by R. E. Donald
The detective paced a little more, just as he'd done yesterday. Sharon could feel him looking at her, but kept her eyes down, trying to get used to the look of her ringless hands, stretching her fingers apart and examining her pink nails, badly chipped now. She held her hands below the table, where the others couldn't see them. The laminate along the edge of the table was chipped, too, as if someone had been picking at it.
The policewoman turned on a tape recorder and gave a little speech with the date and time and place. She identified herself as Detective Tina Salcedo and the yuppie detective as Russell Kupka, then spoke to Sharon. "You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and to have that attorney present during questioning. Do you understand these rights?"
Sharon nodded, glancing up at the woman and then back down at her lap. A lawyer had called her less than an hour ago to say she'd be coming to visit after five o'clock this afternoon. The lawyer had said the same thing, that Sharon didn't have to talk to the police, and that she should insist on having her lawyer present if they wanted to interrogate her again.
"Do you waive and give up those rights?"
Sharon pressed her lips together and thought about it. She had said nothing yesterday and she didn't intend to say anything today, so what did it matter if there was a lawyer with her or not? If she said nothing - not one word - like Ray had warned her to, there'd be nothing on the tape to incriminate her. She nodded again, but Detective Salcedo asked her to answer out loud. "Yeah," she whispered, then cleared her throat. Why was she acting so timid? Timid was totally out of character for her. Don't be such a wimp! "Yeah," she repeated, loud and clear, looking the yuppie detective right in the eye.
Detective Kupka came and stood beside her, then flicked his hand at Detective Salcedo. She tipped up a manila envelope and shook it until something slid out - a stiff blank page that looked like the back side of an enlarged photograph - and she passed it across the table to him. He pulled a chair up right beside Sharon, sat very close, staring into her face. "Look at this," he said, and flipped the photograph over on the table in front of her.
Sharon closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She suspected what the photograph might be, and she wanted to be sure she was prepared for it. Then she opened her eyes and looked right at it. She turned to the detective. "So?" she said, keeping her eyes on his without blinking for so long that her eyes started to burn.
"Do you know this man?" he asked.
She looked at the photograph again. It was a shot of a man's head and shoulders. His eyes were closed and his skin color was odd, but there was nothing horrible about it, nothing scary. She shook her head, and the detective pointed at the tape recorder. Sharon hesitated, remembering Ray's warning. Not one word, he'd said. Perhaps she shouldn't have even shook her head, but it was too late now. "No," she said in a loud clear voice.
The yuppie detective smiled. "I'm going to give you another chance," he said. "You know we'll get the truth, sooner or later. Things will go easier for you if you aren't caught in a lie."
Sharon looked away from him, pressed her lips together.
"Do you know this man?" he repeated.
She said nothing, closed her eyes and tried to shut him out. She shouldn't have said anything, not one word.
"Do you know this man?" he repeated loudly, right into her ear. She could smell coffee on his breath.
"I’m finished." She turned to face him again, scowled at him until he pulled his head back. "I don’t want to talk to you anymore."
"What was his body doing in your trailer?"
Sharon pinched her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. The detective pushed back his chair, stood up and looked down at her. "We know he was in your trailer. What was he doing there?" he said. Sharon didn't answer. The detective's jaw was working, and he began to breathe harder. She'd seen that same look on men's faces before, just before they hit her. Involuntarily, she cringed, and immediately was disgusted that she had let him intimidate her. She was the wife of a good man now. She didn't have to live in fear.
Detective Salcedo cleared her throat. "Let me talk to her, Russell." The woman smiled at her, as if she were sympathetic and a friend. Sharon knew what they were trying to do. Bad cop, good cop. Everybody had seen that on TV at one time or another. Sharon looked away.
"You know," continued Detective Kupka, going back to his pacing, "it's going to look pretty funny, you saying one thing and your husband saying something else."
