Johnny didn’t seem curious about why Nicole wanted to talk, nor did he ask if she was with the police. She had the feeling he knew who she was. “What do you want to know?” he said.
“It’s about Doshan Williams. Was there anyone on the team who was jealous enough of him to frame him for murder?”
There was a long moment while Johnny finished chewing an enormous bite of his burrito. “Everybody on the team was jealous of Doshan. He was my friend, and I was jealous. I would have made a great quarterback, but he had more talent, and he got the gig. I’d never have done anything to fuck him over, much less frame him for murder. But I can’t speak for the others. There are people who would stop at nothing to be a star.”
“Have you got anyone in mind?”
“Not really. But you ought to take a look at those guys with the snake tattoos. The tatts cover their chests and run up their necks. When they’re dressed, all you can see is the snakehead poking out from under their shirt.”
“What makes them worth a close look?”
“I’ve overheard them talking about Doshan. They hate him and would do just about anything to get him. They don’t make a secret of it.”
“Andy Drummond has a tattoo like that, and he’s Doshan’s best friend.”
“Right. And there are two others with the same tattoo. The three of them hang out when Doshan’s not around. There’s something going on with them, like they’re up to something.”
“Who are they? Can you give me their names?” Nicole was pulling her notebook out of her purse.
“Cody Marshall and Joe Sabatella.”
“Thanks,” she said. Jotting down the information.
“Can I buy you a meal? This is delicious.”
“Thanks, but I have another appointment.”
“I hope Doshan gets off, Nicole. I really do.”
§
By mid afternoon, the trial had stalled on a legal point, the significance of which had gone over Doshan’s head. The prosecutor, Sperantza, and Judge Lloyd had disappeared into the judge’s chambers; the jury was on a break. In the lull, Doshan was thinking about how this nightmare began. It started with a bet he’d made with his roommate—a stupid bet that could ruin his life. He’d thought little of it at the time. Now it ate at him. If only he could take it back.
The bet had been not just monumentally stupid, but also cruel. Maybe he hadn’t raped Mary Ellen Barnes, but he had taken advantage of her naiveté, and he hated himself for it. He’d spent his life building a reputation as the good guy—kind, generous, and responsible. That was how he wanted people to see him. But what he’d done to Mary Ellen hadn’t been good at all. In a way, it was his fault she was dead.
He was so ashamed of what he’d done that he hadn’t told anyone about the bet, not his lawyer in the rape case nor Sperantza. Besides, it wasn’t as if it would help his case; it would only make him look bad.
It all began when he and Andy were sitting around drinking beer one night. Andy was complaining that he never could hook up with the girls he really wanted. “There’s this one—we met at a party and I made a move on her. She got all weird about it and left with some other dude.”
Doshan decided to hand out some advice. “Your problem is you’re in too much of a hurry. If she’s not that into you, you gotta have some patience. Make an effort to run into her; you know, hang out a few times. Be friendly, but pretend sex is the last thing on your mind. A peck on the cheek when you say goodbye—if it feels right. By then, she’ll be begging for it.” At this point, Doshan hadn’t been able to resist bragging. “Once I figured that out, I haven’t had a single girl turn me down. I could bag any girl on this campus. No lie.”
“Oh yeah?” Andy had said. “I bet I can find one who won’t put out for you.”
“Bring her on,” Doshan had said.
“One condition,” Andy said. “You’ll have to bring her up to our room. Get her up here, and I’ll know you’ve scored.”
“No problem,” Doshan said. They shook hands on a $100 bet. A week later, Andy had chosen his candidate: Mary Ellen Barnes. His criteria had been her modest, unfashionable clothes; lack of makeup; outsider status; and membership in the school’s Bible studies club. She looked like one of those girls who had taken the vow to save herself for marriage.
Once given his “mark,” Doshan had attended a couple of Bible study meetings, sat next to Mary Ellen, and chatted with her. After the second meeting, he’d offered to walk her to her dorm. She’d stopped him before they’d emerged from the trees beside the building. He interpreted that to mean she didn’t want to be seen with a black guy. This offended him, but he pretended not to notice. They’d had three dates—walks in the woods east of campus. This had been her choice, a place where no one would see them. They’d exchanged a few chaste kisses.
