Chasing Suspect Three (16 page)

“I know all the local drug baddies,” Jaworski
said. “This guy isn’t local. He doesn’t even dress like a local. He
has Miami drug gang written all over him.”

After a moment of thought, she said, “Okay,
first we have the FBI up here checking into John Larena carrying
drugs and money back and forth instead of diplomatic papers. Now a
Miami hood is up here searching the condo for missing money.”

“I wasn’t aware of any FBI up here on my
murder case,” the detective said.

“I met the agent yesterday. Shapiro will be
clueing you in I’m sure. Anyway, now I’m thinking John took off
with the cartel’s money and got himself blown away as a result. If
that isn’t Larena’s murderer lying there before you, then maybe
some other Miami goon shot him. You can take that back to your
boss.”

“Shapiro is aware that you and I are kind of
buddies, but just the same we never discussed all this, okay?”

“Of course not, just get the point across to
Shapiro somehow. This is the guy who shot at me in the condo I’m
certain of that. There couldn’t be two men who look so repulsive.”
She leaned closer over the body. “Look at that white powder on his
shirt.”

“That’s not cocaine, if that’s what you’re
thinking.”

“I’m thinking ceiling plaster.”

S
andy followed
Jaworski to the police station. He took her statement, and she
helped him with some details of the necessary reports concerning
the attempt on her life and the fatal shooting of the condo
intruder. The routine traffic stop that resulted in the exchange of
gunfire was outside the Park Beach city limits, but the sheriff’s
department phoned and reported that a fingerprint search on the
offender was negative, and the Buick had been stolen in Dade
County.

Chip had heard the reports on his radio and
rushed to the station to be certain she was unharmed. They talked
for a half hour before she headed back to her studio apartment to
shower and change clothes.

She hadn’t intended to crash, but a minute
after taking a loving look at her twin-sized bed, she had the
covers up around her neck and was out. An ugly man in a beautiful
jacket haunted her dreams, and she woke up an hour later. She got
up, took a sedative left over from last year’s trip to the dentist,
and slept through until morning the next day. She wasn’t in the
office facing Martin until noon.

They needed to talk and pull together what
they had learned so far. He insisted she recount yesterday’s
escapade before discussing anything else.

She described the scenario ending with her
standing in wet clothes next to Detective Jaworski looking down at
a dead body in the
street
. Martin sat
silent, slowly shaking his head, and shuddering at each part. He
put his head in his hands at the part where she flew off a second
floor balcony with bullets flying over her head.

“I was lucky. It could have been the fourth
floor.”

“Yes, yesterday certainly was your lucky
day,” he said with a grim smile.”

She went on to explain the FBI’s interest in
John Larena as a possible drug courier. She didn’t bring up Agent
Heppard’s personal interest in her. She also skipped mentioning his
good looks, the dinner together, and the clench in his car. She did
mention lunching with him, however.

“So, he gets to interview pretty women over
lunch. I knew I should have gone into government work. They have
such great benefits.” All of this action truthfully wasn’t his
thing. But he did regret being totally out of the excitement.
Perhaps he should get more involved. “So, at any particular time,
John Larena would be carrying either money or drugs. The money goes
out and the drugs come in.”

“Exactly. He must have taken off with the
money. Jaworski thinks the dead guy’s a hood from Miami looking for
the money in Johns’ condo.”

Thinking aloud he said, “So, someone from big
bad Miami comes up here to little old Park Beach and rips up an
apartment. Obviously, they haven’t found the money yet, because
they’re still looking for it. So, where’s the money now?”

“So, where’s the money now?” she repeated.
“Until that money is found and turned in, Miami thugs are going to
be up here killing people looking for it.”

“I don’t see why the FBI investigating John
Larena for being a courier is to our advantage,” he said. “The
prosecution will suggest to the jury Margo was also involved in
drugs, How do you keep her out of it? I suppose you could claim she
was suspicious of his activities, and that’s why she separated and
wanted a divorce.”

