Missing Justice sk-2 Read online

  the property.

  "Anyway," he continued, "Jackson gave his information to a girl we use

  for personnel-related stuff, and that's about all I had to do with him.

  Then Friday I'm working at the site late, checking out the status of

  things, and I see Jackson packing away some paint into his van. I

  didn't recognize him, so I asked the guy his name. I remembered it

  from when Larry told me to hire him, so I told him, Go ahead and take

  it. Then I called Larry."

  "What was his reaction?"

  "Nothing special. Just thanked me for telling him about it. Next

  thing I know, we got a body on our hands Monday and Jackson's getting

  arrested for it."

  "Why didn't you call the police?"

  "So I'm not a good Samaritan. Sue me."

  I wasn't buying it. If his decisions today said anything about his

  behavior generally, Minkins was self-interested. No way did he sit

  there silently while Gunderson dragged him into the middle of this.

  "You're leaving something out. How'd you wind up at the library?"

  He pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling. "So you did make me. I

  was beginning to wonder."

  Sucker.

  "When I saw the news about Jackson, I asked Larry what the fuck was

  going on. All he said was and I remember this "Take a lesson from it,

  Billy, and keep your mouth shut." Scared the shit out of me. So I

  started doing some snooping around of my own. Figured if I got the

  goods on whoever pulled that shit on Jackson and the lady judge, they

  couldn't pull anything on me."

  "And what did you find out?"

  "Not a lot. I know Larry's leveraged up the ass trying to keep the

  bills paid. And I know you were doing some serious research into the

  urban growth boundary."

  "You're still not telling me why you were following me, Billy."

  "It was stupid, OK? I watched the news Friday about the hearing, and

  they said something about there being a shooting at your house last

  month. I was thinking about trying to work something out with you, so

  I went by Saturday morning, just because I wasn't doing nothing else.

  Then I saw you driving away. Next thing I know, I'm following you

  around the library. When I saw what you was working on, I realized I

  didn't have a fucking clue about what was going on, and I was like to

  get myself in more trouble than be able to help myself."

  "But now you're coming clean anyway."

  "Well, when you said what you said earlier, I figured it was about the

  only choice I had. Larry sure as hell ain't gonna take care of me."

  It sounded credible. I could see a guy like Billy Minkins feeling

  desperate enough to follow me around while he tried to figure out what

  to do. Thanks to the local news, anyone who was curious could find out

  what block I lived on from a search of the Internet.

  "Did you tell Gunderson about the library?" I asked.

  "No way. I hightailed it out of there and laid low. I ain't saying

  I'm perfect. Hell, it's not like I'm blind it's not every businessman

  who's gonna let a guy like me take care of an operation. But no way

  did I sign up to be in the middle of a murder trial and whatever crap

  led up to it."

  "You certainly don't sound like someone who trusts Larry Gunderson.

  How'd you hook up with him anyway?"

  Minkins let out a chuckle. "AA. Court-ordered after my check-writing

  scheme went awry. I couldn't get work after that, and Larry'd been in

  the program for years. Fucking ironic, ain't it?"

  There's a reason guys like Minkins wind up in the system. Instead of

  taking some responsibility for the decision that led him to this room,

  he had found a way to blame it on the only chance a court had given him

  to get his life under control. But Minkins seemed to think I liked

  him, so I kept my mouth shut.

  "Do you know of any connection between Gunderson and Clarissa

  Easterbrook?"

  "Other than her body being found there? Nope."

  "Do you know anything about Gunderson paying bribes or kickbacks to her

  or any other public officials?"

  "Nope, but I wouldn't put it past him."

  "Are you going to bother telling me what you're fishing for, Kincaid?"

  Leave it to Lisa Lopez to think she's not doing her job unless she

  butts in every once in a while.

  "Me telling you what I think isn't part of this deal," I said. "What

  matters is your client telling me what he knows, and I'm trying to make

  sure he's done that."

  I asked a few more questions, but I couldn't get anything more out of

  him.

  Lopez could tell the debriefing was coming to a close. "There you go,

  Kincaid. Billy never even broke the law, so I want assurances that he

  doesn't face potential prosecution. And his PO better not jam him up,

  either."

  "But he hasn't given me anything, Lisa. He said it himself. He

  doesn't know what happened."

  "You've got more than you had before. And he might not know all the

  details, but that's because he doesn't have anything to do with it."

  She was right. That's the problem with our system of flipping. Those

  who have the most to trade are the ones least deserving of a break. If

  Minkins was telling the truth, he had some serious moral shortcomings

  but he wasn't a murderer.

