Death Row (41 page)

"So at this point," Ben said, "Rothko had his formula. He used it to build his restaurant chain into the great success it is today. Another man had been convicted for his crime. He must've thought he was scot-free."

"Indeed he did," Mike agreed. "Until he ran into Erin Faulkner at the penitentiary in McAlester the night Goldman was almost executed. He had a brief conversation with her and it convinced him that she was about to recant her identification, which of course would reopen the whole case. Rothko couldn't allow that. He killed her-though not before she spoke to you, Mr. Kincaid-and he made it look like suicide, which in Erin 's case was always plausible."

"What about Sheila Knight?"

"Sheila was Erin 's best friend. She had been with Erin at McAlester, and she'd seen and heard Rothko talking to her. He saw her, too, and he knew who she was. Just to play it safe, after he killed Erin, he kept an eye on her. Sheila had been told that the police suspected Erin was murdered, and that Erin had allegedly recanted her testimony, and when she put that together with the conversation in McAlester, she eventually became convinced that had been the reason Erin was killed. Sheila hadn't recognized Rothko in McAlester, but being a relatively famous person locally"-he glanced at Christina-"and one of Tulsa 's most eligible bachelors, it was only a matter of time before she identified him, particularly after the hostage incident in one of his restaurants. His picture was in the
World
the day she died; I think she saw it and recognized him. At any rate, Rothko couldn't take the risk. He followed her to a lakeside cabin-he had a cabin himself nearby-and found the paper open to his picture and Sheila in a frenzy. When she saw him, she panicked. Called him a murderer. Ran away. At that point, he had no choice. Another loose end needed to be tied. She had to die."

"Why did he try to kill Hayley Bennett?"

"Same story, really. She spotted him in your office. She knew she'd seen him before-and not in the society pages. Frank Faulkner was also her patient. He was struggling with office stress-but also, apparently..." How to put this? There was no point in destroying the man's reputation now. "... also struggling with his feelings for his daughter. And her friends. Anyway, Dr. Bennett had seen Rothko with Frank Faulkner shortly before he died, and she'd made notes about the encounter in Frank's file."

"Why did that seem worth noting?"

"Well, Frank had told her he was working on something big. He was very agitated. And her house call to Frank's home interrupted a business meeting with Rothko-just before Frank was killed. Once Bennett saw him in your office, it didn't take her long to put it all together. Unfortunately, Rothko recognized her, too, and once again, he saw his elaborate plan falling apart. So he rounded up Aravena-who had no choice but to comply, given all that Rothko knew he had done-and grabbed her. The opportune arrival of a neighbor prevented him from killing Bennett on the spot and making it look like suicide, as he'd done with the others. But he surely would've killed her. If we hadn't intervened."

Ben paused, letting all that Mike had said sink in. "Major Morelli, at this time, do you or anyone else at the Tulsa PD have any reason to believe Ray Goldman was involved in the murder of the Faulkner family?"

"No. To the contrary, I'm quite certain he was not. I've not only investigated this in detail-I've also spoken to Mr. Rothko himself. He's been given partial immunity as to the Faulkner family deaths-even if they were instigated by Rothko, they were actually committed by Mr. Aravena, who is now deceased. That still leaves three murders and two attempteds to charge him with." Mike turned to look at Judge Derek. "But Raymond Goldman had nothing to do with any of the murders."

"You're sure of that?"

"I am. The whole department is sure. There really is no doubt. We made a mistake once. But now we want to set things right."

"Thank you, Major Morelli." Ben closed his notebook. "Thank you very much."

The courtroom was deathly quiet. Ben had concluded the presentation of his evidence. Weintraub had been all but invisible; he made no real objection to anything Ben said or did. Judge Derek had been silent throughout. Not an unnecessary word had been spoken. And now, minutes passed while the handsome judge sat at his bench, not moving, not speaking.

"What's he doing?" Ray muttered, under his breath.

"I don't know," Ben muttered back. "I wish I did."

"He's going to turn us down, isn't he? Just like the other times. He'll find some excuse."

