Sweeney looked downward. “I’m...a bit of a germophobe.”
Jazlyn looked as if she were about to laugh out loud. “I will submit, Mr. Sweeney, that you took apart Christopher Andrus’ body in that workshop using tarps to contain the splatter of blood and flesh. Then you hauled off most of the body, viscera and all, to some undisclosed location. Then you scoured the workshop before the police could search.”
“This is a complete fantasy,” Sweeney said. He sounded shaken. His voice had a discernible tremor. “A total fabrication. Facts rearranged to fit your fantasy scenario.”
“The only remaining mystery is why you kept the head and hands.” Jazlyn paused. “Mr. Sweeney, isn’t it traditional in organized crime outfits for an assassin to bring the head and hands to the crime boss as proof of death? Or for a rival organization to send the head to an enemy as a warning?”
“I—I wouldn’t—”
“I will submit that the meeting at Beachcombers wasn’t about selling paintings. You were on mob business. You and Andrus both laundered money for the cartel. Something went sour and your Central American masters wanted Andrus eliminated. You agreed to do the dirty deed for them. You told him some lie to get him back to your office, then you killed him.”
“That’s absurd! Why would I—”
“You need money. Desperately. What better way to get cash under the table than to execute a mob hit?”
The stir in the courtroom swelled. Several jurors’ eyes widened. It was all starting to make a crazy sort of sense...
“The security camera footage is irrelevant,” Jazlyn continued. “I don’t know if you took him back to your office. I don’t care when your DNA fell onto the body parts. But you met with Andrus. Fought with him. And killed him. Brutally. Dismembered his body in your sadistic little workshop, then saved the head and hands so you could collect your payment. What you didn’t count on was Detective Kakazu finding them before you could get them to the head of the cartel.”
Speaking of...
Dan whipped his head around. Hernandez was no longer in the courtroom.
“That is not true!” Sweeney raised his voice. The jury stared at him, expressions of disgust all too easy to read. “None of this is true. None of it!”
“It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” Jazlyn said, turning away. “And the jury knows it just as well as I do.”
Chapter 44
Dan and Maria huddled in the deliberation room, trying to determine what they could possibly do next. Soon they would have to tell the judge whether they were resting the defense case. They didn’t want to end on such a disastrous, incriminating note. But the only way to extend the trial would be to call another witness. And who would that be?
Dinah entered bearing coffee.
Maria grabbed one. “My hero.”
Dan tucked his chin. “I thought I was your hero.”
“You’re my snuggle-bunny. It’s not the same.”
“But I want to be your hero.”
“Get a Starbucks account.” She sighed. “Or win this damn case.”
“I watched the jurors during Jazlyn’s cross,” Dinah said. “I don’t want to be the bearer of glum tidings, but they were buying it.”
“Of course they were buying it,” Dan replied. “It made sense. I still don’t think Sweeney committed this murder—but Jazlyn told the more compelling story.”
“I was surprised Sweeney didn’t do a better job of defending himself.”
“I know. At times it almost seemed as if he was...holding back. And since when did Sweeney ever hold anything back? He always comes on strong, firing with everything he’s got.” Dan pressed his hand against his forehead. “I watched the jury, too. They’re ready to convict.”
Dinah shoved a coffee cup into his hands. “Take. Drink. It may not be as gloomy as all that.” She grabbed a coffee for herself. “Garrett found Tulip Krakowski.”
Dan sat up straight. “What? When did this happen?”
“A few hours ago. While you were in court. Garrett is bringing her over now and grilling her as he drives. Truth is, she called us. She’s been in a hospital, but she heard about the trial. She was the woman at the Beachcombers meeting and she’s willing to testify.”
“If she can tell the jury the meeting was about paintings and not a cartel hit, that would help. If she can confirm that Sweeney never got angry and in fact needed Andrus to sell paintings, it would be even better.”
Dinah glanced at her phone. “Garrett is outside parking.”
Dan pushed to his feet. “Maria, call Jazlyn and get to the judge’s chambers. Tell him we need more time to prep a last-minute witness. Jazlyn won’t like it but, given the circumstances, I think Smulders will let it in. I’m going down to meet Ms. Krakowski.”
Dinah’s eyes brightened. “You think we still have a chance?”
Dan tilted his head uncertainly. “I think this is the last chance we’re going to get.”
* * *
Tulip Krakowski was a tiny woman who, as it turned out, had a huge reserve of strength. When she testified about overcoming the cartel assassin trying to kill her, it was hard not to admire her. But when she told the jury about her ordeal afterward, wandering in the desert, hungry, thirsty, lost—she had the jury hanging on every word.
“Deep down, I didn’t think I was going to make it,” Tulip said. “But I kept trying. And somehow I managed to survive. I believe it was for a reason. I think I was meant to be here. To tell what really happened.”
Dan couldn’t have chosen the words better himself. He’d had precious little time to prep her, but he was already impressed by the job she was doing. Despite only recently being released from the hospital, she looked strong. Confident. Underweight, understandably. Light brown hair. Dimple on the right cheek.