"You're lying! Ray didn't say anything," she blurted out before she could stop herself, then got clumsily to her feet. "If you aren't going to let me and Ray go, then take me back to jail. Right now." At the thought of returning to her cell, she shuddered, and added, "But can't you move me? That woman I'm with won't shut up. She's crazy, and she's making me crazy, too."
Detective Kupka shrugged. "Maybe if you'd cooperate...," he said.
"Don't push it, Russell," said the woman, then turned to Sharon. "We'll see what we can do."
Hunter was in a Denny's, seated at a window table with a cup of coffee and a day-old newspaper on the table in front of him, and a Denver omelette on the way, when his cell phone rang. It was Jeff Feldman, Ray's lawyer.
"Your buddy's not talking," he said.
"If he's innocent, maybe he hasn't got much to tell you," said Hunter.
"No. I mean, he's literally not talking. When I introduced myself, he grunted. That was all I got out of him until I mentioned your name."
"My name?"
"Right. When I said you were the one who'd sent me, he said, I want to talk to Hunter, and then clammed up again."
The waitress arrived with Hunter's omelet and a pot of coffee, set the plate in front of him, refilled his cup and was on her way again in less than three seconds. "Would that be possible?"
"I've talked to Russell Kupka, and he'll let me take you in this afternoon but he has a stipulation. He wants to be there. He says it can be off the record, but he'll use the information to further his investigation any way he can."
"What do you think of that?"
"I can't represent a client who won't communicate with me. I don't even know whether he's prepared to acknowledge that he has a lawyer. So I think it's worth the risk."
They set a time, then Hunter put the phone down and tucked into his omelet. He hadn't had anything but coffee since dinner at the truck stop the night before, so he ate quickly and with enthusiasm, although his mind wasn't on the food. He liked Jeff Feldman, but there was a niggling discomfort about his motives for taking on Ray as a client. The first thing he'd said when Hunter described the situation was, "The Iceman's killer, huh? Should be a pretty high profile case."
"You've heard of him?" Hunter had asked. They were still standing in front of the Sheriff's Department reception desk.
"You think a frozen corpse just south of the Grapevine Pass isn't going to make a good hook for the evening news? The public likes a good murder mystery, Mr. Rayne. This will stay in the news. Hey. The Black Dahlia still makes the news after thirty or forty years." He'd grinned then, and shook Hunter's hand. "Sure, I'll take your friend on as a client."
"My friends, you mean," Hunter had reminded him. "Ray and his wife were both arrested."
"No. In a case like this, I can't represent both husband and wife at the same time. Not ethical. I'm not saying it's true in this case, but it's quite possible there's a conflict of interest. She'll need her own lawyer."
Hunter had asked Jeff if he could recommend another lawyer for Sharon, and he'd fished a business card out of his pocket. "Here. Try Alora Magee. I just ran into her this morning and she gave me this card to give my wife. They're old friends or something. No, don't worry about it. Take it. I'll know where to reach her."
Hunter had called Alora Magee from a payphone, and she agreed over the phone to take on Sharon as a client, given Sharon was willing,
although she warned him she would be tied up in court most of the day, and wouldn't have a chance to meet with her new client until late in the afternoon. It was a pretty haphazard way of arranging for lawyers, but Hunter felt he didn't have any other options, given the circumstances and time constraints. Besides, he was nothing more than a matchmaker. It was up to Ray and Sharon from here on.
Detective Kupka was standing at the front door of the building when Hunter arrived, and stepped forward to greet him, offering a handshake. "I was hoping you'd be a little early. I'm sorry I wasn't able to talk to you longer this morning, but I was pressed for time."
Hunter smiled faintly to acknowledge the apology, although he didn't buy it. The detective held the door open for him, and Hunter nodded his thanks as he entered the building.
"You're a good friend of Ray's then," said Kupka. "How long have you known him?"
"Just a friend," Hunter corrected him. "I've only known him for a couple of years."
"What can you tell me about the man?" Kupka said over his shoulder as he led Hunter down a hallway toward an elevator.
"Those of us who've worked with him," said Hunter, realizing that his knowledge of Ray's working habits came mostly from what El had told him, and not from personal experience, "know him to be responsible, a hard worker, honest..."
