Motion to Dismiss (36 page)

"Jesus, Grady. You couldn't have dug a deeper hole for yourself if you'd tunneled clear through to China."

"You think I don't know that? You think I haven't sat here beating myself up for being stupid and shortsighted?"

"And selfish," I said without thinking.

"And selfish."

"Not to mention morally repugnant."

Grady leaned across the table and touched my hand. "I'd give anything to be able to rewrite these last couple of weeks. I know I've behaved badly. And I love Nina with all my heart. I can't bear to think of the pain I've caused her. But I can't go back and change what's done. The only thing I can do is go forward and try to make it right."

I pressed my fingers against the side of my face. "What a mess."

"I didn't kill Deirdre Nichols. That's what you need to deal with first and foremost."

For the first time since the morning I'd talked with Grady about the rape, I found myself truly believing him. But would I be able to convince anyone in a court of law?

As I left the courthouse, I mulled over the prosecution's case against Grady. The evidence was strong enough to hold him for trial. About that there was no doubt in my mind. Our only real chance was to point the finger at someone else, and have it stick.

I headed toward police headquarters on Washington Street to pay another visit to Cedric Gibson. He was shuffling through the clutter of papers on his desk when I knocked on the open door of his office.

"Ms. O'Brien," he said, rocking back in his chair. "What can I do for you this time?"

"I know about your investigation of Tony Rodale," I told him without beating around the bush. "And I know that Deirdre Nichols was working with you as an informant."

Gibson neither confirmed nor denied it, but pressed his fingers together and regarded me silently.

I took a seat across from him. "I don't want to blow your operation. But Grady Barrett is charged with murder. He's facing trial for a crime he didn't commit."

Gibson brought his fingertips to his chin, making an indentation in the flesh. "The evidence is there."

I nodded, trying to avoid a confrontation. "At first blush it does appear as though Grady might have been involved. But all of the evidence is subject to another interpretation as well, and that's something the police never took the time to explore. They wanted a quick arrest, and they snagged Grady."

"We 'snagged,' to use your term, the man we believe committed the crime."

"The other suspects never got a second glance from your detectives."

"And that's what you think Rodale is, a possible suspect?"

"He wears a size ten shoe. He's someone Deirdre would have opened the door to late at night. He has a history of domestic abuse. If he'd got wind of the fact that she was cooperating with the police, he might well have killed her." I sat back. "There's also the fact that she was planning to break up with him. Maybe she told him it was over, and that's what made him snap."

Gibson raised his hands and gave me the time-out sign. "Can we talk unofficially for a moment?"

"We can start there."

"Tony Rodale was arrested this morning."

"On drug charges?"

He nodded. "You can make whatever you want of 'alternate scenarios,' but I can tell you that Rodale did not kill Deirdre Nichols."

"What makes you so sure?"

"One of our detectives has been working undercover. He was with Rodale the night of the murder."

I felt my heart sink. "Steve Henshaw?"

"Does it make a difference who it was?"

I flopped back in my chair. Disappointment flooded through me. Being in the company of a cop was a pretty good alibi. In fact, they didn't come much better.

"Maybe it was one of Rodale's henchmen," I said.

"I don't think so. We've had our eye on most of his associates. In any event, you'll have a hard time making the case in court."

"Deirdre Nichols was an informant. That alone ought to raise reasonable doubt about Grady's guilt in the mind of at least one juror." I was less certain that it would be enough to negate probable cause at the hearing.

Gibson stroked his cheek. "And once you make that preposterous assertion, how are you going to back it up? Don't think someone from this department is going to march into court and do it for you."

"You'd lie on the stand?"

"We'd try like the devil to avoid getting to that point." He looked me in the eye and his manner softened. "I'm not trying to one-up you, Ms. O'Brien. There is simply nothing to support the notion that Deirdre Nichols was killed because of a drug operation. It's a catchy Hollywood gimmick, but in this case it simply doesn't hold up under scrutiny."

It had to, I thought glumly. It was Grady's only chance.

