Smash Cut (24 page)

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Authors: Sandra Brown

Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia

BOOK: Smash Cut
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J
ULIE’S SCREAM ECHOED IN THE HALLWAY.
He took one step toward her, then placed his hands on either side of the doorjamb, bracing himself in the opening. His skin looked waxen, inhuman. His eyes were sunk deep into their dark sockets.
Julie turned and ran, but he lurched after her, caught her shoulder, spun her around, and fell against her, impaling himself on the knife. It sank into him up to the hilt. He opened his mouth to cry out, but what spewed from his maw was a sickening bile that splattered Julie’s chest.
She screamed in horror.
She tried to push him off her, but he clung tenaciously, his arms draped over her shoulders. They did an odd dance while she struggled to get him away from her. He hung on.
Then he began to convulse. No longer able to maintain his hold, he dropped to the floor, landing on his back and shaking so violently that his shoulder bones and heels hammered noisily against her hardwood floor.
Julie leaped over him and staggered into her bedroom. She grabbed the cordless phone off her nightstand and frantically punched in 911. Nothing happened. She dropped the phone. It clat tered to the floor. Her cell phone was in her handbag in the kitchen. She stumbled back into the hall.
The man’s convulsions weren’t as severe now. She tried not to look at the hilt of the knife sticking out of him as she knelt down beside him. “I’ll call for help. But I’ve got to go get my phone. I’ll be right back. Try to…”
His eyes were open, but they stared at the ceiling without acknowledging her. He seemed not to have heard her or to be aware of her presence. He seemed already to be in another place. He twitched.
Then he went completely still.
Derek and Dodge crossed the boulevard and had just reached the parking lot of the barbecue restaurant when Derek saw Kimball and Sanford blast out of Billy Duke’s abandoned motel room like a demon was after them.
Running full-out, they headed toward the motel office. Sanford got in on the driver’s side of their sedan and slapped a portable light onto the roof while Kimball stuck her head into the door of the office. She shouted something to Dora and her partner, who were questioning the Korean woman. Then Kimball joined Sanford in the car. He revved the engine, and they peeled out fast enough to make the air stink of smoking rubber.
Derek looked at Dodge, then, without saying a word to each other, they dashed for Derek’s car. He scrambled behind the wheel while Dodge clambered into the passenger seat. He hadn’t even got his door closed when Derek punched the accelerator hard.
“What do you think?” he asked as he wove through traffic, matching Sanford’s speed but without the benefit of a flashing cherry on the roof of his car.
“Don’t know, but it’s hot.”
“Billy Duke?”
“Maybe. Mind if I smoke?”
“What do you think?”
They rode in taut silence. After ten minutes, Dodge remarked, “They’re heading toward your neck of the woods.”
“More in the direction of Julie’s.” Derek grew queasy when he realized he was following the unmarked police car deep into her neighborhood. “Oh Jesus, no.”
“What?” Dodge asked.
Derek didn’t answer. As soon as he saw the emergency vehicles lighting up her block with flashing lights, he braked hard and shoved the gearshift into Park. Before Dodge’s shout of caution even reached him, he was running down the sidewalk, shoving aside neighbors who’d congregated in small groups to speculate on the nature of the emergency.
Ignoring the crime scene tape already encircling her lawn, he ducked beneath it and ran toward her front door. A uniformed cop stepped into his path. “Hey! Hold it.”
“What’s happened?”
“You live here?”
“No.”
“You family?”
“No.”
“Then beat it.”
“I’m Derek Mitchell, an officer of the court.
What happened

