REDEEMING
JUSTICE
PETER O’MAHONEY
Redeeming Justice: A Legal Thriller
Peter O’Mahoney
Copyright © 2017
Published by Roam Free Publishing
2rd edition.
This book was originally published as the short story Criminal Truth. It has now been re-written and re-edited as the novel Redeeming Justice.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Also by Peter O’Mahoney
Also in the Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:
Will of Justice
In the Tom Whiskey Private Investigator Series:
Whiskey Justice
The Max Harrison Series with Patrick Graham:
Criminal Justice
Defending the Innocent
The Paid Juror
Burning Justice
The Girl on the Road
REDEEMING JUSTICE
PETER O’MAHONEY
When you live so close to the edge, you have to be prepared to fall over it.
Chapter 1
The black sedan stops one block shy of its destination, the narrow streets packed with patrol cars, the flashing lights blinding eyes. Ten patrol cars, at least.
Bill Harvey jolts out of his car, slamming the door behind him, jogging hurriedly through the warm September air. Despite the warmth, Bill doesn’t ditch his coat. It’s his safety blanket, and right now, he needs all the comfort he can get.
Closer. He reaches the yellow tape around the perimeter, stepping under the tape with confidence, but a fresh-faced police officer holds out his hands to stop him progressing any further.
“Detective Pitt wants me here,” he states firmly.
The officer stares up at him for a moment and then nods at his colleague to check with the lead detective at the scene. The officer is quick to return and let him through.
Closer now. The tears are already building in his eyes, the sweat gathering under his thick coat, the nerves starting to grow in his stomach.
He knows this place well. Even without the directions of the countless police, he knows his way through the building. With this many officers, it feels more like a terrorist attack than a crime scene.
“Bill.” One of the officers grabs his arm. It’s Detective Ramos. They have never liked each other. “I’m sorry.”
Without acknowledging Ramos, Bill continues to the main room.
“Bill. Wait.” Detective Matthew Pitt steps forward to stop him going any further. “That’s as far as you can go. We’re still processing this crime scene, and we can’t let you in there.”
“Tell me you have a lead.”
“We have a lead.”
“Who?”
“Bill.” Pitt places his hand on Bill’s shoulder, directing him away from the living room of the regal styled house. “Mary is in the other room. She needs you to comfort her. She needs to be taken away from here, and she asked for you. She wanted you to be one of the first to know. And I think she liked the idea of having a lawyer here. You can make her feel safe.”
“Is she a suspect?”
“Mary? No, of course not. She has an alibi, and I couldn’t imagine her doing something like that. You should go to her.”
“I need information first.”
“Of course, your mind is always working.” Pitt rubs his brow and looks away. The LAPD Forensic Science Division members push past them, ready to analyze the frantic crime scene. “He was a good man. He had the respect of everyone in the department. Not many judges have been as well-liked as he was.”
“Tell me what happened, Pitt.” Bill’s voice is still firm.
Pitt draws a long breath, stepping closer to Bill, keeping his voice low amongst the activity. “I know he was your mentor. I know that you and Hardgrave were very close. We—”
“Tell me what happened,” Bill repeats, his teeth grinding together.
“Earlier today, Hardgrave was shot in his living room at close range. One bullet between the eyes. Mary found his body lying in his new orange armchair – just delivered this morning. Blood is all over it. Killed instantly. He wouldn’t have felt any pain, Bill.”
“Time of death?”
“It looks like he’s been dead for eight to ten hours.”
“Cameras?”
“They’ve all been switched off. The shooter knew what they were doing.”
“Witnesses?”
“None.”
Wailing comes from the other room. It’s the desperate cry of a woman who has lost her companion, friend, and husband. Bill turns to go to Judge Andrew Hardgrave’s second wife, Mary, and take her out of the crime scene.
“Bill.” Pitt reaches across and grabs his arm. “There’s something you should know.”
“Go on.” Bill’s words are cold, as is his emotions.
“I saw you talking to Carlos López this afternoon. He has connections here. We have a lead, and it leads in his direction.”
“López? How?”
“Hardgrave’s estranged daughter, Michelle Hardgrave, is the girlfriend of Juan Lewis. That’s where we’re looking. Lewis, of course, is closely connected to Carlos López and Roberto Miles. All three of them were seen together on many occasions. And rumor around the department is that Hardgrave tipped off the police this morning when your client’s place was raided. This is off the record, but Lewis was supposed to be in there today with a briefcase full of drugs. Except Lewis wasn’t in the apartment… and so your client has to take the fall for the drugs.”
Carlos López, a reformed criminal, called Bill Harvey’s office after he was arrested for felony drug possession. Facing four years in prison, he was desperate for the help of L.A.’s most respected lawyer.