“I don’t think Shapiro will take that angle.
One, I’d make him prove she was connected to the drug trade. Two,
I’d make him prove what that connection had to do with her murder
charge. He can’t prove all that stuff. He’ll stick with domestic
violence, and the story that she shot him because that’s what angry
wives do. Jurors can relate to that. Nevertheless, I can overcome
that argument, because now I can talk about Miami bad guys running
around.”

“And it’s perfect for reasonable doubt.”

“So I think we’re okay. You know, when I
first saw the guy in the condo pointing the gun at me, I was
thinking it might be Richie. My feeling was who else would be in
the apartment? Geez Louise, I didn’t want it to be Margo’s
boyfriend who was looking for money in her husband’s condo. That
would look like she killed John to get the money.” A slight chill
went up her spine. “The dead guy couldn’t be Richie...could
he?”

He said, “Well, if it was Richie in the
condo, he’s dead now. We can assume he won’t be dropping by our
office today. Sorry, I was no help in tracing him.”

“Not to worry. I told Shapiro about him. If
he’s alive maybe they can find him. If dead I hope they can
identify him.”

“Richie is to show up in this office today
before five. I gave Margo an ultimatum.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll give her another ultimatum. I
don’t know, Martin. What do I do if he doesn’t show? I don’t want
to drop her. I want to win this case.” She took out her phone. “I’m
putting in a call for Margo at the jail. Let’s see what she has to
say.” She talked for a moment and then covered the phone. “They’re
calling her to the phone.”

After a few minutes, Sandy said, “How you
doing?—Yes, I know you want out of jail.”

“How’s Richie?—Fine as far as you know.”

“When did you last speak with him?—This
morning, good.”

“You told him to come here today, right?”

She threw up her hands. “But you
promised!”

“What is he, an illegal?”

She listened for a few more minutes.

“Okay, I’ll phone you when I know more.” She
hung up. “It wasn’t Richie who was shot. She spoke with him this
morning.”

“Did she admit he was illegal?”

“In so many words, and he won’t come in here
to talk without her by his side. She said just get her out, she and
Richie will straighten out everything for us. I think I’ll take a
shot at getting her bonded out today. Now seems the right time to
go for it.”

“It’s all quite favorable,” he said. “You can
argue this isn’t a simple spousal dispute after all. We now have
our reasonable doubt. You can argue someone in Miami most likely
had more to do with his death than Margo.”

“Nevertheless, we don’t know what evidence
the prosecution is sitting on. At this point, Margo is their prime
suspect and Shapiro no doubt feels there’s too much incriminating
evidence to just give her a pass. I’m going over and talk to him
about reducing the charge. At present, they’re claiming it was John
who fired at her at the Community Center and made her so angry she
went to his place and shot him. My argument is they don’t have the
.45 caliber murder weapon. They can’t connect my client to any gun
of any size. And they have to convince a jury she would lug around
a small cannon. Even if she did go to his place, there’s no proof
she was carrying a gun along.”

“If she went to his place without a weapon,
how could it be premeditated murder?” he added.

“And without premeditation the state can’t go
for first degree,” she said with a smile. “You know, I’m going to
see Shapiro right now. If I can’t get him to change his mind, then
I’m going to appeal to the court for a reduction of the
charge.”

“Good luck.”

“Whether I’m successful with Shapiro today or
not, we need to dig in and find exculpatory evidence and arguments
for a solid defense. For one thing, the police report on the condo
murder sounds vague regarding just when the witnesses heard the
shots. Will you go over there and interview all the neighbors? Who
heard the shots, and when. Who over there reported seeing Margo
leave in her car and what time?”

“I’m on it.”

S
andy came out of
the courthouse elevator feeling like skipping instead of walking
across the lobby. Her meeting with Shapiro had exceeded her
expectations. She had given Shapiro a headache. She argued her
client was a first time criminal offender, there was no
premeditation, plus the FBI talk about a drug gang provided
reasonable doubt. They both knew it would sound great in front of a
judge. She had Shapiro in her fist.

When he started to go back over his primary
arguments for Margo’s arrest, she interrupted him. She wanted the
charge reduced to manslaughter. He admitted the court might agree
with some of her arguments. After additional discussion, he offered
to reduce the charge against her client to second-degree.