The cop frowned, glanced around, said, “Fatal stabbing.”
Derek’s knees went to jelly. “Who…” His throat seized up before he could complete the question, which seemed to strike a compassionate chord with the cop.
“Wait here.” He turned his back and started for the open door.
“Fuck that.” Derek lunged past him and cleared the front door, nearly colliding with another officer, who blocked his path and then put both hands on his chest. “Who let you in?”
“Get out of my way!” Derek tried to throw off the officer’s hands, but they didn’t budge. The first officer grabbed his arms from behind. “Lay off me!”
“Come on, pal, calm down or we’re gonna cuff you.”
“Let go of me!”
Homer Sanford appeared in the archway of Julie’s living room, wearing his most fearsome game face. “Mitchell? You again? What the hell?”
Wildly, Derek tried to read the detective’s expression. “Julie?” he croaked.
Sanford stared at him for several beats, then hitched his head toward the room behind him. Derek took a step, or tried. The cops were still holding him. “Let him go,” Sanford ordered. The uniformed men released him. He stumbled into the living room, pulling up short when he saw Julie, pale as death, but alive.
She was sitting on the sofa huddled inside a chenille throw, although the room felt like a greenhouse to Derek. Beneath the throw, her clothes were soiled. Blood and something else, vile-looking and smelly. Her complexion was the color of bread dough, making her eyes look dark and huge as they connected with his.
A tall, skinny black guy was standing near the fireplace with a small spiral notebook in his hand. He looked self-conscious. Another detective, a senior guy that Derek recognized—Graham? Grant? Something like that—was sitting on the ottoman Derek had sat on last night to get a closer view of the TV. He was facing Julie and Roberta Kimball where they sat side by side on the couch.
It was a strange tableau that held for several moments, then Graham/Grant said to Sanford, “Get him out of here.”
“I’m Derek Mitchell.”
“I know who you are. And
I
am Sergeant Graham, the detective conducting an investigation into a fatal stabbing. Now that we’ve got introductions out of the way, get the hell out of my crime scene.”
“I’m Ms. Rutledge’s attorney.”
Julie’s eyes widened marginally, but she didn’t dispute him. Kimball looked like somebody had goosed her from beneath the sofa cushion. He thought Sanford muttered something, but he couldn’t be sure.
Graham turned to Julie. “You’ve already called your lawyer?”
“I didn’t…didn’t call anyone but 911.”
“He must’ve followed us here,” Kimball explained. “He was at the motel where Billy Duke had been staying.” Grudgingly, she added, “He’s actually the one who ran him down. Rather, his PI did.”
“How come you were looking for him, Mr. Mitchell?” Graham asked.
But before Derek could reply, the detective’s gaze shifted to beyond his shoulder. Derek turned. A gurney with a body bag strapped to it was being rolled toward the front door by two EMTs under the guidance of an investigator from the Fulton County Medical Examiner’s Center. Recognizing Derek from numerous trials in which he’d testified, he nodded an acknowledgment but didn’t address him.
Instead, he said to Graham, “I’ll let you know when the autopsy is scheduled, Sergeant.”
“Can you tell me anything now?”
“He was dead when the paramedics arrived. Signs of struggle and trauma. He’s got what appears to be a common kitchen knife protruding from his gut.” He proceeded on his way without further comment.
Derek looked at Sanford. “Billy Duke?”
“We don’t have a positive ID yet.”
Graham came to his feet. “There’s a lot we don’t have. Ms. Rutledge, you’ll need to come to the station with us, answer some questions.”
“Now?”
“Right now.”
“May I clean up first?”
Graham considered it, then said, “Detective Kimball stays with you.” To the detective, he said, “Her clothes are evidence.”
As Kimball escorted Julie past Derek, he reached for her hand. She looked lost, overwhelmed. He curbed the impulse to put his arms around her. It was a struggle to keep a professional demeanor. “I’ll meet you there, Ms. Rutledge. Don’t say anything to anyone unless I’m with you. Understand?”
She nodded and whispered a thank-you.
He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. Trailing the throw, she moved toward the hallway. As Kimball passed him, she gave him an arch look and said under her breath, “Curiouser and curiouser.”
She was right about that.
An hour later, Julie recounted her story for Sergeant Graham and the young, black detective, who had yet to speak a word, at least in Julie’s hearing. She figured he had recently earned detective status and was still being mentored by Graham. Sanford and Kimball, she knew, were in the adjoining room, watching her through the two-way mirror.
Derek was beside her, the epitome of professionalism. He’d been at the police station when she arrived with Graham and his junior partner. They hadn’t exchanged a word on the drive from her house. She supposed the detective knew Derek by reputation, knew that he would raise hell if a client was urged to talk without his being present.
Now, the young detective made some adjustments to the video camera, then gave Graham a thumbs-up. Graham stated the date, time, and the names of those present and then politely asked her to tell them what had happened.
She did. She told them everything she could remember from the time she’d entered through her back door and noticed that the alarm didn’t chirp to that horrible moment when Billy Duke had shuddered one last time, then gone perfectly still.
When she finished, there was silence in the room for several moments, then Graham said, “Thank you, Ms. Rutledge.”
“My client wants to cooperate. Now, if that’s all—”
“It isn’t,” Graham said to Derek. Back to her: “I couldn’t help but notice that in your account you referred to the victim by name.”
“I’d been told his name was Billy Duke.”
“By whom?”
“By Detectives Sanford and Kimball.”
Derek said, “And he was an intruder, not a
victim.
”
“That’s debatable, Mr. Mitchell. Ms. Rutledge had a butcher knife. Billy Duke was unarmed. He’s the one in the morgue.”
“He was unarmed?” she asked.
“Not even a pocketknife,” the detective replied.
“I didn’t know,” she said weakly. “I assumed—”
“Did he threaten to harm you?”