"Honest?" The detective snorted softly. "You mean, you think he's never lied to you? How the hell would you ever know?"
"He's the kind of man who'd give you the shirt off his back..."
"The Hell's Angels say that about one another all the time."
Hunter's jaw stiffened and he took a deep breath. "What exactly is it you want to know?"
"Sorry. Go on." The elevator door opened and Kupka motioned Hunter inside.
Hunter stood where he was and crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, let me make something clear here. These people are my friends. I worked in law enforcement for over twenty years, and I know as well as you do that people are not always good judges of what their friends are capable of. I'm not going to swear that the Nillsons are innocent, because you've told me nothing about the case and I have no way of knowing one way or the other, but if they are innocent, I want to help them. Why not make this a two-way street? It will save us both a lot of time if you'd tell me why you think they're guilty."
Kupka considered for a moment.
"What linked the victim to Ray and Sharon's trailer in the first place?" Hunter prompted. He still knew nothing more than what he'd read in the paper at Denny's, which wasn't much more than that a frozen body was found beside the I-5 in the mountains north of Los Angeles. He followed Kupka into the elevator.
The detective waited until the door closed before he spoke. "We found physical evidence that places the victim in the Nillsons' trailer."
"What evidence?"
"A label. A black and white, barcoded, numbered and dated shipping label that belonged to the load on their trailer. Specific enough for you?"
Hunter nodded. It was hard to dispute. A frozen corpse beside the route Ray and Sharon had driven hauling a refrigerated trailer, found close to the time they passed by, bearing a label that was unique to their load. He couldn't help but draw the same conclusion Russell Kupka had. "It's still possible they didn't know the body was there."
Kupka made a wry face. "Yeah, sure. I'd buy that if the body had been discovered when the load was delivered, or even if they'd phoned the police to report it as soon as they found it. But neither of them will even admit to seeing the body."
"What do they say?"
Kupka smiled, almost wistfully. "What do they say?" he repeated softly, then shrugged. "Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero."
"Hunh," Hunter said, chewing on his lower lip.
"Right," said Kupka. "If they won't admit to seeing the body, or even offer an explanation of how it got from their trailer to where it was found, what else are they hiding? So, you figure your buddy's never lied to you, huh? Let's just see if he's about to start." The elevator door opened and they stepped out, walked down another corridor. "You did agree to see him, didn't you? I assume Feldman told you the drill. Your buddy's been told that I'll be watching and listening from the business side of a one way window. You ready? I'll have him brought down."
"What about Jeff?" Hunter said.
"Feldman? He said he'd be here. He's late, that's his problem."
"It's only ten to three."
Kupka shrugged. "Ask your buddy if he even wants his lawyer. It's his call. I don't think he was too impressed."
"I won't talk to him unless Jeff's here," said Hunter.
"Whatever," Kupka said, with a disgusted frown. He glanced up and down the corridor, tapped the toe of his loafer on the linoleum and started to play with the change in his pockets. Then he looked at Hunter speculatively and asked, "So, what's your theory? If your buddy didn't put this guy in his trailer, how did he get in there?"
Hunter leaned against the wall, arms crossed on his chest. "I wouldn't jump to any conclusions about how the man got inside. Could be he walked in himself. Any idea who he is or where he's from?"
The detective shook his head. "No I.D. on him. They're running his prints as we speak. Want to tell me how an unconscious man walks into a trailer by himself?"
Hunter felt his jaw muscles tighten. There was no point in reminding Kupka of the obvious, that Hunter hadn't been given all the facts. "How do you know he was unconscious?" The newspaper article had said the corpse was frozen in the position of a man trying desperately to keep warm.
"Technically, I don't. Let's just say it's probable."
"So let me answer your question, then. I see several possibilities. He could have climbed in the trailer himself, either to hide from someone or to steal something. He could have been accidentally locked inside either at the loading dock or somewhere along the way, or someone could have placed him inside the trailer without Ray's knowledge..."