“Not López. He walked away from the game a long time ago. He did his time and came out a changed man. López has spent the last nine years working in drug rehab centers. He’s not a killer. He’s out of that game.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Pitt shrugs. “But he’s connected here somehow. Lewis, Miles, and López were all big players once. These are dangerous men, Bill. Very dangerous. Be careful.”
“I can look after myself.”
“Of course you can. Just tread carefully. Lewis and Miles are still two of the heavy players on the East L.A. drug scene. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. These people are very well-connected, and their connections run very high up.”
“Are you saying that this murder was drug-related?”
“No.” Pitt stops talking as another detective walks past. Once the hall is clear, he begins again. “But judges don’t just get shot. This isn’t a robbery, and it isn’t even close to an accident. This is a targeted hit. Whatever Judge Hardgrave was involved in—”
“He wasn’t involved in anything.”
“Of course.” Pitt looks to the ground. “Mary is shaken up, Bill. She needs someone to take her away from here. She asked for you.”
“You’d better chase down this killer quickly.” Bill’s words are cold again. “Because if you don’t, I will.”
Chapter 2
The tone of L.A. traffic is more frantic than usual.
On the drive to his office, Bill Harvey is verbally abused twice on the roads – once by a fervently swearing mother with two young children in the back of her car, and the second time by an old lady who couldn’t see where she was going.
He had never heard such foul l
anguage come from the mouth of a woman with pink rollers in her hair.
Neither close incident was Bill’s fault, but his drive included middle fingers, horns, and enough swear words to make the Pope faint. Not that it was anything unusual for L.A. traffic.
Some mornings, after hearing a particularly bad traffic report, he skips his morning coffee in favor of a heart jump-start on the aggressive roads. Coffee doesn’t even come close to waking him up as much as the abusive L.A. drivers.
“Good afternoon, Kate. Any news?” Bill steps into his office to be greeted by his secretary.
The spacious office in Downtown Los Angeles reminds him how far he has come. From the days when he first came to the city from his small farming town to working as a hypnotherapist in what was formerly known as South Central L.A. with daily threats of death, to now owning his piece of this great city. The sun streams in behind his secretary, through the large glass windows that lead to his office and the separate meeting room. An office that crime and justice have paid for, at least in one way or another.
“No news yet, Bill, I’m afraid.” Kate smirks in response. “Have you got anything to report?”
“Only that you look amazing today.”
Kate Spencer brushes a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Despite her beauty, compliments haven’t always come her way. Her now ex-husband did everything he could to drag her confidence down. After being called ugly on a weekly basis by the man she once loved, her self-esteem was shattered, and it has taken a long time to slowly rebuild the love for herself. Looking in the bathroom mirror is still a painful process.
“I’ll have you know that I’m a lot more than just my looks. I should be judged on my talents, not just my appearance. I’m a very useful employee, and I would like to think that I’m here for more than just a pretty face.” Her stern eyes look up to her boss. “I should be respected for my work, not my looks.”
“Yes, Kate. I know that you’re an intelligent, smart, feisty, and witty woman, who is very capable of doing this job… but you also look mighty fine today.”
Even when he has to deal with society’s lowest level of scum – the murderers, thieves, and psychos of L.A. – Kate’s genuine smile lightens his day.
And without her skills, he would be a disorganized mess.
“Thanks, boss. You too.” Her shoulders shrug a little as she accepts the compliment. “How was the funeral for Judge Hardgrave?”
“Horrible.” Bill slumps into the chair opposite his secretary’s desk, the one usually reserved for clients. Despite working in this office for the past four years, it’s the first time he has sat in the chair.
“You didn’t stay for the wake?”
“I hate those things. I hate the idea of being forced to talk to so many grieving people that you have never met before. There are hugs, and tears, and way too many emotions. I would much rather be here working.”
“Emotions aren’t your strong point,” Kate mumbles under her breath. “Have they arrested anyone for the murder yet?”
“Not yet,” he responds quietly, eyes looking towards the floor.
Reflecting on the loss of his mentor, associate, and friend, Bill Harvey stares into nothingness. Judge Andrew Hardgrave was the first judge he stood in front of after he graduated as a lawyer. In his first case, Bill Harvey was a nervous, fumbling mess – the opposite of what he is today.
But Hardgrave saw some of himself in the young lawyer and offered to mentor him in the legal process. That relationship grew into a genuine bond between two strong males, and their monthly dinners became the centerpiece of stability in their busy lives.
Memories that Bill wishes to cherish forever.
The funeral hit him hard. The smell, the air of discomfort, and the constant sobbing almost broke through the strong wall around his heart. His distant father helped him build that wall: “Caring for something will make you weak, boy,” his father used to repeat at the dinner table over and over. His father’s funeral was a low point in his life, and he has hated them ever since.