"If it's any consolation," Gibson continued, "we've got a lead on two guys we suspect of killing your friend Hal Fisher. That's one homicide we just may be able to tie to Rodale."

"Because Hal found out about his drug connection?"

"Looks that way."

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of Hal's death on my shoulders. I was glad they'd found his killers, but it was small consolation for loss of a life. Especially since I couldn't help thinking I'd set the whole thing in motion by asking him to work on the case. And it was all for naught. Grady was going to stand trial, and perhaps be convicted.

"I can't do anything with speculation," Gibson said. "But if you have anything concrete to bring me, I'll be happy to listen." He rose and ushered me to the door. "I don't like to see killers get away with murder."

"Or to see innocent men convicted?" I asked pointedly.

He offered a brief smile. "That too."

I returned to the office feeling discouraged. Without Tony Rodale to put forward as an alternate suspect, our options were limited. We were stuck with Grady's original story and little to offer by way of countering the evidence against him.

I stopped at Rose's desk to pick up my messages. "Any word from Marc?" I asked.

"Not a peep. Now
I'm
beginning to get worried."

"Did you try to call him?"

"Once this morning and twice this afternoon."

"I'll stop by his house after work. Maybe he's just not answering the phone."

"Yeah, I guess." I could tell that Rose didn't buy into that fiction any more than I did. But neither of us wanted to contemplate the other possibilities.

She handed me my message slips. "That boy Xavier called again," she said. "I told him to try you at four."

I looked at the clock. It was now a quarter to.

"I'm glad you made it back," Rose said. "I get the feeling he's not long on patience."

"I need to talk to him no matter what is going on. If I'm on the phone with someone else when he calls, get me anyway."

I opened the door to my own office, set my briefcase on the floor, and kicked off my shoes. Flopping into the chair at my desk, I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to ignore the worry that gnawed at me.

Hal had been making inquiries about Tony Rodale. Hal was now dead. He'd told me he'd seen Marc with Tony. Marc was missing. What did it mean?

My thoughts were broken by the jangle of the phone. I glanced at the clock. Three fifty-eight.

"Hello," I said into the receiver.

"You the lady wants to talk to me?"

"Xavier?"

"Yeah, is me."

"I appreciate your calling back."

"Is nothin. 'Sides, wanna see my picture on the front page."

"Your picture?"

"Yeah, see my name in print too. You's with some newspaper or somethin' the man says."

"I'm a lawyer," I explained, then hastened to add, "But I know someone with the newspaper."

"He gonna make me look good? I don't want none of those pictures what makes me look like ugly dog."

"Let's talk first. I'll put you in touch with the journalist, but I can't make any promises." I wasn't sure whether Byron Spencer would even talk to Xavier.

"They tell me you asking 'bout the flying angel."

"The flying angel?" I could tell this wasn't going to be easy.

"Yeah, that's what the man say."

"A couple of weeks ago a woman fell from the deck of a house above the canyon where you and some friends were partying. I understand you saw it happen."

"Yeah, was wild. All white and fluttery, like an angel. Not every day you see something like that."

"Did you see anyone else on the deck with her?"

"The force of evil, that's what was there. And her all in white."

"This evil ... force, can you describe it? Big frame or slender? Tall or short?"

"Didn't have no frame, lady. Was a force. A spirit."

I worked to keep my irritation from showing. "So you didn't actually
see
anyone with her?"

"I told you, evil. Red eye glowing like a burning ember."

"Its eye?"

"Like an ember."

"You saw a spark of red, like an ember?" My mind was churning, trying to give substance to his words.

"Not a spark. It was there, lurking."

"Did you see the ... the flying angel before she fell?"

"All in white."

"What about after she fell, did you see anyone on the deck then?"

"Evil, triumphant, slinking off into darkness."

I pressed my hand against my forehead, seeing my last line of defense slinking off into the darkness as well. "Xavier, is there a number where I can reach you? I might think of something else I need to ask."

"I'm here, I'm there. A number'd be no good."

