then it sounds to me like you weren’t molested, because if the accusations were true, wouldn’t it be obvious you would have called the police again and again? But you didn’t, did you?”

  Veronica stood. “Your Honor. I object to this whole line of questioning. Especially the accusations.”

  Before he could make a ruling, I asked the judge, “I would like to answer.” He nodded, but when I turned I saw disappointment of Veronica’s face.

  “I was ten. I told my mom numerous times, but she called me a liar.”

  “Would it be fair to say you made the accusations up to get your mother’s attention?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, well let’s move onto my client, Leonard Lee Lucius. Did he have any children?’

  “Yes.”

  “A son or daughter?”

  “Daughter.”

  Crane still didn’t realize I knew where he was going with this. He must have thought he was baiting me pretty good.

  “Did she ever report being molested by my client?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many times?”

  “Twice.”

  “Was he ever convicted?”

  “No.”

 
“How come?”

  “Leonard Lee Lucius was charged with murdering his girlfriend.”

  “So isn’t it possible you believed my client guilty of molesting his daughter and you and Sergeant Hayes planted the knife as evidence after Teri Goodson was murdered to ensure a guilty verdict of homicide? After all, a crime such as murder carries a stiffer sentence.”

  “No, and I find your accusation to be low, even for a defense attorney.”

  “But you did want my client to go to prison, didn’t you?”

  “If he was guilty of molesting his daughter, yes, but it never went to trial.”

  “And you and your partner made sure of that by planting the knife as evidence.” He raised his hands. “Sorry, Your Judgeship, I’ll rephrase the question. Did you or anyone else look for another suspect?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “The evidence pointed to Lucius as the killer.”

  “But weren’t there a number of crimes that occurred in the neighborhood before Teri Goodson was murdered?”

  “Several homes were broken into. There was also a rape and a number of domestic violence disputes.”

  “And was anyone else murdered in the vicinity of my client’s residence?”

  He was fishing. There weren’t any murders I could recall that was nearby. The only one I could think of…wow, this was where he was going? Bring it on, Crane.

  “There was a double homicide about two miles away.”

  He whistled. “A double homicide two miles away. And was anyone ever arrested?”

  “No, the case is still open.”

  “And who were the lead detectives on the case?”

  “Sergeant Hayes and myself.”

  Crane turned his focus to the jury. “And how were the victims murdered?”

  “Their throats were slashed.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Refresh our memory, Detective. How was my client’s girlfriend killed?”

  “Her throat was slashed.”

  Crane shook his head, slowly. “Isn’t it possible you and your partner, excuse me, former partner, got the evidence wrong? And the killer or killers who committed the double homicide two miles away,” he held up two fingers, “murdered my client’s girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “That was a quick answer, Detective. You didn’t even hesitate.” He threw his hands in the air. “But I think the jury will come to the same conclusion I have. You and your partner took the easy way out. You saw my client as a scapegoat, bagged and tagged the evidence, and called it a day.”

  “Objection,” Veronica said. “The defense is grandstanding.”

  “Sustained. Stay on point, Mr. Crane.”

  Crane turned to me and pointed with an index finger. “Did you plant my client’s blood on the knife collected from the crime scene?”

  My gaze shifted from him to the jury, and I made eye contact with each of them. “No.”

  “Well I think you’re a liar, Detective. I think you and your shady partner are the ones who threw the knife into the mail box at the end of my client’s street.”

  Meeks banged his gavel. “I’ve had enough, Counselor!” The judge turned to the bailiff. “Take Mr. Crane into custody. Maybe a night in lockup will fix his attitude. Court will reconvene at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  Chapter 30

  4:45 p.m.

  Reporters surrounded me in the hallway as I left the courtroom. Their barrage of questions sounded like white noise. Veronica weaved through the crowd using her hands to knife through the gaggle as I repeated the words, “No comment.” She gently grabbed me by the arm and led me through the front exit.

  The sun’s brilliance rained down. The air was heavy with moisture, the heat stifling. Fire burned my lungs as I breathed the hot, humid air. I guess sitting in an air-conditioned space all day will do that.

  “Let’s get a drink,” Veronica said. “I’m buying.”

  “I didn’t realize seeing the defense get thrown in jail during court was cause for celebration. But what the hell, I’m game.”

  She slapped me on the shoulder. “That’s not the reason for the celebration. But I must confess, I almost had to bite my lip to keep from smiling when the judge tossed his ass in the slammer.” Veronica laughed. “Did you see the look on Lucius’s face when your mother stormed out of the courtroom?”

  “No. I was too busy looking at my mom. Why?”

  “When Crane tried to snooker you into his…well… I’m not sure what his plan was. You derailed it when you started to cry instead of going ballistic on him during his cross about your stepfather. That caused him to have to come up with a new strategy and it backfired. When he tried to get you to confess, it was all a lie. Lucius turned beet red. With that bald head of his, he almost lit up the room. If that didn’t hurt his case, the reaction of jury when your mom stormed out…”

  She stopped and turned to me. “I think we just won our case today. In fact, I would say it’s a slam dunk.”