  "Fine, but only after he passes a poly."

  Billy Minkins had his own priorities. "And I want some protection."

  "Explain it to him. Lisa. I'm not exactly running a witness

  protection program here."

  "Fuck that noise," Minkins said. "I get the impression you don't know

  any more about what's going on than I do. You turn me loose after

  Gunderson knows I cut a deal, and I might wind up like that judge of

  yours."

  Shoot. Why didn't I think of that?

  There was only one way to swing this, and it all depended on how badly

  Billy wanted protection. As it turned out, he was more scared than I

  thought.

  Lisa and I told Prescott's clerk that we were ready and returned to the

  courtroom. Thorpe and Gunderson were already there, presumably waiting

  for Slip to call Gunderson to the stand pursuant to the subpoena.

  "We're back on the record," Judge Prescott made clear. "Mr. Minkins

  has chosen to proceed with separate counsel, and he is now present and

  represented by Lisa Lopez. The motion to quash the subpoenas served

  upon Larry Gunderson and William Minkins is quashed. Mr. Szlipkowsky,

  you may proceed to question your witnesses."

  This had happened too quickly. I hadn't had a chance to talk to Slip.

  I crossed my fingers and hoped that the fifty-fifty odds would fall my

  way.

  "The defense calls Larry Gunderson to the stand."

  I exhaled a sigh of relief, and Jim Thorpe rose. "Excuse me, your

  honor. It was my understanding that the purpose of the prosecutor's

  conference with Ms. Lopez was to determine whether Mr. Minkins was

  offering testimony that would warrant an offer of immunity to him. As

  your honor is well aware, such conferences often invite fabrications,

  especially where as in Mr. Minkins's situation the person being

  questioned i
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  on probation and therefore subject to the whim of law enforcement. It

  only seems fair that my client should know what occurred in that

  conference before being questioned."

  Somewhere along the road, when I wasn't looking, Prescott had truly

  come into her own. Without asking any guidance from the other

  attorneys, she reached the right conclusion. "Mr. Gunderson is merely

  a witness in these proceedings, not the accused. He has no standing to

  request information about other witness's potential testimony. Please

  instruct your client to take the witness seat."

  Thorpe whispered some last minute advice in his ear and Gunderson took

  the stand. Short, round, and balding, he might have appeared jolly

  under happier circumstances. But here, his expression was stern but

  concerned as he repeated the same response to each of Slip's questions:

  "On the advice of counsel, I decline to answer pursuant to my Fifth

  Amendment rights."

  Although typically the bane of my existence, today the words were music

  to my ears. Larry Gunderson, the supposedly disinterested landowner,

  was invoking his rights. It was better than anything I could have

  hoped for.

  When Slip had finished his list of questions, he called Minkins to the

  stand. To everyone's surprise (well, maybe not everyone's), Minkins

  also invoked his Fifth Amendment rights. When the questioning was

  done, I rose.

  "Your honor, at this point, I would request that the sheriff's deputy

  place Mr. Minkins in custody on a probation detainer pursuant to the

  request of his probation officer."

  "This is ludicrous, your honor." I wasn't surprised at Lisa's acting

  skills. Having seen her profess her faith in her clients time and time

  again in court, I knew she could pull it off. "Ms. Kincaid is

  obviously penalizing my client for invoking his Fifth Amendment

  rights."

  "Ms. Lopez is forgetting, your honor, that Mr. Minkins was a defense

  witness, not a suspect. The State is continuing to pursue its case

  against the defendant, Melvin Jackson, and is simply informing the

  court of a decision by the probation department. The probation officer

  has already faxed a formal detainer to the sheriff's department. He is

  concerned about Mr. Thorpe s earlier representation about Mr.

  Minkins's whereabouts at the time of the offense. The witness is on

  supervision for a forgery that arose from an alcohol and gambling

  addiction."

  Moments later, Minkins was led away in cuffs, where he'd be safe and

  sound in a relatively clean and comfortable county holding cell until I

  told his PO it was time for a hearing. It wasn't the Four Seasons, but

  it provided the protection Minkins was after.

  Larry Gunderson's head looked like it was about to explode. My guess

  was that he had been tempted to perjure his way through the

  questioning, but was smart enough to play it safe once he assumed that

  Minkins had given him up. It's nearly impossible to make your way

  through an interrogation when you don't know what cards the questioner

  has already drawn. Any screwups would be under oath and on the record,

  preventing him from wiggling around at a trial down the road.