“His presence alone was a threat to my client.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchell,” the detective said but kept his judgmental gaze on Julie. “When your alarm didn’t beep, why didn’t you leave the house? Why didn’t you call the police right away? You said you thought someone was in the house.”
“I said I ‘feared’ someone was in the house.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Fear can make you imagine things. I began to think I was being silly.” She glanced down at her entwined fingers, which she was gripping so tightly they had gone as white as bone. “I experienced a traumatizing event a few weeks ago.”
“I know you were with Paul Wheeler when he was shot.”
“Ever since then, I’ve been…not myself. I get frightened easily. I thought this was one of those times.”
“You thought you were imagining an intruder.”
“Yes.”
“But you kept the knife while you searched the house.”
“In case I was wrong.”
“In case you were wrong, you were prepared to mortally stab an intruder?”
“Don’t respond to that,” Derek said.
Graham left it alone. “When you first saw the man, did you recognize him?”
“He scared the living daylights out of me. I didn’t immediately think:
Billy Duke
. I’d never seen him in person, only in those security camera photographs. Honestly, all that registered with me was that he looked like a zombie. He was deathly pale. His skin looked artificial.”
She described him the best she could. “He came toward me, then sort of braced himself in the doorway. Like this.” She imitated how Billy Duke had stood, sagging forward in the open doorway. “He was sick. Injured. Something. He wasn’t well. Which I think explains why he fell against me. I don’t think he was attacking me. I could be wrong, of course, but I don’t think he was coming at me to hurt me. He was coming at me for help.”
“Help.”
“That’s what she said,” Derek said in a clipped tone. “The guy, who looked like the walking dead, lunged out of her bedroom toward her. Like any normal person would, she turned and ran. He spun her around, then threw himself onto her like he needed help standing. It’s on the video.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mitchell. I remember what she said.”
“Then why do you keep badgering her? What part isn’t clear to you?”
“I didn’t stab him,” Julie said. “He fell into the knife. Then he began to convulse.”
“I remember you saying that, too,” the detective said.
Julie met his skeptical gaze. “It’s the truth.”
“He vomited on you.”
“You saw my clothes.”
“He fell to the floor.”
She nodded.
“He jerked spasmodically. Then he twitched a few times and died.”
“That’s what happened.”
“Which could also happen if he got a knife in the gut.”
She said nothing.
“You told the 911 operator that an intruder inside your house was dead.”
“That’s right. I tried to call on the house phone, but the call didn’t go through. I was on my way to get my cell, but he died before I could.”
“How did you know he was dead? Did you touch him, check him for a pulse?”
“No. But I knew. His eyes…I knew. I retrieved my cell phone from the kitchen, where I’d left my handbag. I called 911, then went outside and remained on the front porch until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics examined him and told me he was dead. The first policemen arrived almost immediately. They stayed with me until you got there.”
“You know the rest,” Derek said. “Anything else you want to ask my client before we leave?”
Graham looked at the younger detective, who still hadn’t uttered a word. He shook his head. Graham glanced toward the two-way mirror. Seconds later, Sanford and Kimball walked in.
Julie looked at them in turn, but their expressions gave no hint as to why Graham had subtly invited them to join the group. Uneasily, Julie glanced at Derek. He didn’t seem to like their inclusion, either. He came to his feet. “Y’all are putting in an awfully long day.”
“So are you,” Kimball said. “You’re popping up all over the place tonight. You still haven’t explained why your hired help was looking for Billy Duke.”
Derek said, “Do you have a question for my client?”
“When did you switch sides, Mr. Mitchell?”
“Oh, you have a question for
me.”
“Don’t be a wiseass,” Kimball said cantankerously.
“Kinda strange,” Sanford said.
“What is?” Derek asked.
“First you’re representing the Wheelers. Then you’re not. Now you’re representing Ms. Rutledge.”
“Thank you for the history lesson.” He placed his hand beneath Julie’s elbow to signal her to stand and end this conversation.
But Kimball stepped forward. “Hold on.” Looking down at Julie, she said, “You’ve stated before, and again just now, that you’d never met Billy Duke, never even seen him in the flesh before he died in your house.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Have you ever been to the Pine View Motel?”
“Don’t answer,” Derek said.
“It’s all right,” Julie told him. “I’ve never heard of the Pine View Motel.”
“You’re sure?”
“Don’t answer.”
“Positive,” she replied, heedless of Derek’s advice.
“We found something in Billy Duke’s room that didn’t seem to belong in a scruffy place like that.” Kimball took a small plastic bag from the pocket of her blazer. Balancing it on her palm, she extended it toward Julie. “Have you lost a button?”
Julie felt the floor drop out from beneath her.
Inside the bag was a round pearl button with a small chrome eye on the underside of it, a button that belonged on an ivory-colored charmeuse blouse, a button Derek would also recognize.
He was standing close. She could feel the heat of guilt and embarrassment coming off him as palpably as it was radiating from her. Nobody said anything for several moments, then Sanford prodded her. “Ms. Rutledge?”
“I—”
“It’s a button, for godsake,” Derek said. “You can buy them by the dozens. It could belong to anybody.”
“Does it belong to you, Ms. Rutledge?”
Derek was undeterred. He took Julie by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “The man you’ve been searching for in connection with a brutal murder appeared in my client’s house this evening. She feared for her life. He attacked her and was accidentally stabbed. Tragically he died, whether of the wound or of some unknown cause, which won’t be revealed until the autopsy. You know how to reach me.”

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