He’d been planning to invite Mary Ellen up to his room on their next date. Before that happened, he’d run into her on the beach one night. He’d offered to walk her home, then asked her to his room. He told her he wanted to show her his grandmother’s rosary, which meant so much to him that he kept it locked in his desk. He wasn’t surprised when Mary Ellen accepted. Once she was in his room with the door closed, it had been easy to coax her out of her clothes and into bed. The rosary was never mentioned. He didn’t even have to take it out of his desk.
After Doshan collected the $100 bet, Andy had gestured toward a small black teardrop-shaped device from their shared bookcase.
“What the hell is that?” Doshan said.
“You’ll see,” Drummond said, sniggering. “Boy will you see! It’s a nannycam. The guy who invented this was a genius.” He got the device from the shelf and pressed a button. There in full-living color were Doshan and Mary Ellen, going at it on Doshan’s bed. They still had most of their clothing on, but it was clear what they were doing.
“For fuck sake, Drummond!” Doshan said. “You’re really disgusting. Delete that. Delete it this minute.”
“All right, all right,” Drummond had said, choosing a drop down menu and pressing delete. “You don’t have to get so mad. I thought it was funny.”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
Doshan was so angry that he didn’t speak to Drummond for several days.
Other than that, he hadn’t given much thought to Mary Ellen. She’d been a virgin, but he had asked her permission, and he’d been gentle. He hadn’t gone to Bible study again, nor had he called her, as he’d promised. The following week she’d showed up at practice a few times to watch from the bleachers, and he could tell from the way she stared at him that she had a crush on him. He’d nodded in greeting, but that was all. Then she stopped coming. He’d actually forgotten her until he was called into the dean’s office and was told she’d accused him of rape.
Doshan had been stunned. He wondered if this was her way of getting revenge because he’d dropped her. Not for the first time, Doshan thought about what Nicole Graves had said. That Mary Ellen was being blackmailed by someone who had a compromising video. It couldn’t it be the one Andy had taken because Doshan himself had seen Andy delete it. That is, unless someone else had found out about it and made a copy. Who would have done that and why?
Just then they called the next witness for the prosecution: Cody Marshall, one of Doshan’s teammates. Marshall was a belligerent-looking Nordic giant with a sumo-wrestler topknot just behind his hairline. He had the same snakehead tattoo rising from his collar as Drummond. Doshan and Marshall had never gotten along. Doshan wasn’t too surprised that Marshall would jump at the chance to testify against him, although he couldn’t imagine what that testimony might be.
Kendell asked Marshall if Doshan ever discussed women with him. “Oh, yeah,” Marshall said. “That’s his favorite topic. He’s always talking about who he hooked up with the night before and bragging about how he could have any girl on campus.”
“Objection,” Sperantza said. “Bragging about sexual conquests may be in bad taste, but it has no relevance to ra
pe.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
Then began a new assault on Doshan’s character. “How would you describe your teammate Doshan Williams?” the prosecutor asked. “Is he laid-back and easy-going or does he have a violent, hair-trigger temper?
Sperantza stood up. “Objection. Leading the witness.”
“I withdraw the question, your honor,” the prosecutor said. Turning back to Marshall, he went on, “Can you tell us what happened on or about January 15th of this year between you and Doshan Williams?”
“Yes, sir,” said Marshall. “It was after practice that day. He saw me outside the student center and started yelling at me. He said I’d deliberately tripped him on the field. I told him he’d tripped over his own two feet, which was the truth. Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, and he’s choking me. I’m big, but he’s got fifty pounds on me. I thought I was dead. Lucky for me some dudes came by and pulled him off.”
Doshan was instantly on his feet. “Liar!” he shouted. “I never touched you!”
The judge banged his gavel three times. “Sit down and be quiet, Mr. Williams. If I hear another word from you, I’ll remand bail, and you’ll find yourself in a cell until this trial is concluded.” Doshan sat down. He took out his pen and wrote a note, which he slid over to Sperantza. “We argued, but I never laid a hand on him,” it said.
