by Mark Gimenez
Beck went to his cart, got the biggest baggie, and grabbed the scorecard pencil. He returned, squatted, and used the pencil to lift the towel from the ground and place it in the baggie. He flung the pencil into the brush next to the tee box and zipped the baggie locked.
He had Chase Connelly's blood. But he wouldn't have DNA results before Chase left town. So Beck decided to ratchet up the pressure. Beck scored a par on the hole; Chase had a ten. They walked off the green.
"Five grand, Chase."
"Give me your card, I'll send you a check."
Beck handed his business card to Chase. He stared at it a long moment then looked back at Beck.
"You're a judge?"
"Yep."
"Where's Gillespie County?"
"Out west of here."
"Never been there."
"Sure you have. Fredericksburg."
Chase's face changed. It was the same change Beck had seen in Luke's face when Beck told him his mother had died. Beck saw in his son's eyes the knowledge that his life had just changed for the worse. Beck saw the same knowledge in Chase's eyes.
"You called my wife."
"New Year's Eve, 2002, you were here for the film festival. You picked up a blonde girl named Heidi Geisel on Sixth Street. She probably called herself Heidi Fay. You gave her alcohol and cocaine and you had sex with her. And then she died in your limo. She was a sixteen-year-old minor, you were a twenty-nine-year-old man. That's statutory rape. You're also guilty of murder or at least manslaughter, but your lawyer—the same one you had settle with Heidi's mother for twenty-five million—he'll tell you we won't be able to convict you on murder or manslaughter, and he's probably right. But we can convict you of stat rape. So don't make plans for the Oscars."
"You can't prove nothing."
"Sure I can. We've got your DNA from Heidi." Beck shook his head. "Haven't you heard about safe sex?"
Chase coughed again. "You can't match that to me."
"Bet I can."
"I'm not giving you my DNA sample."
"You already have. Your cigar, your beer can, and your blood. I have that bloody towel, Chase. And I'm heading over to the DPS crime lab right now for DNA testing."
"You can't use those tests against me."
"What, you're a lawyer now? No, you're right, we can't use those tests to convict you, but we can use them to indict you. And then I'll issue a warrant for your arrest. I'll send it out to California, and the next day the L.A. cops will come to your house and handcuff you in front of your wife and daughter. They'll hand you over to the Gillespie County sheriff, and he'll fly you back here and drive you out to Gillespie County and throw you in his jail. You'll be convicted and sentenced to the maximum prison term. You ended Heidi's life. Now I'm fixing to end yours—at least your celebrity life."
Chase coughed and stumbled over to his cart. When he drove past, Beck touched his own lip and said, "Better have that looked at—you might need stitches."
Beck had four days—to get the bloody towel to the DPS crime lab, for the lab to complete the tests, and for the Gillespie County grand jury to indict Chase Connelly—all before midnight on New Year's Eve.
He drove the cart to his car in the parking lot. He stowed his clubs and changed his shoes. He returned the cart to the clubhouse and noticed a black limo parked in the fire lane. A large Latino man was leaning against the limo and smoking a cigarette. He was bald, like the limo driver Carlotta had seen that night in Fredericksburg. The Gillespie County grand jury could indict Chase on eyewitness testimony even without a DNA match. Beck walked over to the Latino man.
"Rudy?"
"I know you?"
"I know you."
Rudy flicked his cigarette aside. "How's that?"
"I just played golf with Chase. He's a piece of work."
Rudy smiled. "If he was twice the actor he thinks he is, he wouldn't be worth a shit. But he's got the looks, and that's all it takes in Hollywood."
"He gets a lot of girls?"
Rudy chuckled. "You'd need a calculator to keep count." He shook his bald head. "He's got the world on a leash."
"Bet you could write a book."
Rudy shook his head again. "Confidentiality agreement."
"He pay you well for your confidentiality?"
"You offering me a job?"
"A chance."
Rudy frowned. "For what?"
"To stay out of prison."