"What if I need to talk to you again? Or my friend at the newspaper?"

"He gonna take my picture?"

"If that's what you want."

He seemed to think about it a minute. "I got your number. I'll be in touch."

I spent what was left of the afternoon preparing for tomorrow's day in court. I reviewed my notes, the police report, and other materials, seeing and feeling the events from a fresh perspective now that I knew Grady had been there. I was trying hard to imagine things as they might really have happened.

At six I packed up my briefcase and headed over to Nina's to welcome her home from the hospital. On the way, I stopped by Marc's. The house was dark, and his car was nowhere in sight. I rang the bell anyway, then pounded on the door. Nothing.

Anger had long since given way to worry, but the worry was now clouded by a new sort of uneasiness. Had Marc been honest with me about the circumstances of his beating? Tony, former kingpin of the drug world, was now in jail. If Hal had really seen Marc with Tony, what kind of trouble might Marc be in? By the time I reached Nina's, my head was spinning. But answers were in short supply.

Simon opened the door for me and Emily escorted me upstairs. "Mommy and I were playing go fish," she chirped. "Simon hates to play go fish."

"You must be happy to have your mom back home."

She nodded. "I wish my daddy was here too."

"I know you do, honey."

Emily pushed open the bedroom door.

"Hi," I said to Nina as Emily pulled me into the room.

Nina smiled. "I was hoping you'd come by." She looked pale and tired, but she made a valiant effort to sound upbeat.

I pulled an emerald velvet armchair closer to the bed and sat.

"God, I'm happy to be back home," she said. "Hospitals have got to be among the most depressing places on earth."

Next to prisons, I thought. "They serve a purpose though."

She nodded without conviction, then turned to Emily. "Why don't you go see if your dinner is ready, sweetie, while I talk to Kali. We'll keep the cards right where they are and finish the game after you eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Kali and I need some grown-up time."

With great reluctance Emily left us, but not before giving her mother a smothering hug.

"How did it go at court today?" Nina asked when we were alone. "Did Adrianna say anything new?"

"She was a good witness," I began. "She seemed certain the car she saw was a convertible and that it was silver." I paused. "She also knew that it was a Mercedes."

"A Mer -- " Nina lowered her head to her hand and closed her eyes. "Was it Grady's?" she whispered, then, without waiting, answered her own question. "Yes, of course. So he
was
there that night."

I couldn't tell her what Grady had told me in confidence, but I wanted to reassure her somehow. "He had nothing to do with Deirdre's death," I said. "I firmly believe that."

"But he
was
there that night, wasn't he?"

"He swears that he never saw her or spoke to her. That's all I can tell you. Grady will have to give you a fuller explanation."

"Dear God. It just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn't it?"

"He didn't kill her, Nina. We may not prevail at the hearing, but we'll beat the charges at trial."

"You hope. We both know that juries are unpredictable."

"We'll present a strong defense."

Nina drew in a breath. "You really think there's no chance it's going to be dismissed before trial?"

I hesitated. "The other day you asked me to skip the sugar coating. Is that the way you want it still?"

Her shoulders slumped. "It will be months, won't it? Maybe years."

"Six months at least," I said. My throat felt raw. "I'm sorry, Nina. I tried, but the prosecution's case is solid."

"The baby will be crawling by the time the case gets to trial. Maybe even walking. I'll be finished with chemo." She closed her eyes. "Assuming I'm still alive."

I reached for her hand.

"I can't face it alone, Kali. There must be
something
you can do. You can still put on a defense."

"I'd like to be able to do that, believe me. But I need something to work with."

"The state's case can't be airtight," Nina said.

"It isn't. And there are things that don't feel right to me -- "

She leaned forward. "Like what?"

"I can't put my finger on them." It was like searching for a word that remained just outside your memory.

"What you need is a witness who saw someone else there that night."

"That's not going to happen. I've canvassed the neighborhood. So did Hal. And I finally spoke with the kid who claimed to have seen Deirdre fall. He's useless."