Corrupted (2 page)

“I'm innocent, straight up. I was framed.”

“Okay, I believe you, and I need to get the facts.” Bennie rummaged through her messenger bag and found a pen.

“It was Richie. Richie Grusini. Remember him?”

“What?” Bennie froze. “What are you saying? Richie did it? He committed the murder?”

“No, Richie's dead. He got killed.”

“Richie was the
victim
?”

“Yeah, he's dead. I'm not cryin', believe me.”

“You didn't tell me it was Richie, when you called me.” Bennie tried to wrap her mind around it. She had thought Richie was a part of Jason's past—and hers.

“I know, I worried you wouldn't come.”

“I would have, anyway.” Bennie let the awkward moment pass. “Did the cops tell you they're going to charge you?”

“No, but that detective thinks I did it. Gallagher. He tried to get me to make a statement, but I told him I wanted to call you. I wouldn't sign the papers.”

Bennie knew he meant the papers required by Miranda to determine a waiver of counsel, ironic given Jason's history. “Let's get some background, so I'm up to speed. Jason, tell me where you live.”

“403 East Gansett Street. In Fishtown.”

“Okay.” Bennie should've known from the chicken wings. The homicide detectives thought the way to a confession was through a defendant's stomach. If he was from South Philly, they got cheesesteaks from Pat's or Geno's, and if he was from Olney, they got crab fries from Chicky & Pete's. The chicken wings would have come from Byrne's at Kensington and Lehigh.

“I live in a house with a roommate. It's a chick. Gail Malloy.”

Bennie made a note. “How long have you lived there?”

“Moved there six months ago, from home.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, I don't have a girlfriend.”

“How about a job?”

“I wait tables at Juarez, you know, the chain. It's in East Fishtown.”

“Good. Got any friends?”

“Just Gail, my roommate. She works at Juarez, too. She manages it. She's cool.”

“What's her cell number?”

“I wanted to call her but they only let me make one call.” Jason rattled off a number, and Bennie wrote it down.

“Have you been in any legal trouble, as an adult?”

“Only misdemeanors. I didn't serve any time.”

“Any weapons involved?'

“No.

Bennie made a note. “So tell me what happened tonight.”

“Okay.” Jason sniffed. “Anyway, after work, I wanted to eat, so I go into this bar, Eddie's, on Pimlico Street. I sit down and who do I see but Richie Grusini, sittin' at the bar. You know the story with me and Richie.”

“So what happened?”

“I had a few beers and I guess it just got to me, watching him laugh with his buddy, having a good time. He was flashin' all this cash, and this girl was coming over to them and she was hangin' all over him.” Jason shook his head, looking down. “Anyways, I thought to myself, where's the justice? Here he is, he got everythin', and he never paid for what he done to me, he
got away
with it, so I decided to do somethin' about it, not just suck it up.”

Bennie didn't like the way this was going.

“So I get up and say to him, hey, 'member me? Right away he shoves me, and we're in a fight and they throw us out.”

“Is that how you got the bump on your forehead?”

“No, that came later.”

“What time did this take place?”

“About 11:00? The game was still on.”

“How many people at the bar?”

“I dunno, about nine?”

Bennie made a note. “Including the bartender?”

“No.”

Bennie wrote
ten witnesses
, which was ten too many. “How many beers had you had?”

“Three.”

“Were you drunk?”

“No. So the bartender threw us out, and Richie's buddy left, and I was going to let it go, like we went opposite directions, I took a lef' to the bus but Richie and his buddy went to the right, and the bartender, he watched us split up. I waited at the bus stop, and I saw where Richie went, and the bartender went inside. But the bus didn't come, and I got madder and madder and I was like, why not, so I turned back and I went after Richie, like, down the street. He turned into an alley, and I figured he was gonna take a leak, and I went after him.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to have it out with him, I admit it.” Jason's pale skin flushed. “I wanted to tell him how he ruined my life. I went up to him in the alley and he was standin' at the middle, facin' the wall about to unzip his pants, and then all of a sudden, he hits me, really hard, right above my eye.” Jason gestured at his injury. “I fell back and my head hit the ground, and I
def
passed out. Then I don't know what happened, how long I was out. But when I woke up, Richie was lyin' there in the alley and blood was everywhere, like, coming from his throat, and there was this big, like, cut. That's prolly how I got the blood on me. He was all still, like, he wasn't moving.” Jason's good eye widened slightly. “I couldn't believe it, and I got up and in my hand was a hunting knife. I don't know where it came from, it wasn't mine I swear, but Richie was dead, then there were sirens and people were yelling and the police came and arrested me.”

Bennie couldn't tell if he was lying, but this wasn't the time to find out. “So you're saying somebody killed Richie and put the knife into your hand?”

“Yes, they framed me. Richie was a mean bastard, he musta had tons of enemies. Anybody coulda killed him.”

“But how would they know you and Richie were there? Did they follow you into the alley?”

“Prolly, yes. They set me up!”

Bennie hid her doubt. “Did you notice anyone following you into the alley?”

“No, but anybody coulda seen us. It's an alley but the front part is wide enough to park in. There was a white pickup there.”

“Whose was it? Was it Richie's?”

“I don't know, all I know is, I didn't kill him.”

“Was anybody else in the alley?”

“No, not that I saw.”

“Did anybody pass by and see you and Richie fight?”

“No one was around, I don't know.”

“Were any stores open, near the alley?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Was there any noise during your fight? Did Richie yell at you or shout?”

“No, why?”

“I'm wondering if we can find a witness, somebody who heard something. Like somebody from one of the surrounding buildings, in an apartment or something.”