Rudy went pale. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about New Year's Eve five years ago, right here in Austin, you were driving when he picked up a blonde girl on Sixth Street. She died in your limo, Rudy."
"It was a rental."
"It was a hearse. You dumped her in that ditch, Rudy. And then you threw her black high heels into the river."
Beck had Rudy now.
"I found one of those shoes, Rudy. Thing is, Texas has been in a drought for seven years. So that river never flowed fast enough to wash those shoes downriver. I found one and the crime lab found your fingerprints on it. You've been in the system."
Beck was bluffing, but Rudy was nodding.
"Two strikes?"
Another nod.
"Three strikes and you're out. Rudy, once we match Chase's DNA to the sample from Heidi, we're going to indict him, try him, and send him to prison. Only question is, are you going to share a cell with him? Or are you going to play it smart, get immunity, and testify against him? You didn't give her the cocaine and you didn't have sex with her, but you're an accomplice. And I'm the judge of Gillespie County, where you dumped her. I can give you immunity in exchange for your testimony."
"What would I have to do?"
"Testify before the grand jury. Tomorrow. Or Saturday."
"I'll think about it."
"You do that."
Beck handed his business card to Rudy. He walked over to the Navigator, then turned back. Rudy was staring at him. Beck pointed at Rudy then at himself and held his hand to his ear with his thumb and pinky extended to fashion a telephone.
Beck dropped the bloody towel at the DPS crime lab and begged for expedited tests. He then drove over to the medical examiner's office. Dr. Janofsky met him at the front desk and led him back to the autopsy room. Beck had never witnessed an autopsy. Seeing Slade's massive body stretched out on the table and sliced open like a field-dressed deer, Beck got nauseous.
Dr. Janofsky said, "You don't look so good, Judge. Maybe we'd better step outside."
They did, and Beck splashed water from a fountain on his face. He followed the doctor to his office. Dr. Janofsky sat behind his desk and picked up two documents. He looked from one to the other.
"What is it, Doctor?"
"Test results."
"Slade's?"
He nodded. "And Heidi's."
"You ran more tests on her?"
"Just one. On the blood we saved from her. Judge, you said yesterday that Slade was the father of the baby she aborted?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Pretty sure. Why?"
Dr. Janofsky frowned. He placed both documents on the desk and pushed them across to Beck. He pointed.
It was after five when Beck drove through the black iron gate at the Hardin homestead. He drove up the caliche road toward the house, steering hard left then right then left. He hit the brakes. From that spot in the road, he could see the baseball field. Luke was batting, J.B. was pitching, and Libby and Jodie were shagging balls in the outfield. Meggie and the doll and Frank the goat were sitting in the bleachers behind the batting cage. Annie's dream had come true.
FORTY-ONE
The next morning Grady said, "You really think the limo driver will call?"
"Yes, I do," Beck said.
"I'll convene the grand jury Saturday," the D.A. said.
Mavis stuck her head in the door. "Judge, there's a call for you on line one. Someone named Rudy."
Beck said, "Bingo," then hit the speakerphone. "Rudy."
"Judge, I'm coming to see you. Tomorrow, while Chase is in the tournament. I'll be there about noon. I'll testify, but I want complete immunity. You get that done today and fax it to my lawyer in L.A."
Grady shook his head and whispered, "A goddamn limo driver's got a lawyer."
"And I've got evidence."
"What kind of evidence?"
"The girl's cell phone. With a photo of her and Chase in the limo that night."
"Bring it. And give me your cell phone number and your lawyer's number."
He did, and they hung up. "We got him," Beck said. "Chase Connelly killed Heidi. And now we can prove it."
The D.A. was all smiles.
FORTY-TWO
Noon came and went on Saturday, December 29th, but Rudy Jaramillo didn't show.
"He stood you up, Beck," Grady said.
"I've had the grand jury upstairs for three hours," the D.A. said. "I've got to let them go."
"Let me try his number again."