Kendell pressed on. “Did you see him behave in a violent way toward other members of the team?”
“Yeah, one time I saw him take a punch at a teammate because the guy bumped into him in the locker room. Another time he attacked a guy for dissing him. Knocked him to the ground and kicked him.”
On cross-examination, Sperantza said, “Isn’t it true you’ve exaggerated what happened between you and Mr. Williams? There were words between you, but he did not attack you physically.”
“He did, too. He jumped on me and tried to choke me.”
“You said there were witnesses, students who separated the two of you. Can you give us their names?”
“I never saw them before,” Marshall said. “After they broke us up, they left. I never got their names.”
“Were there other witnesses?”
“Not that I remember.”
“You mentioned someone else who you claimed Doshan knocked to the ground and kicked,” Sperantza said. “Who was this person and what was the provocation?”
Marshall seemed to be thinking. “Sorry. I don’t remember. It was a while back.”
The prosecution’s next witness was yet another team member, Joe Sabatella.
Watching Sabatella walk to the witness chair, Doshan was puzzled. He’d never had much to do with Sabatella. What did this guy have against him?
Once Sabatella was seated and the right side of his face was visible from the defense table, Doshan did a double take. Sabatella’s right eye was black and almost swollen shut. Doshan also noted Sabatella had the same snake tattoo on his neck. It made him wonder if this was a new fad for Coastline’s football players. But why a snake when the team’s mascot was a shark?
After establishing the witness’s identity and the fact that he was Doshan’s teammate, Kendell asked him what had happened to his eye.
“Doshan punched me. But it was all my fault. I was messing with him, and I went too far.”
Doshan stiffened in his seat and was about to stand and call Sabatella a liar when Sperantza grabbed his shoulder. Doshan sat back, picked up a pen and dashed off a note, which he passed to the lawyer: “This never happened. He made it up.”
“What did you say to him?” Kendell asked.
Sabatella seemed unwilling to get to the point. “Most of the time Dosh is a nice guy, but he does have a temper. Most football players are violence prone. It’s a known fact.”
The judge banged his gavel. “Answer the question, Mr. Sabatella.”
Sabatella turned to look at Doshan and gave a slight, apologetic shrug, as if to indicate that he couldn’t help what he was about to say. He turned back to Kendell. “Well, yeah. We’d been joking around. I said I wondered how he’d do in jail. Like, would he end up being someone’s wife or would he be so much bigger than the other cons that he’d get to choose his own wife.
“When I said that, Doshan completely lost it. He grabbed me by the neck and punched me in the eye.”
“Was this typical of Mr. Williams’s behavior?”
“Sometimes. I’ve seen him use his fists when he gets riled up.”
“With other teammates?”
“Yeah. You see, a football team isn’t a band of brothers. There’s a lot of competition and jealousy. Most people think Doshan’s a super nice guy, but with some of his teammates, not so much. But we all get into dustups once in a while.”
“You’re not answering the question, Mr. Sabatella,” Kendell said. “Did Mr. Williams turn violent when he lost his temper?”
Sabatella hesitated, with another quick glance at Doshan. He grimaced, as if it pained him to answer. “I’d have to say ‘yes’ to that.”
Eleven
The prosecution was winding up its final week, and things weren’t looking good for Doshan. As for Nicole, she was overwhelmed with work assignments. Colbert and Smith was inundated with new cases, and two staffers were out sick. This had completely stalled her research into Doshan’s case.
At breakfast on Wednesday she leafed through the L.A. Times for the latest on the trial. Today the story had dropped to page three of the California section. It went into testimony of the previous day’s witnesses, who claimed Doshan was prone to violence. Their names were the ones Johnny Austin had given her.
She had yet to follow up on these guys. This was on her mind the whole time she was getting ready for work and saying goodbye to Josh when they left the house. She was halfway to the office when she decided to turn around and drive back home. Only a few days remained before the defense presented its case, and this research couldn’t wait. She pulled over to the curb, got out her phone, and called the office.