"We don't know that," Ben said, but in truth, he was thinking the same thing. Had he made a hideous mistake, taking the lead at the hearing? Knowing how intensely Derek hated him, had he sacrificed Ray's chances to his own bravado? "We'll just have to wait. And see."

Mercifully, the interregnum eventually came to an end. "Well," Derek said, massaging the bridge of his nose, "this presents a bit of a dilemma, doesn't it?"

Ben felt Christina's hand dart out for his under the table.

"Your client has exhausted all his appeals. You're aware of that, aren't you, Mr. Kincaid?"

Ben rose to his feet. "Yes, your honor. I am." He was tempted to start arguing. But something told him not to. The man already knows everything you're tempted to tell him. Just keep your mouth shut. See where he's going.

"But as you're also well aware, this court sits both in law and in equity. When newly discovered evidence is brought to light, the court always has the option, in equity, to reopen a case. Most of the newly discovered evidence this court has seen in the past-including in this case-was ridiculously weak and unconvincing." He paused. "But what I've heard today in this courtroom is something else again."

Ben felt Christina's hand squeezing his. Come on, Derek... come on...

"It seems apparent to this court that a grave injustice was done seven years ago-an injustice for which Raymond Goldman has paid the price. An impossibly high price. The court cannot return those years to you, sir. All we can do is earnestly offer our condolences, and our apologies. And of course, grant your writ for relief."

Ray slowly rose. His knees were shaking. "Y-you mean-you mean I get a new trial?"

Derek shook his head. "I mean you're free to go." He rapped his gavel. "Marshals, remove those shackles. The writ for habeas corpus relief is granted. Case dismissed."

The courtroom exploded. Ben and Christina threw themselves around Ray, around each other. Flashbulbs ignited the room. "I can't believe it," Ray kept saying. "After all this time. I can't believe it." Everyone in the gallery rushed to the front. Pandemonium ruled.

Derek stood at the head of the courtroom, banging his gavel furiously. "We may be out of session, but this is still a court of law and you will behave accordingly!"

He glared at them all for a moment, and then, abruptly, his expression softened. "Take it outside."

"Yes, your honor," Ben said, hurriedly gathering his papers.

"Oh, and one other thing," the judge added.

Ben stiffened. "Yes?"

"Nice job, Mr. Kincaid."

An hour later, back at the office, a massive celebration ensued. Somehow, in the space of an hour, Christina managed to get the whole lobby area festooned with streamers and ribbons. Champagne flowed. The outer doors were locked; the office was closed for business. Everyone wore silly hats and giggled giddily-Ben and Christina and Jones and his wife, Paula, and even Loving. And at the center of it all was Ray Goldman-looking better than Ben had seen him in seven years. He was wearing street clothes-for the first time in seven years-and even if he hadn't had a chance yet for perfect grooming, the watery glow in his eyes and the amazed smile on his face more than made up for it.

"I still can't believe it," Ray said, a happily befuddled expression on his face.

"Believe it," Ben said. "You're a free man."

"A toast," Christina said, raising her glass. "To Ray Goldman, who the whole world now knows is innocent-as we knew all along."

"Amen!" everyone shouted.

"And let's have a moment for Erin Faulkner, one of the bravest, strongest women I've ever had the pleasure to know. Despite all her troubles, she tried to do the right thing. And in the end-she did."

"Bravo," Ben said quietly.

"And," she went on, glass still raised, "a toast to that great and powerful legal warrior, Ben Kincaid!"

"Hear, hear!" the others concurred.

"Champion of truth, justice, and the American way. Defender of the poor and oppressed. Slayer of the great and toupeed beast Derek."

Ben cleared his throat. "I think you should be sharing in this toast, co-counsel."

She beamed. "If you insist."

"I can't get over how well this case turned out," Loving announced. His huge frame was bobbling-too much bubbly, Ben suspected. "Ben finally won a case in front of Derek. Ray finally wins his get-out-of-jail-free card. And I learned to appreciate sushi."

The rest of the room stared at him.

"Well, I did. It's weird, but I really like that squishy stuff. I've been back to that joint three times."