Beck engaged the speakerphone and dialed Rudy's cell phone number. He answered.
"Rudy?"
"No, Judge, it's Chase. Rudy's unavailable."
"You killed him."
Chase laughed. "Killed him? Judge, you've been watching too many of my movies. I gave him a paid vacation to Acapulco. He took my jet. It was a retirement gift. He won't be testifying before your grand jury."
"He has evidence, Chase."
"You mean the photo on the girl's cell phone that I bought from him for a million dollars?" Chase laughed. "Sorry, Judge, you lose."
"I haven't lost yet, Chase. I've still got your blood."
"Yeah, but you don't have the results yet or we wouldn't be talking. And my lawyer says you've got no shot at murder or manslaughter, or even delivery of drugs to a minor. Like you said, your only shot is stat rape, and for that to work, you've got to get the DNA results, they've got to match, and the grand jury's got to indict me by midnight on New Year's Eve or you can't touch me. You've got two days, Judge, and tomorrow's Sunday."
"You're rolling the dice, Chase."
"I'm a betting man, I told you that."
"I hope your luck is better than your golf game."
"I shot an eighty-four today. See you at the movies, Judge."
Chase coughed and hung up.
Grady said, "That boy is one country-sized prick."
"Beck," the D.A. said, "if you don't get those test results in the next, what? … fifty-seven hours? … then I don't get to try a movie star for stat rape, I don't get national publicity, and I don't get into the Governor's Mansion. And you don't get to be judge after next election. I do."
He walked out. Grady shook his head and turned to Beck.
"Course, Chase has got stiff competition for prick of the year."
Beck went home and spent the day with the children. At ten that night, after everyone else was asleep, he walked down to the winery. He turned on the computer and read Annie's words again. The tears came again, and he closed his eyes. He opened them when he heard a noise. Rudy Jaramillo was standing in the door. He was holding a gun. Beck's adrenaline kicked in and his heartbeat kicked up, but he tried to act calm.
"Rudy, you're not going to get immunity if you kill the judge."
"I'd rather have the money."
"I thought Chase sent you to Mexico?"
"He thinks so, too."
"You're freelancing?"
"I make my own career decisions."
"Well, Rudy, this is not a smart career move."
"Way I figure, if you're out of the way, I can go forward with my retirement plan."
"What retirement plan?"
"That photo's gonna pay me a million a year for life."
"Blackmailing Chase?"
Rudy nodded his bald head.
"He said he bought that photo."
"I kept a copy. Chase, he ain't so bright."
"So you kill me and extort Chase?"
"That has a nice ring to it, don't it?"
"Getting rid of me won't fix the problem, Rudy. That DNA sample over in Austin at the DPS lab, that's the problem. And that doesn't go away with me."
"I think it will."
"Thinking can be a dangerous thing for a man like you."
"We'll see."
"Aubrey, don't hit him too hard. That bung hammer weighs five pounds."
Rudy laughed. "What, I'm supposed to look behind me, so you can jump me, like in the movies?"
"No, you're supposed to stand real still while Aubrey whacks you in the head."
Which is exactly what Aubrey did. The five-pound cast-iron head of the bung hammer impacted Rudy just above his right ear and produced a sickening thud. Rudy's big body crumpled to the floor. Beck stood and kicked the gun away. Aubrey was holding the bung hammer in one hand and a beer in the other.
"Dang near spilled my beer." He stepped over Rudy. "Heard you talking. Saw this hammer hanging on the wall. Figured it'd do. I hit him pretty hard, Beck."
"Yeah."
Rudy's body lay motionless. Blood was flowing from his right ear. Beck squatted over Rudy and checked his pulse; he found none. He called Grady at home and told him that Rudy had shown up after all and that he was dead. Grady said he was on his way. Beck and Aubrey sat on the couch.
"Am I in trouble?" Aubrey asked.
"Not for this. Defense of a third-party. But you've got to quit."
"Hitting people in the head with a bung hammer?"
"Coaching."