  Lisa threw me a glance before leaving the courtroom. Other lawyers

  might have worried about the long-term repercussions of crossing

  another attorney, especially one as powerful as Jim Thorpe. But Lisa

  Lopez, ever the true believer, did what was best for Minkins.

  "Unless someone has further need of Mr. Thorpe and his client,"

  Prescott said, "the two of you are free to leave as well." They almost

  looked surprised when no one spoke up.

  With the witnesses gone, Prescott asked Slip if he had any additional

  witnesses.

  "No, your honor."

  "Rebuttal, Ms. Kincaid."

  "None."

  Slip and I went through the motions on argument. He wove the strongest

  conspiracy story he could given the information he had. I stood by my

  case against Jackson, emphasizing that any questions about possible

  conspiracies must be decided by the jury. If anyone from the office

  called Prescott to check up on me, it would look like I'd played my

  proper role in the system. I wasn't looking for a dismissal against

  Jackson, just enough of a reaction from the court to get my office's

  attention.

  When we were done arguing, Judge Prescott gave me what I needed.

  "All right, I don't know what exactly happened in here today, but I'm

  ready to rule."

  When I got back to my office, I was greeted by a note on my chair. See

  me ASAP. And, no, that doesn't mean after a quick run. Russ.

  I didn't go for a run, but I did take a second to check my voice mail:

  two defense attorneys, a victim, and my father. Since I had changed my

  outgoing message to say I'd be in court all day, the callbacks could

  wait.

  In Russell's office, I did my best to look worn out from my crazy

  morning. "Hey, there. I'm finally out of the Jackson prelim." I held

  up the note he'd left for me.

  "What the hell's going on over there? Your gem of an ex-husband called

  Duncan a couple of hours ago claiming you were sabotaging your own

  case. Something about you telling the defense attorney to subpoena

  some clients you called him about over the weekend?"

  Russell had been good to me so far, so I almost felt bad about lying to

  him. Almost. "Roger's got his head up his ass. The defense

  subpoenaed the same witnesses I asked him about, because anyone giving

  a second thought about this case would be asking the same questions. If

  anyone should be in trouble, it's him. He's thinking more about the

  other clients than he is about Townsend."

  "Sounds like a conflict," he said.

  "I thought so too, but apparently all the clients signed off on it."

  "So what was the end result?" he asked.

  "Prescott found probable cause, but not without a fight. She said on

  the record that the defense had raised serious questions about whether

  we had the entire story, and that we skated through only because the

  standard of proof's so low. Oh, yeah, and the media were in the

  courtroom."

  "You're fucking shitting me."

  "I shit you not. After the morning I've had, I am in a strictly non

  shitting mode of communication." I did my best to sound upset, but now

  I had the office right where I needed it. No way would Duncan permit

  the bureau to continue ignoring the evidence pointing to Gunderson.

  "I'm almost afraid to ask: Who are these witnesses?"

  "Larry Gunderson, who owns the Glenville construction site, and Billy

  Minkins, who works for him."

  "For the love of God, Kincaid. Not this again. The defendant's mom

  says one thing to you 'my boy ain't never had a job so good' and ever

  since then you can't let it drop."

  His Mrs. Jackson impersonation wasn't half bad.

  "It's more than that, Russ." But before I got a chance to explain it

  all to him, his phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he decided to

  answer it.

  "Hi, Duncan .. . Yeah, she's right he
re.. .. No, Prescott found

  probable cause, but it's a little more complicated than that.. .. OK,

  yeah, we'll be right down." Russ hopped out of his chair as he hung

  up. "I'll do what I can for you, Samantha, but if I were you I'd hold

  my nose and pucker up, because you've got some serious ass-kissing in

  front of you."

  In the couple of minutes it took to run down the back stairs to

  Duncan's office, I managed to give Russ at least the big picture. I

  left out the part about my role in steering Slip's action, but I did

  tell him about the contents of Clarissa's safe deposit box and

  Gunderson's stake in the urban growth boundary.

  "So what's your theory?"

  "I'm not done telling you everything yet."

  "Reader's Digest version, Kincaid. Duncan's waiting for us."

  "I think Clarissa had some kind of deal with Gunderson where she agreed

  to rule in his favor on his appeal. I also think that Gunderson has a

  lot to lose if the urban growth boundary doesn't expand in Glenville,

  and that Clarissa's affair with Caffrey had something to do with that.

  For whatever reason, though, Clarissa was thinking about blowing the

  whistle "

  A voice cut me off. "Where the hell are they?" Shit. It was Duncan

  standing in the hallway, apparently counting the seconds to make sure