But he’s reaching a time where he’s attending more funerals than weddings, listening to more sad tears than happy ones. This was the fourth funeral he attended this year, with not one wedding to balance it out. He would much rather be watching two people enter into a legal agreement to make each other unhappy for the rest of their lives than listen to the painful cries of a devastated widow.
Nothing is as soul-destroying as listening to a widow cry.
“They must have a lead, don’t they?”
“Not even close. They’re scared. The cops are scared. The detectives are scared. The whole department is scared of these guys. The leads that they have to this shooting are very well connected people, and the detectives know that they have to step lightly in this case, or they’ll be shot themselves.”
“But that’s their job.”
“They’re still just people doing a job. They have families they want to go home to at the end of the day. Their own children to protect. I don’t blame them for stepping lightly.” Bill has the greatest respect for what the men and women dressed in blue do for their city’s safety, even if they hate him.
“Do you think the connections go all the way up?”
“Maybe, but personally, I think Hardgrave was the top of the tree.”
“Are you saying that he was on the take? He was a dishonest judge?”
“Not a chance. He was too straight for that. I think he was being used, and when he was no longer of use, someone killed him.”
Kate gazes at the man she has adored for so long. There is an aching, a vulnerability, in his eyes that she hasn’t seen before. She wants to hug him, to tell him everything will be alright, because she knows that underneath that tough-guy exterior, he’s hurting.
But she can’t do that.
The great Bill Harvey wouldn’t dare show any weakness in public. He reserves those moments for when he’s alone in his house, with a bottle of whiskey down before he’ll let any tears flow.
Nobody else is allowed to see that.
“I’m sure that they’ll get the job done, Bill,” Kate says, trying to soothe him. “The police won’t let this case go cold. It’s too big a case; it’s in the paper every day. They can’t let a judge’s killer get away with it. They’ll get him. I’m sure they will.”
“I wouldn’t be so confident.” Bill stands and begins to make his way to his inner office. He pauses, looking back to his faithful supporter. “But we will help them find the killer. We’ll do what they can’t, go where they won’t, and then we’ll hand them the evidence to make an arrest.”
“Where would we even begin?”
“At the start.” His voice is firm. “And our first lead arrives in twenty minutes.”
Chapter 3
“Your four o’clock, Carlos López, has arrived,” Kate says, buzzing through on Bill’s phone system.
“Send him through.”
Carlos López is slow to move. He rubs his shoulder, an old injury, before sluggishly making his way through the glass door that leads into the office of his criminal defense attorney. Dressed in jeans and a shirt that has absorbed a lot of California induced sweat over the years, he doesn’t even manage a smile to greet his defender.
He’s lived life hard, but he’s lived it well.
As a former hypnotherapist, Bill spent years reading people and their reactions, and he can see that Carlos is a man with a hard past. His face has more than expected wrinkles for a man whose age has passed forty-five, but he’s almost devoid of any smile lines – the effect of a life lived in serious business.
“Carlos López. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Bill. I hope this meeting is going to give me some good news. I could do with some good news today.”
“I’m afraid not, Carlos. Just more questions.” Bill walks around to the head of his desk, picks up a pen, and leans against the wall, intently watching his client’s reaction. “What do you know
about Judge Andrew Hardgrave?”
Carlos López’s face squeezes with a look of confusion as he sits down in a comfortable armchair. “The murdered judge?”
Bill doesn’t offer a response.
“I never met him.”
Still, Bill waits. Silence can be a great weapon in pressuring a person to answer.
“Look, I never met the judge directly, but I’ve known his daughter for a while,” Carlos concedes. “I’ve heard his name thrown around a bit over the years. Judge Hardgrave’s daughter, Michelle, has been dating my cousin for years. They have a really on-off relationship, but I think they’re back together again.”
“Juan Lewis?”
“That’s him. She’s been dating Juan for a long time, but from what Juan told me, she wasn’t close to her father. She hardly talked to him, although Juan liked to encourage them to chat. He liked being connected to high-powered people.” Carlos pauses, squinting at Bill. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with my case?”
“Did Lewis ever mention Judge Hardgrave?”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this?”
“Answer the question.” Bill Harvey is firm with his client. A man with a hardened past like Carlos López doesn’t react well to nice; he reacts well to firmness.
“Like I said, I’ve heard his name mentioned a few times.” Carlos waits for Bill to respond, but he doesn’t. “Lewis would talk to Hardgrave, and Hardgrave would word him up on a few things that have been happening around the city. It was a give and take relationship between the two of them.”
“Are you saying that Judge Hardgrave was dirty?”
“No. Not even close. Hardgrave would just answer a few questions for Lewis, like who would be the best cop to talk to about getting information. Or if any targeted investigations were going his way. Nothing serious, and nothing that could get Hardgrave into trouble. Just a helping hand here and there.”
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