Aubrey stared at his beer. "Coaching's all I know, Beck." He gestured with the bung hammer at Rudy. "Don't this count for something?"
"Yes, it does. Thanks for saving my life, Aubrey."
It was after midnight by the time Grady had come and gone with Rudy's body. Beck sat at the desk and dialed the number of Rudy's cell phone. Chase answered.
"Hello, Judge."
"Rudy's dead."
"In Mexico?"
"In my father's office."
"He knew your father?"
"No. He tracked me to my father's winery."
"Your father's got a winery?"
"Yes. He tried to kill me."
"Your father tried to kill you?"
"No. Rudy. Rudy tried to kill me."
"Why?"
"So he could use the photo to blackmail you."
"But I bought the photo from him."
"He kept a copy."
A sigh on the phone. "You can't trust anyone these days."
"Chase?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm gonna get you."
Chase Connelly hung up.
FORTY-THREE
"I've got to have those test results by midnight!"
Beck had called the DPS crime lab every hour on the hour all day and night Sunday, December 30th. No one answered. He made his first call on Monday, New Year's Eve, at 8:00 A.M. He left a message. He left another message at nine, ten, and eleven. It was now noon. He had exactly twelve hours to indict Chase Connelly.
Sitting across his desk were Grady and the D.A.
"I have the grand jury on standby," the D.A. said, "but I'm not calling them in until those test results come in. They're going to fax them over?"
Beck nodded. "They said expedited was four weeks. I gave them four days."
"So we don't know if they'll have results today or a month from today?"
"They're working on it. Last time I talked to them, they said they were having problems testing Chase's sample, said they had to use more sophisticated testing."
"That don't sound good," Grady said.
The D.A.: "Why?"
Beck shook his head. "They said they can run DNA tests only on white blood cells."
"So?"
"So I don't know. That's all they said."
"That don't sound good," Grady said again.
The cleaning lady arrived at 6:00 P.M. She was a sturdy white woman named Gertie. Carlotta had been deported in the ICE raid.
Aubrey arrived at 7:00 P.M. He just walk
ed in and sat in the chair in the corner. For the next four and half hours, they waited for the fax machine to ring. Ten times Aubrey walked over to the fax to check that it was plugged in and operational. But the fax never rang. At 11:35 P.M., Beck called the lab again. There was no answer. Beck looked at Aubrey in the corner.
"It's not going to happen, Aubrey. I'm sorry."
"We've still got twenty-five minutes."
"We've got twenty-five minutes to get the results and indict."
"The grand jury still upstairs?"
Beck nodded. The D.A. had convened the grand jury at nine on New Year's Eve. The twelve citizens were growing restless, but they had come in because Heidi had been the coach's daughter.
"I need to know the truth about Heidi."
"Aubrey, the truth is that Heidi was your daughter and you loved her."
"Tell me what you know, Beck. Everything."
"I've told you all I'm going to tell you."
"I'm entitled, Beck."
"No, you're not. You asked me to do this, and I did it for you because of what I did to you—"
"And to get some answers, for Meggie."
"Yeah, that too. Aubrey, you asked me to get justice for Heidi, and I tried. I know things about you and Randi and Heidi I don't want to know. But I'm the judge and you came to me for justice. So I know. And I have to live with it. You don't."
"I can handle it."
"No, you can't."
"Please, Beck."
Aubrey appeared on the verge of crying.
"I'll tell you one thing: forget about Randi. You don't want her back."
"Why not?"
"Just trust me. You don't want her back. And Aubrey, don't ever ask me again about this case. If that fax doesn't ring, this case ends at midnight."
It ended at midnight.
The grand jury left, the D.A. left, and then the sheriff left. Aubrey did not leave, so Beck said, "Go home, Aubrey. Or go to church. But this is a courthouse, I'm the judge, and the law has done all it can do."
Aubrey stood to leave.
"What are you going to do?" Beck said.
"Go home. I don't go to church no more."
"No. About coaching."
"I don't know."