Kupka waved his hand for Hunter to stop. "Whoa! If your buddy didn't know the guy was in there, then why wasn't the body still on the truck when he pulled up to unload the trailer?"
"He probably stopped to check his load. I do it all the time, especially when I've had to come to a fast stop somewhere along the route, or if the road's been bad, lots of hills and curves."
"Why?"
"Nothing more embarrassing than having freight fall out of the back when you open the trailer at the customer's loading dock." The elevator doors opened and they both turned to look. It was Jeff Feldman.
"Nothing?" asked the detective.
Hunter let the hint of a smile play over his lips. "Okay. You got me there. I'd rather have the whole damn load fall out than a frozen corpse."
When Jeff Feldman and Hunter entered the interrogation room, Ray had already been let in and his handcuffs had been removed. He had his arms folded on the table, his chair pushed back so he could rest his chin on his arms. He didn't smile when he saw Hunter, he just stared up at him with a hound dog face.
"Did they read you your rights?" Hunter asked him.
Ray nodded.
"And you know that you're being observed by the police through there." He indicated the dark mirrored surface of the window.
Ray nodded again. "He told me," he said, emphasizing the he and jerking his thumb at the lawyer.
Hunter and Jeff exchanged glances. "Jeff is your lawyer, Ray," said Hunter. "Why wouldn't you talk to him this morning?"
"I needed to talk to somebody I could trust "
"You can trust Jeff. He's on your side."
"I've never heard a lawyer being on anybody's side but his own," said Ray. "Bloodsuckers," he added.
"I'm just doing a job, Mr. Nillson, same as you do," said Jeff. "If I failed to act on my clients' behalf, I wouldn't be in business very long, would I?"
"Look, Ray," said Hunter. "You're in an ugly mess here. Like it or not, you need a lawyer to help you get out of it. Jeff's a good one, but he can't help you unless you cooperate with him. You don't have to tell h
im everything right now..." Hunter glanced meaningfully at the window. "... but your best bet is to be straight with him, you understand?"
Ray said nothing, just rubbed his forehead, wincing as if he had a headache. "Right now I don't much care if I get out of jail. What I want is for you to get Sharon out of here. She doesn't belong in prison, Hunter. Would it help if I confessed?"
Jeff was writing something on a legal pad, but his head shot up and he looked at Ray in alarm. Hunter motioned him not to interrupt.
"Confessed to what?" Hunter asked. Jeff put up a cautioning hand.
"You know. They think we killed that frozen guy they found beside the highway."
"If you killed him, then you should confess," Hunter said firmly, ignoring Feldman's grimace. "If you didn't, then confessing would be stupid, and you're not stupid, Ray."
Ray put his forehead back down on his arms and said nothing.
"The justice system isn't perfect, but most of the time it works. And you've got a smart lawyer. Just tell him the truth, in confidence, and he'll know how to handle your case to your advantage."
Ray looked up at Hunter, his chin still on his arms. "What about Sharon's advantage? He has to handle it to Sharon's advantage. That's my point. That's what I have to be sure of, don't you understand?"
"Sharon has her own lawyer. She's got a good lawyer, too."
Ray sat bolt upright. "What?! We don't have the same lawyer?"
Jeff took a deep breath, then said gently, "That's not possible, Mr. Nillson. It wouldn't be ethical."
Ray got to his feet, and a guard who had been watching from a small window in the rear door pushed the door open. "It's okay," Hunter said to the guard. "We're okay in here. Ray, you'd better sit down."
"What's not ethical," said Ray, barely letting his thighs rest on the edge of his chair, "is trying to play a husband against his wife and a wife against her husband."
"I know you want to take care of Sharon..."
"Sharon had nothing to do with anything! Sharon's completely innocent and they should never have arrested her. Let her go, you hear me?!" he shouted at the mirrored glass, on his feet again. "She didn't do anything and she doesn't know anything. Let her go!" Then he turned to Hunter. "That's why I gotta know," he said. "Would it help her if I confessed?"