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Authors: ADAM L PENENBERG
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picked up another photo and held it close. “His skull was caved in. Can we assume these are bottle fragments mixed in with the shards of the table?”
Summer was barely listening, her attention focused on a detail within the crime photo: pictures of Jonathan Sadbury, SK’s late husband. The word “shame” was scrawled on them.
“It’s pretty grim.” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat. “Strong motive, no alibi, his, uh, blood found in SK’s home, her fingerprints on his front door and on the pictures Gundy was clutching when the police found him.”
Levi blew on his coffee. “You know Raines will portray that as Gundy identifying his murderer before croaking. A deathbed clue always plays well with a jury.”
“What we need is an eye witness.” Summer skimmed the file. “No witnesses yet, but the D.A. doesn’t have to give me any of that until a judge is assigned.”
“Even then they’ll probably dick you around,” Rosie said. “You know how they like to play the delay game.”
“Not this time,” Levi said. “It’s high-profile for Haze County, and they figure it’s a slam-dunk win for them. My hunch is they’ll bend over backwards to give you everything you ask for, so there’s no way you can cry foul.”
“It’s sad that it takes Gundy’s murder to elicit cooperation from the D.A.,” Summer said. “So you think they’re going with a circumstantial case?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Levi squinted at a close-up of Gundy’s glass-riddled side; then, shuddering, turned it face-down on the carpet. “The cops are going to be extra cautious with the investigation. If they locate a witness, they’re going to check out his testimony before clueing you in. But I also think, given the circumstances, that Raines is going to feign graciousness.”
Summer asked, “Do you think he’ll extend this graciousness by using his influence to get SK moved to a decent cell? She’s being held in Dante-like conditions. It’d sure help me wrangle more cooperation out of her.”
“How’d your meeting go?” Levi asked.
“I got her to talk a little bit, but she’s not exactly thrilled with me. She might even do a Marsden.”
“If that happens, I’ll take her,” Rosie said.
“If she’s successful, you can have her,” Summer said.
Levi mulled. “Let me work on getting her moved. I’ve piled up a few chits with the warden over the years. Assuming this goes to trial, I want you to paper Judge Kelly if he’s assigned. You know how tight he and the court magistrate are.”
“We’re still pushing him off cases?” Summer asked.
Rosie twirled hair around her finger. “I had him a couple of weeks ago, when we thawed. The only good thing is my client will probably get another trial on appeal, since Kelly totally fucked him.”
“He hasn’t done a trial in weeks,” Levi said, “so he’ll express interest in any case. I hear the other judges are mighty pissed with him. Hope this teaches him lesson, though I’m not counting on it.”
“What’s with the lipstick marks on the back?” Rosie asked.
“It’s maroon,” Levi teased. “Your shade.”
“Every shade is Rosie’s shade,” Summer said. A memory fragment: Wib putting down the telephone, pulling down the shades, the only time she could remember him scared. Summer was eleven, twelve maybe. Wib being stalked, the family threatened, another time, another place, but the same marks.
“Jon,” Summer said, “were you around for the Sean Strickland case?”
Levi belched silently. “Not that it ever got to us, but yeah, I remember. About, what, more than a dozen years ago? A serial freak who had it in for law enforcement—a cop, D.A., his parole officer. Left some weird calling card.”
“Strickland bashed his victims’ skulls in, then drew marks on their backs after they were dead. My father was the cop on that case.” What she didn’t tell him was that he had almost been a victim, too.
“If Strickland
Summer was barely listening, her attention focused on a detail within the crime photo: pictures of Jonathan Sadbury, SK’s late husband. The word “shame” was scrawled on them.
“It’s pretty grim.” Her voice cracked, so she cleared her throat. “Strong motive, no alibi, his, uh, blood found in SK’s home, her fingerprints on his front door and on the pictures Gundy was clutching when the police found him.”
Levi blew on his coffee. “You know Raines will portray that as Gundy identifying his murderer before croaking. A deathbed clue always plays well with a jury.”
“What we need is an eye witness.” Summer skimmed the file. “No witnesses yet, but the D.A. doesn’t have to give me any of that until a judge is assigned.”
“Even then they’ll probably dick you around,” Rosie said. “You know how they like to play the delay game.”
“Not this time,” Levi said. “It’s high-profile for Haze County, and they figure it’s a slam-dunk win for them. My hunch is they’ll bend over backwards to give you everything you ask for, so there’s no way you can cry foul.”
“It’s sad that it takes Gundy’s murder to elicit cooperation from the D.A.,” Summer said. “So you think they’re going with a circumstantial case?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Levi squinted at a close-up of Gundy’s glass-riddled side; then, shuddering, turned it face-down on the carpet. “The cops are going to be extra cautious with the investigation. If they locate a witness, they’re going to check out his testimony before clueing you in. But I also think, given the circumstances, that Raines is going to feign graciousness.”
Summer asked, “Do you think he’ll extend this graciousness by using his influence to get SK moved to a decent cell? She’s being held in Dante-like conditions. It’d sure help me wrangle more cooperation out of her.”
“How’d your meeting go?” Levi asked.
“I got her to talk a little bit, but she’s not exactly thrilled with me. She might even do a Marsden.”
“If that happens, I’ll take her,” Rosie said.
“If she’s successful, you can have her,” Summer said.
Levi mulled. “Let me work on getting her moved. I’ve piled up a few chits with the warden over the years. Assuming this goes to trial, I want you to paper Judge Kelly if he’s assigned. You know how tight he and the court magistrate are.”
“We’re still pushing him off cases?” Summer asked.
Rosie twirled hair around her finger. “I had him a couple of weeks ago, when we thawed. The only good thing is my client will probably get another trial on appeal, since Kelly totally fucked him.”
“He hasn’t done a trial in weeks,” Levi said, “so he’ll express interest in any case. I hear the other judges are mighty pissed with him. Hope this teaches him lesson, though I’m not counting on it.”
“What’s with the lipstick marks on the back?” Rosie asked.
“It’s maroon,” Levi teased. “Your shade.”
“Every shade is Rosie’s shade,” Summer said. A memory fragment: Wib putting down the telephone, pulling down the shades, the only time she could remember him scared. Summer was eleven, twelve maybe. Wib being stalked, the family threatened, another time, another place, but the same marks.
“Jon,” Summer said, “were you around for the Sean Strickland case?”
Levi belched silently. “Not that it ever got to us, but yeah, I remember. About, what, more than a dozen years ago? A serial freak who had it in for law enforcement—a cop, D.A., his parole officer. Left some weird calling card.”
“Strickland bashed his victims’ skulls in, then drew marks on their backs after they were dead. My father was the cop on that case.” What she didn’t tell him was that he had almost been a victim, too.
“If Strickland
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