Geez, he agreed, not bad. A reduction from
first degree all the way down to manslaughter wasn’t going to
happen anyway. Just a ploy, to ask for more than she expected to
get. Second degree murder gave her a meaningful victory. Easier to
defend, and would take the death penalty off the table.

In spite of all that, she pressed her luck.
With arms folded across her chest, she shook her head.
“Manslaughter.”

“Sober up.”

“Manslaughter,” she said it again.

Shapiro had his face all screwed up. “Either
you’re bluffing or you’re daffy. Which is it, Sandy?”

“Okay, so I’m bluffing. I’ll take
second-degree on one condition.”

“You want bond.”

“I want bond. Personal Recognizance.”

“No way! Two hundred thousand.”

“Fifty. She’s local, no priors.”

After a long pause. “Okay. Free on fifty.”
Shapiro agreed without further argument. They talked for another
few minutes about how she should proceed with the bonding out
procedure.

She kept a straight face and held off
throwing her fists in the air coming down in the crowded
elevator.

As she entered the lobby, she was surprised
to see Chip near the entrance talking with a sheriff’s deputy. He
noticed her at the same time. She hadn‘t seen him in three days and
he looked insanely delicious even wearing his favorite sport coat
that could use a pressing. Standing straight and tall came
naturally to the ex-Marine officer.

He shot her one of his light-up-the-room
smiles, and her knees went soft. She felt a reckless urge to rush
over and throw her arms around his neck. He’d better cancel any
plans he had for tonight, because a lengthy repertoire of lustful
thoughts was racing through her mind.

She realized keeping her distance from him
for the last few days had been foolish. As soon as she stopped
turning into mush, she hurried over to him.

He said, “Haven’t seen you smiling like that
since you took delivery on your new Miata. I know it’s not because
you saw me.”

She gave him a mild in-public kiss on the
lips. “I came from seeing Mel Shapiro. I just talked my client out
of jail.” She couldn’t hold back the broad grin. “No applause
please.”

“The victim’s wife? You’re joking.”

“Long story. The victim was involved in
international drug running, we think the guy who shot at me—.”

“Yeah, I heard about that part.”

“We think he was from a Salvadoran drug mob
and—.”

“What did you say to Mel?”

“You keep interrupting. I told him I wanted a
new hearing in court...that I was going for a reduction to
manslaughter. There’s a lot of reasonable doubt, she’s a first-time
offender—.”

“Oh, for chrissake, Sandy—.”

She took a step back. “Will you shut up and
let me finish?”

“Manslaughter, come on. She popped her
husband. They caught her at the scene. I know you want to win your
first case, but manslaughter is the same as a walk. I can’t believe
you’d let that happen.”

“You didn’t let me finish. Demanding
manslaughter was merely a tactic. I knew Shapiro wouldn’t go for
it. I wanted second degree, and my client freed on bond. And that’s
what I got.” She wasn’t connecting with him as she had hoped. “I
don’t appreciate you raining on my parade like you’re doing.” Her
hands were now down on her hips. “Can’t you tell I’m floating three
feet off this floor? My little victory is important to me. How can
you bring me down like this? You should be happy for me now and
save your lecture for later.”

He said he was sorry and he looked it.

“I can’t believe you’d even touch a woman
like that.”

“What? Are you still hung up on Claudia? Who
said I touched her?” He glanced around. They were drawing some
attention.

“You can go to hell.” She hurried out of the
courthouse.

She had settled down by the time she got back
to the office—at least on the outside. She was eager to tell Martin
the news. He’d be thrilled. However, the office was locked. She
went in and sat at her desk. He should be back shortly. She started
rehearsing in her mind how she’d tell him the good news. She
couldn’t wait, she phoned him. “Oh, I forgot, you’re over at the
Coral Palms interviewing witnesses. You know I went to see Shapiro
about reducing the charge. I threatened to go to court for a
hearing to reduce the charge to manslaughter. Do you believe I said
that? Manslaughter. Oh, I’m sorry...can you talk?”