Jones whispered into Christina's ear. "Soon we'll be hearing about the squid conspiracy to take over the world."

"What happened to Mike?" Ben inquired. "He should be sharing in the accolades."

"Blackwell called," Jones explained. "Yanked him back to headquarters."

"Is he in trouble?"

Jones shrugged his shoulders. "Why else would Blackwell call?"

"First of all," Chief Blackwell said, "I want to extend my congratulations to the two of you on your outstanding detective work."

Mike, sitting in a chair opposite the man's desk, stared at him. You do? Was the old man mellowing, or was he in an extended fantasy fugue state? When Mike caught the Kindergarten Killer, Blackwell barely nodded. When he nailed Detective Sergeant McNaughton's murderer, Blackwell hardly grunted. But now he's getting effusive congratulations?

"I know this case hasn't been easy for either of you. But you stuck with it, and you brought it to a successful conclusion. I'm putting strong commendations into both of your files."

Baxter, sitting in the chair beside Mike, nodded. "That's much appreciated, sir," she said. "But that's not why you called us here, is it?"

Blackwell seemed disconcerted. "No. It isn't."

Mike jumped in. "Chief, if it's about that report I filed on Sergeant Baxter, I withdraw everything I-"

Blackwell waved him away. "No, no. I just-well, I need to know what you two want to do."

Baxter's head tilted. "How do you mean?"

"Look, let's talk turkey. I forced the two of you to work together. Neither of you wanted it. But I thought it was important. I wanted Baxter to get a fair shake-something she didn't get in Oklahoma City, I'm sorry to say. And I thought the best way to accomplish that was to pair her with the best and most open-minded man in homicide."

Mike's eyes widened. Was that a compliment? This was a red-letter day.

"But I know it's been a tempestuous relationship from the start."

Baxter squirmed. "It hasn't been... that bad..."

"You're trying to put a good face on it. And I appreciate that. But I know what's what. I've got eyes and ears. All over the place. I know you two have been at war from the start. I hate to think what was going on in the car when that Knight woman was killed."

Mike and Baxter exchanged a look.

"So the bottom line is this-if you want to be reassigned, I'll go along with it. I think this case has given Baxter the cred she needed. There's no need to Super Glue the two of you together forever, if you don't want it. Mind you, I think you make a pretty good team."

Mike nodded. "Do you really?"

"And I think you could learn to work together. But I won't force the issue. If you want to be assigned to new partners, I'll do it."

Baxter's head slowly turned. Mike's did the same. But they seemed to be avoiding each other's eyes.

"So tell me what you want. Will you keep on working together? Or shall I reassign you?"

Slowly, gradually, Mike and Baxter found each other's eyes. But neither spoke.

"Okay," Blackwell said, drumming his fingers on his desk, "do we have a verdict?"

Mike and Baxter continued staring. Silently.

"Well," Blackwell said, his impatience obviously growing.
"What's it going to be?"

The party was winding down. The last bottle had been uncorked, but no one was drinking anymore. Jones and Loving had both fallen asleep on the sofa. Christina was at Jones's workstation, banging away at his computer keyboard.

"What are you up to?" Ben asked, peering over her shoulder.

"Deleting everything on Jones's hard drive," she answered nonchalantly.

Ben's eyes ballooned. "What! Are you nuts? He'll-"

"Relax. I backed it all up on Zip disks." She smiled. "But he won't know that."

"Christina, have you lost your mind? When Jones sees what you've done, he'll freak! We're talking office-manager meltdown!"

"Yes," she agreed, as she pushed Delete for the final time. "That'll teach him to send me out to interview Spider-Man."

Ben poured himself another drink and pulled up a chair beside Ray. Christina had fallen into a chair, and her eyelids were drooping. What an incredible woman she is, Ben thought, not for the first time. How lucky they were to have her. How lucky he was-

Or could be?

"I still can't believe it," Ray said. He had probably drunk too much champagne, but after seven years without, Ben thought he was entitled. "It doesn't seem real."

"It will," Ben assured him. "The first night you sleep in your own bed."

"My own bed? I don't have a bed. I haven't had an apartment for years."