  “Do you think Crane will try and make a deal?”

  “He’ll try. I’m sure Lucius won’t be happy about it. He’s been looking forward to his freedom since the Supreme Court awarded him a retrial. Until this morning, they mustʼve felt pretty good about a victory.”

  “I’m sure my mother will be pissed. She had her heart set on getting a big payday from this case.”

  “Rebecca, even if by some miracle the jury finds him not guilty, there’s no guarantee he would win a civil suit for being convicted of a crime he claims he didn’t commit.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  Veronica shrugged. “Ten years ago, maybe. Now, I’m not so certain. Several months ago, a California court awarded a man forty million dollars. He served twenty years for a rape and murder he didn’t commit.”

  We started walking again. Sweat rolled down my temples. A cold beer would be divine about now. The faded green Lumina I’d seen following me over the past week rolled by. I wished the driver would roll down the tinted window so I could see who was in the car.

  When the car reached the corner, it stopped briefly, even though the light was green. A truck moved in behind and then honked the horn. The Lumina turned right and disappeared.

  Chapter 31

  6:15 p.m.

  I walked through the front door. The day seemed to never end and I still had a date tonight with Jake the Jock. Too bad Francisco was in California. We needed to talk. Well, actually, I’d be doing the talking. My attraction to him seemed genuine, but to give in to temptation seemed so surreal. I dismissed the thought. I undressed, leaving a trail of clothes behind as I headed to the bedroom to get a shower.

  Sam followed, wagging her tail. Her nose felt cold against the bare skin of my leg. She laid down on the linoleum floor next to the tub. I needed to spend some quality time with her. Between court and The Silencer case, I’d been neglecting my best friend. Well, maybe not neglecting, but certainly not giving Sam the attention she deserved.

  The hot water felt good against my skin. I don’t normally take a hot shower during the summer, but court made me feel dirty, like creepy-critters crawling on my flesh. Yuck. Then my thoughts turned to Francisco. This can’t work, you know. Being partners and lovers never pans out in this line of work. You need to check yourself, girl, before you lose him as a friend and as a partner.

  I shut the water off and grabbed two towels from the rack on the wall, wrapped one around my head and the other around my body. I moved to the mirror and wiped the steam away with my palm. This was the first time I’d seen my reflection all day. My emerald eyes, which Iʼd inherited from my father, were bloodshot from crying in court. My high cheekbones were puffy. My angled face seemed a little more worn for wear since the trial began. I opened the medicine cabinet and took out the Visine. The drops stung as they put the fire out.

  “C’mon, Sam, let’s see what Mommy’s going to wear tonight.”

  A rush of cold air hit me as I opened the bathro
om door. My cell chirped on the bedroom dresser. Maybe Francisco or Carrubba were calling to say theyʼd arrived. Caller ID read Private Caller.

  “Sergeant Watson.”

  “Sergeant Watson, this is Detective Roger Bell. I’m returning your call about one of our cold cases.”

  My hand squeezed the phone. My words were all jumbled in my head. After a short pause, the man on the other end said, “I called earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

  I remembered the Private Number from this morning. Part of me wanted to talk to him right now. Part of me wanted to hang up and forget about trying to find out who murdered my father. Not an easy decision to be made. It was time to put up or shut up.

  “Yes. I’ve been in court all day.”

  “I got your message about a cold case and you sparked my interest. What’s this cold case about? Do you have an update?”

  I shook my head as if he could see me. “No, nothing like that. I’m inquiring about a murder of a man in 1989.”

  “What’s the name of the victim?”

  A lump formed in my throat. My mouth suddenly went dry. A cold glass of water would have been a good distraction, if only for a moment. The room started spinning. My legs felt a bit unsteady, so I sat on the edge of the bed. “The name of the victim…is Tom Watson.”

  There was a short pause. “Any relation to you?”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I wondered if Bell heard it. “Yes. My father.”

  I figured he’d give his belated condolences before ending the call.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Okay, so what would you like from me?”

  I must admit, his response surprised me. Maybe he’d listen. And then, maybe, he’d actually help. “Is there any way you would be willing to send the case here?”

  I still couldn’t believe I was doing this. A part of me wanted Bell to turn my request down. But after my mom came crashing back into my life, I wanted to…no, had to know the truth. Was she involved in his murder?

  “I understand your need to find the killer,” Bell began, “but the chances of finding his murderer are slim unless you’ve got new evidence. I’m preaching to the choir. You know this.” He sighed, which is usually never a good sign. Maybe my first response was right and he was about to end the call. I heard him tapping his fingers on a hard surface. A desk perhaps.