“How do you feel? Mentally and physically.”
“Fine. The doctors gave me a clean bill of health. And before I left, Vegas PD had a police psychiatrist named Susan Pulaski check me out. Wonderful woman. Said she admired my perseverance and saw no problem with me testifying.”
“Do you have any idea who the man who tried to kill you was?”
“He didn’t share his name with me and he didn’t have any ID on him. The cops still haven’t found his body. Personally, I hope it’s been picked apart by vultures. But he did speak with a Spanish accent. Which fits, all things considered.”
Dan knew what she meant, and he thought the jury did too. The cartel. Always the cartel.
“Let’s return to the meeting at Beachcombers. The jury has heard several different accounts of what happened. You were there, right?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I came with Kit. I was sort of his apprentice. I know, everyone assumed we were an item, but that just shows how gendered and stereotypical the world is. Kit was married, gay, and not remotely interested in me. But I was more than happy to learn from him. Whether I approved of everything he did or not, he had built a successful life over a long period of time in the art world, and there are not many people who can say that. He was living my dream.”
“So you...followed Andrus around?”
“Basically, yeah.”
“How did that work out?”
“I learned the ropes but, unfortunately, I learned much more.”
“Please explain.”
“Kit did more than merely traffic in art of dubious provenance. I know some have speculated that Sweeney was the cartel’s money launderer—but they’re wrong.”
Every juror straightened. Their eyes were riveted to the witness.
“It was Andrus. He sold paintings that had been...liberated by the cartel. He laundered money for the cartel. He was the funnel. Not Sweeney, at least not at the time of this meeting. Sweeney didn’t have enough business. But Kit did. I mean, how could anyone verify how much someone paid for a painting, or how much vig they gave the dealer? He’d launder the cartel’s cash, then get it back to them by overpaying for some
thing that was worthless or didn’t even exist.”
The jury was listening. And absorbing. But were they believing?
“Was there anything more to this operation?”
“Yes.” Tulip drew in her breath, obviously hesitant to proceed. “Kit got overconfident. He thought he’d discovered a way to skim a percentage of the laundered funds for himself—more than his agreed cut. He underestimated the cartel—a fatal error. The cartel has no patience for people who steal from them. Even though he was useful to them, once they realized he was cheating them—they put out a hit. Alejandro Hernandez himself came to Florida to see that the job got done. Kit’s days were numbered and he knew it. He tried to get me to help hide him, but what could I do? I reluctantly agreed to come to this meeting so he would have a witness. He wanted money up front from Sweeney so he could disappear. I wanted nothing to do with any of it.” She paused. “As it turned out, attending that meeting was a deadly mistake. I think they concluded Kit and I were working together. So the hit on him was extended to me.”
“Did you get any indication that Sweeney was going to carry out that hit?”
“No chance. He needed Kit. Badly.”
“One witness said there was a big fight at the Beachcombers meeting.”
“I didn’t see that. They argued a little, mostly over money, but there was no shouting. Both of these guys were too savvy to put on a show in public. And too desperate. They both needed to find a solution to their problems.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Kit didn’t want to do anything that would anger the cartel even more. He just needed some major cash so he could get out of town. I think Sweeney suspected as much, but he was desperate too. He wrote the check, but it wasn’t nearly enough for what he was asking.”
“Did you say anything during this meeting?”
“Very little. I got the distinct feeling we were being watched, and I don’t mean by that loser in the next booth. I mean the cartel. Somehow, they found out about the meeting. I got out of there as quickly as I could—but as it turned out, not quickly enough.”
“What happened afterward?”
“I got kidnapped and shipped to Vegas to be murdered.”
“Did the cartel also kill Andrus?”
“Objection,” Jazlyn said. “How could she possibly know? She was abducted and unconscious.”
“I can ask her if she knows,” Dan replied.
The judge nodded. “Overruled. I will allow the witness to draw reasonable inferences based upon her knowledge of the parties and the situation.”
Tulip answered. “I don’t know for sure what happened to Kit. But I know the cartel wanted him dead. It’s obvious to me that they used the body parts to frame Sweeney.”
“Why not just kill Sweeney?”
“They tried that. Didn’t work. He’s too smart, too well-protected. So they tried something else. Kill Kit, mutilate him, stash body parts in Sweeney’s freezer—that would guarantee he’d get the death penalty.”
“Objection,” Jazlyn said. “This is pure speculation.”
“Based upon experience,” the judge said. “The jury understands that the witness is theorizing based upon her knowledge of the people involved. Overruled.”
Dan continued. “Did you ever see anything that suggested my client killed Andrus?”
“No. Sweeney needed Kit. Kit had served Sweeney well for years. Sweeney was devoted to him.”
Devoted. Devoted.
Something was tugging at the corners of Dan’s brain. Tulip’s story made sense and miraculously turned Sweeney into a victim rather than a murderer. But something about this still bothered him...
Paintings. Laundering. Cash flow...
No, that wasn’t it. Something else.
Failure. Passion. Focus.
Somewhere in his head, a critical synapse snapped into place. He was getting warmer...
