Read Online Trial and Terror by ADAM L PENENBERG - Free Book Online
Authors: ADAM L PENENBERG
Ads: Link
found on a glass fragment embedded in one of your boots. How do you think it got there?”
SK raised an eyebrow. It was the first time she had displayed interest in anything Summer said. “What boots?”
“A pair of black St. Croix brand leather boots, size 7 1/2.”
SK crossed her arms, clenched her elbows with her hands, and hunched her shoulders, as if this would help her figure things out. If she was acting, Summer had to admit she was very good. It took a few seconds before SK managed to say, “I haven’t worn those boots in weeks, months maybe.”
Summer bit her lip. The first lie was key, a foundation for the rest. But whose lie? SK’s? The police’s? No matter what, Summer would have to construct SK’s case around it. But she didn’t have time now to explore now. “After Gundy let Brauer cop an insanity plea, you threatened to kill him the day Brauer walked.”
SK got up to pace. Summer could see she was struggling against tears. “My late husband and I were very close. He was the reason I turned my life around. But after the funeral, I realized killing Gundy wouldn’t accomplish anything. I could do more by carrying on my husband’s work.”
Spiv knocked on the glass and playfully gave Summer the finger.
“Time’s up,” Summer said. “I’ll be back.”
“Wait!” SK rushed toward her.
Startled, Summer backpedalled.
“Whoa.” SK stopped, palms up. “I… I didn’t do it.”
“I heard you at the arraignment.”
SK spat a swirl of denials. She hadn’t been at Gundy’s that night. She’d been as shocked as anyone when she heard the news. She would never take the law into her own hands. It was all a big mistake. Or she’d been framed. But she was innocent.
All of Summer’s clients denied their crimes, even after plea bargaining; denied them to the cops, to their neighbors, to their cell mates, and especially to their lawyer. Deny, deny some more, until they began to believe it themselves.
Summer heard Spiv unbolt the door. “Last question today: How did police photos of your late husband—with your fingerprints—end up in Gundy’s apartment?”
SK swallowed hard. “I left them there.”
Part II
REASONABLE DOUBTS
Chapter 8
Summer squeezed into her office with Levi, sipping coffee. The walls were lead-chip white, bare except for a bulletin board tacked with layers of index cards with scribbled notes and a calendar of Ansel Adams landscapes. Summer, because she liked surprises, rarely flipped ahead.
Levi had his feet up on her desk, the only place there was room for them. “Guess who I had dinner with last night? I’ll give you a hint: If you poured water into him, he’d leak.”
Summer lifted Levi’s feet off her desk, slid over to the coffee maker, refilled her cup, lifted his feet again, and made her way back to her chair. “Jimi Cruz?”
Levi couldn’t contain his smile.
“You visited my favorite trustafarian at the jail?” Summer asked.
“Better than that,” Levi said. “I got Raines to let him go, provided he leave town.”
Just as Marsalis had predicted. Summer’s heart shimmied. “When I suggested Cruz clear out, Raines tried to get me disbarred.”
“Oh, so now you admit telling him to scram.”
Summer regretted that admission. She had to be more careful, had to keep her mind on her work. She bunched her hair up and fanned her neck with her hand. “Good thing I’m covered under lawyer-client confidentiality,” she joked.
“Good thing,” Levi repeated, obviously annoyed. “Well, timing is everything. I picked Cruz up at the jail, threw him in my car, handed him a couple of burgers and a couple twenties, and drove him to the bus station. I made sure he got on the bus and waved bye-bye.” Levi checked his watch. “He ought to be panhandling in Vegas by now.”
“Probably already making some Las Vegas P.D.’s life miserable,” Summer said. The hearing, Raines’s threats, Hightower’s letter of complaint to the
SK raised an eyebrow. It was the first time she had displayed interest in anything Summer said. “What boots?”
“A pair of black St. Croix brand leather boots, size 7 1/2.”
SK crossed her arms, clenched her elbows with her hands, and hunched her shoulders, as if this would help her figure things out. If she was acting, Summer had to admit she was very good. It took a few seconds before SK managed to say, “I haven’t worn those boots in weeks, months maybe.”
Summer bit her lip. The first lie was key, a foundation for the rest. But whose lie? SK’s? The police’s? No matter what, Summer would have to construct SK’s case around it. But she didn’t have time now to explore now. “After Gundy let Brauer cop an insanity plea, you threatened to kill him the day Brauer walked.”
SK got up to pace. Summer could see she was struggling against tears. “My late husband and I were very close. He was the reason I turned my life around. But after the funeral, I realized killing Gundy wouldn’t accomplish anything. I could do more by carrying on my husband’s work.”
Spiv knocked on the glass and playfully gave Summer the finger.
“Time’s up,” Summer said. “I’ll be back.”
“Wait!” SK rushed toward her.
Startled, Summer backpedalled.
“Whoa.” SK stopped, palms up. “I… I didn’t do it.”
“I heard you at the arraignment.”
SK spat a swirl of denials. She hadn’t been at Gundy’s that night. She’d been as shocked as anyone when she heard the news. She would never take the law into her own hands. It was all a big mistake. Or she’d been framed. But she was innocent.
All of Summer’s clients denied their crimes, even after plea bargaining; denied them to the cops, to their neighbors, to their cell mates, and especially to their lawyer. Deny, deny some more, until they began to believe it themselves.
Summer heard Spiv unbolt the door. “Last question today: How did police photos of your late husband—with your fingerprints—end up in Gundy’s apartment?”
SK swallowed hard. “I left them there.”
Part II
REASONABLE DOUBTS
Chapter 8
Summer squeezed into her office with Levi, sipping coffee. The walls were lead-chip white, bare except for a bulletin board tacked with layers of index cards with scribbled notes and a calendar of Ansel Adams landscapes. Summer, because she liked surprises, rarely flipped ahead.
Levi had his feet up on her desk, the only place there was room for them. “Guess who I had dinner with last night? I’ll give you a hint: If you poured water into him, he’d leak.”
Summer lifted Levi’s feet off her desk, slid over to the coffee maker, refilled her cup, lifted his feet again, and made her way back to her chair. “Jimi Cruz?”
Levi couldn’t contain his smile.
“You visited my favorite trustafarian at the jail?” Summer asked.
“Better than that,” Levi said. “I got Raines to let him go, provided he leave town.”
Just as Marsalis had predicted. Summer’s heart shimmied. “When I suggested Cruz clear out, Raines tried to get me disbarred.”
“Oh, so now you admit telling him to scram.”
Summer regretted that admission. She had to be more careful, had to keep her mind on her work. She bunched her hair up and fanned her neck with her hand. “Good thing I’m covered under lawyer-client confidentiality,” she joked.
“Good thing,” Levi repeated, obviously annoyed. “Well, timing is everything. I picked Cruz up at the jail, threw him in my car, handed him a couple of burgers and a couple twenties, and drove him to the bus station. I made sure he got on the bus and waved bye-bye.” Levi checked his watch. “He ought to be panhandling in Vegas by now.”
“Probably already making some Las Vegas P.D.’s life miserable,” Summer said. The hearing, Raines’s threats, Hightower’s letter of complaint to the
Similar Books