No one was there yet. The firm didn’t open until 9:00 a.m. and it was only 8:40. She left a message: “I think I’m coming down with the bug that’s going around the office. I’m going to work from home today.”
As she drove, she reflected on her latest lie. She’d lost track of how many she’d told in the past couple of weeks. When this case was over, she promised herself, this was going to stop. She hated lying; it made her feel guilty. Even worse, it was frightening to discover how good a liar she was and how readily people believed her.
Once in the house, she went directly to her computer and resumed her research. She took another look at the football team’s lineup on Oceanside’s website. Cody Marshall and Joe Sabatella were on the list. Along with other information, the site provided the players’ high schools and the position each had played on his high school team. Here was something intriguing. Not only were Joe and Cody from the same high school, so was Andy Drummond. All three had attended Hemet High; all had played for the Hemet High Bulldogs. All three had the snake tattoo. It seemed unlikely to be connected to their football team, whose mascot was a bulldog. Was it a gang thing?
Nicole knew a little about Hemet. Once, on the way to Palm Springs, she decided to take a longer, more scenic route. It had taken her through Hemet, where she stopped for lunch to break up the trip. Hemet was a down-at-the heels community filled with working poor. Many Southern Californians lived in outlying towns like Hemet because they couldn’t afford to buy or rent in L.A. If they worked in the city, they had to make a long, bumper-to-bumper commute to work. Nicole’s impression was that any young person who could get out of Hemet probably would.
The Valley Chronicle and the Press Enterprise covered Hemet, along with the rest of the “Inland Empire” burbs that sprawled across the arid land east of Los Angeles. Nicole began looking at high school sports coverage in both papers starting with September two years prior, the beginning of Andy, Cody, and Joe’s senior year. She went through several months
of stories, scanning each day’s news and sports sections.
She made several discoveries and was so absorbed in her work that she jumped when she heard the front door close. She checked her watch. It was a little after noon. Josh’s office was a short walk from the house, and he sometimes came home for lunch. Damn it. Now she’d have to tell another lie to explain why she was home in the middle of the day. She turned off her computer and went downstairs.
She gave Josh a hug and explained she hadn’t been feeling well, so she’d come home. “I took some ibuprofen, and I’m feeling better now.”
“Are you going in this afternoon?”
Was she? She thought about what she’d just learned. She’d worked her way to mid-October, and Drummond hadn’t yet shifted to quarterback. He was still a receiver. She’d also found the name of the quarterback at the time, Alejandro Rojas. She was itching with curiosity. When had Drummond become quarterback and what had happened to Rojas?
“Nicole?” Josh said. “I asked if you’re going to work this afternoon.”
“Oh, sorry. I don’t feel up to facing all that traffic. I think I’ll telecommute.”
Although she wasn’t remotely hungry, she sat down to have lunch with Josh. She had to force herself to eat slowly and focus on Josh’s latest fight with the city department in charge of building permits. He called it “the bureau of circumlocution,” a phrase coined by Dickens to lampoon slow-moving bureaucracy.
When they were done eating, Josh left for his office, and Nicole hurried back to her computer. She looked at the Hemet team lineup in the third week of October. Rojas was no longer on the team’s roster.
Just then, a message arrived from Joanne at work, asking if Nicole was feeling up to completing a report on a case she’d been working on; they needed it right away. If not, Joanne asked, would she send in the case file, so someone else could complete it? Nicole abandoned what she was doing and got to work on the report. It was well after 5:00 before she was done.
She was itching to find what had become of Rojas. Once the report was dispatched, she went back to her research, focusing on the news pages from the beginning of the fall term. It wasn’t long before she found it. On October 10, a news article appeared in the Press Enterprise about a rape accusation at Hemet High. A student had been suspended from school, pending the outcome of an investigation. The girl’s name wasn’t given, since she was underage, but the boy was 18. It was Alejandro Rojas, the Bulldog’s quarterback. Checking the sports pages over the next few days, she discovered something she’d missed before. A high school sports brief mentioned that the new quarterback for the Bulldogs was Andrew Drummond. Bingo! she thought. There it is.
Liar Liar Page 14