Intern. Devotion. Devotion. I would do anything...
Oh my God. Oh my God.
That was it.
And now, finally, everything made sense.
“Mr. Pike?” The judge was staring at him.
He realized he’d fallen silent too long. “Your honor, I have no more questions for this witness.”
Jazlyn rose. “No cross.”
He wasn’t surprised. Tulip was obviously telling the truth, and a lengthy cross would only reinforce everything she had said.
Judge Smulders peered down at him. “I assume the defense rests?”
“Actually, no, your honor. We have one more witness to call.”
“What purpose—”
“Sorry. But this case is not quite over yet.” He whirled around and gazed into the gallery. “The defense calls Prudence Hancock.”
Chapter 45
“Objection,” Jazlyn said, rising to her feet. “What is this about?”
“This is about,” Dan replied, more quietly than usual, “finding out what really happened. Which means we need to talk to someone who actually knows what really happened.”
Jazlyn didn’t wait for the judge to express his thoughts. “Your honor, Ms. Hancock works for the defendant. She’s obviously biased.”
“Which I’m sure you will bring out on cross. That hardly means she can’t testify.”
“She’s not on his witness list.”
Judge Smulders gave Dan a stern look. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” He took a step toward the judge, his eyebrows knitted together. “And I wish I had a fancy excuse, like fraud or newly discovered evidence. But I don’t. I can’t say we just learned about her, like our last witness. The truth is...I just figured it all out. I should’ve understood sooner, but I didn’t.”
“If this woman is not on the list—”
“The jury will never learn what happened unless this witness tells them.” His voice was almost pleading. “Don’t let my client go to prison because I was so dense. Please. I’m begging you. Isn’t learning the truth what matters most?”
The judge cleared his throat. “Madame Prosecutor, did you know about this witness?”
“I knew she existed,” Jazlyn said. “I didn’t have any reason to believe she knew anything relevant to the murder.”
“Did you interview her before trial?”
“Of course. She works closely with the defendant.”
“Then I’m going to allow this. There’s no ambush here. At best there was a minor procedural problem—”
“Your honor, I—”
Judge Smulders cut Jazlyn off with a wave of his hand. “The defense is not even required to submit a witness list. It’s a courtesy, nothing more. I’ve afforded both sides great leniency during this trial, and that includes you, Ms. Prentice. Because what matters most is not our procedural rules but that the jury gets the information it needs to make a fully informed decision. Defense counsel assures me this witness is important and I trust him, so I’m going to allow it. Your exception is noted.”
Jazlyn retreated. Unless Dan misread her, she wasn’t that upset. She’d made the objection her job required.
It was just possible that she, like he, had begun to realize that there was more to this case than anyone imagined.
“I object too.” This time it came from Prudence herself. She stood in the gallery, just behind the rail. “I’ve had no notice that I might be called. I don’t know anything about this.”
The judge tilted his head. “But you are in the courtroom. I’m afraid you’re subject to the jurisdiction of the court.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then the sheriff will be happy to escort you to a cell till you change your mind.”
She glared at Dan, her eyes like daggers. “This is a farce. More of Pike’s trademark courtroom trickery.” She pushed through the gate and headed for the stand. “Let’s get this joke over with.”
In due time. “Your honor,” Dan said, “may I have one minute before we begin?”
The judge nodded.
Dan t
urned to face the gallery—but Sweeney grabbed his hand. “I object,” he said.
“Sorry. You don’t get to do that.”
“You work for me.”
“And I am acting in your best interests.”
“I will not see Prudence subjected to your needling and questioning and—”
“Actually, I’m hoping she’ll do most of the talking.”
“She has been a loyal employee and I do not want to see her turned into a scapegoat.”
“Neither do I.”
“I’m telling you—”
He laid a hand on Sweeney’s shoulder and suddenly realized it was the first time he had ever deliberately touched the man. “Trust me.”
While Prudence settled in, Dan stepped outside the courtroom and called Garrett. It only took a minute to explain what he wanted.
He returned to the courtroom. “Please state your full name.”
“Prudence Chastity Hancock.”
“And what do you do for a living?”
“I’ve worked for Conrad Sweeney for the last nineteen, almost twenty years.”
“How did you come to be in his employ?”
“I was his intern, originally. When his business was much smaller than it is today, though still successful. I’ve had the pleasure of watching him turn a successful business into an empire. I’ve had the privilege of helping him make more donations and perform more charitable work than anyone else in this city. In the history of this city.”
“What’s your official position?”
She thought for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Do you have a title?”
She glanced at Sweeney, then back at Dan. “If so, I don’t know what it is.”
“You just do what my client tells you to do.”
“That’s about it.”
“In fact, I once heard you say you’d do anything for him.”
“Look, if you’re going to try to accuse me—”
“I’m not going to accuse you of anything.” Yet. “I just want the jury to have all the facts. You are aware that my client has been having financial problems, right?”
“Of course. I’m intimately involved in his business. I’ve helped execute loans and redirect cash.”
Final Verdict Page 23