Read Online Prosecution: A Legal Thriller by D.W. Buffa - Free Book Online Page B

moment. "I haven't seen too many changes that were for
the better, have you?"
     
    We were looking at each other, caught in our
different memories of the past and the things that had altered our
lives forever. "I suppose not," I replied.
     
    Horace turned away, his hands in his lap, his two
dead legs spread apart, watching out the window. "It's all an
illusion," he said presently. "The whole idea of progress. The
important things haven't changed. They never will." His voice was
barely audible.
     
    "Do you believe him?" Horace asked suddenly.
"Goodwin?" His face turned slightly to the side, away from the
outside light. "You still think he might be telling the truth?"
     
    "I'm not sure I'm ready to take this to trial,
Horace," I admitted.
     
    Shifting his weight, he pulled the chair closer to
the desk and rested both arms on top of it. "When I was DA, there
were times when I wasn't absolutely sure. Sometimes there was a
question, something that bothered me about it." He studied me for a
moment. "You never had that problem, did you? You never had to
worry about whether the defendant was really guilty. I worried
about it all the time. It's the worst thing there is, that fear
that you might convict someone for something they didn't do.
Everybody can talk all they want about letting the jury decide.
You're the one who gets to lie awake in the middle of the night
wondering if you made a mistake. Winning is supposed to be the only
thing that matters, but let me tell you something: there were a few
cases I didn't mind losing."
     
    Searching his eyes, I asked, "You don't have any
doubt about Goodwin?"
     
    "I'm not prosecuting this case. You're the one who
has to decide." With both hands, Horace pushed himself out of the
chair. "Sure you don't want some?" he asked, as he walked in his
rigid stride toward the metal coffeepot on the other side of the
room. After refilling his cup, he moved toward a black-and white
photograph in a simple black wooden frame hanging on the wall next
to where the bookshelves ended.
     
    "That was us," he remarked, tapping his knuckle
against it. There were twenty or thirty men and women, each of them
wearing an identical T-shirt. "Woolner's Warriors." He laughed. "We
were in a softball league. Slow pitch,"
    he explained. "I was the manager, I guess because I
could yell louder than anybody else. That's Goodwin, right next
    to me. He was maybe the best athlete on the team. He
could run like a deer." His head moved back and forth like a
fighter's. "You know, I liked him. I really did."
     
    I got up and went over to where he stood. "Kristin in
it?" I asked, moving closer until the photograph was right in front
of me. I found her, second from the left in the back row, about as
far away from Goodwin as possible. Everyone in the photograph
worked in the district attorney's office, and nearly half of them
were women, but there was something in her large dark eyes that
drew you toward her and, when you looked away, made you want to
look back.
     
    Horace was watching me. "Maybe she's the motive," he
suggested tentatively.
     
    I kept staring at her, reluctant to stop. "Kristin
could be the motive for a lot of things," I acknowledged, looking
away. "But all he had to do was get a divorce. Why have his wife
murdered?"
     
    "For the money," Horace replied with a shrug, as he
headed back to his desk.
     
    Lingering next to the photograph, my hands shoved
into my pockets, I asked, "You ever notice anything about her?
Anything about the two of them?"
     
    "Everybody noticed her." Horace snorted. "Tough not
to. But between them? No. In fact, if I remember right, she was
engaged to somebody."
     
    "Someone in the office?"
     
    "No one I knew. Actually, I don't think I ever met
him," he remarked, his face turned up toward the light that fell
from the window. "She was almost too good looking. You know what I
mean? Most guys wouldn't think they had a chance with her. When
word got around she was engaged, I'd bet you