“I didn't see anybody, I don't know who the hell killed him, but that guy took out the
trash
. You know the story, you remember.” Jason shook his head in disgust. “I'm not sorry he's dead, I'm
glad
he's dead.”

Bennie let it go, switching gears. “Jason, did the police give you your Miranda warnings when they arrested you?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't say anything to them after that, did you?”

“Yes, I did.” Jason frowned. “I was so freaked, I started talkin', like I couldn't shut up.”

“What did you say?” Bennie held her breath.

“I said I didn't do it, I don't know how it happened, but I wasn't sad about it. I told 'em, ‘
Good!
' I told 'em, ‘About damn time he paid for what he did to me,' and I got a lil' justice for once in my effing life!”

Bennie cringed inwardly. “Did you tell Detective Gallagher that, too?”

“Yeah, I did. He gave me Miranda warnings, and we went over the sheets.” Jason gestured at the papers. “I know, it was stupid to say anything to the cops. I know better,
anybody
knows better. I do the dumbest things, you don't even know.” Jason's shoulders slumped, as if he were deflating.

“When did you call me?”

“After he wanted me to sign the form, I figured I need a lawyer.”

“Did you tell the police you'd been drinking?”

“Yeah, the cops asked in the alley, but I told them I wasn't drunk. I
wasn't
. I'm not. The detective asked me that, too.”

“Okay.” Bennie didn't expect Jason to understand the legal significance of the alcohol. It could have nullified his statements, but his admission that he wasn't drunk would cut against him. Bennie wasn't hearing any basis for a motion to suppress. “When they brought you here, did they take your blood? DNA? Skin?”

“Yes. They also took pictures of the blood that was on me. They cleaned me up, after.”

“Was there blood on your clothes?”

“Yes, but I swear, I
didn't
do it.”

“Then how do you think blood got on you?” Bennie hid her puzzlement.

“I don't know, whatever, I
didn't
kill him. Somebody else put that knife in my hand, and I'm
not
goin' to go down for it, no matter what.”

“Okay, that'll do for now.” Bennie set her pad on the table. “This is very serious. I have to tell you, they have enough to charge you with first-degree murder.”

“So let 'em charge me, but I'm not pleading guilty to a murder I didn't do.”

“Jason, the sentence for first-degree murder is life in prison, without possibility of parole. It's mandatory.”

“I know that.”

“I'm sure I can get you a deal for ten, at most. If you plead guilty to third-degree murder—”

“You have to get me off. I didn't do it. End of discussion.”

“I'll be right back.” Bennie rose. “I have to see Detective Gallagher.”

“No deals, Bennie.” Jason scowled. “You know why.”

 

CHAPTER THREE

Bennie found Detective Gallagher on an ancient computer in an office so cramped that his desk shared space with a coatrack, and sleeves brushed against his case files. “Hi, got a minute?”

“Sure.” Detective Gallagher swiveled around, rolled a black chair from a nearby desk, and motioned her into it. “Please, feel free.”

“Thanks.” Bennie sat down in the chair, which wobbled slightly. She knew she had a losing cause, but that didn't mean she wouldn't put up a fight. “I don't think you have enough to charge him. The case is totally circumstantial.”

“Doesn't mean it's not a case.” Detective Gallagher retook his seat, his mouth a grim line. “Plus your client made a number of
res gestae
statements to the uniformed officer on the scene, as well as myself, during his interview.”

Bennie frowned. By
res gestae
statements, the detective meant what Jason had said about being happy Richie was dead. “They weren't admissions, and he also said he didn't do it.”

“True, but the jury won't be interested in the legal technicalities. Your client had bad blood with the victim. He handed us motive and he was found in the alley with the weapon.”

“The knife wasn't his. It was planted on him. Someone framed him for this.”

“Yeah, right.” Detective Gallagher snorted.

“Are you even investigating that? Richie Grusini had enemies. You need to look into his character and his history. That kid was bad to the bone.”

“Educate me.”

“Well, he—” Bennie stopped herself. She knew they had enough to charge Jason, so there was no point to showing her hand. “Forget it, let me ask you, was Grusini found with his wallet?”

“Yes. Money and all.”

“Phone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you learn anything from it?”

Detective Gallagher frowned. “The A.D.A. will let you know, when they have to.”

“How about a weapon? Did he have one on him?”

“
Your
boy had the knife.”

“But Grusini. Any weapon?”

“No.” Detective Gallagher spread his hands, palms up. “Bennie, be real. The way I see this case, these two had history, and it's a bar fight turned into a murder. Your client's a punk, not a cold-blooded killer. Problem is, a man is dead. According to your client, that's not the worst thing in the world. But the victim's family doesn't agree.”

“Have you notified them?” Bennie ignored the pang in her chest.

“Yes. We have enough to charge your client with general murder. You don't need me to tell you, that's fifteen to twenty years.”

Bennie knew, too well. It would be the prime of Jason's life, and after what he had gone through, could put him over the edge.

“On the other hand, if you let him talk to me, we can reduce it to third-degree murder, voluntary manslaughter. He'll do ten years, maybe less.” Detective Gallagher cocked his head, and the institutional lights shone on his bald scalp. “Let's make a deal. I can get the D.A. to go for it.”

“Jason didn't do it, Detective. He's innocent. He doesn't want a deal.”

“He should. He's jammed up.”

“He won't deal.”

“You really gonna make them try this?” Detective Gallagher frowned, and Bennie knew why. Almost everybody made a deal in Philly, and the truth was, plea bargains were often in the defendant's best interests.

“I'll give it a shot, but he's going to say no.” Bennie rose, resigned. A guilty plea would have been a no-brainer with any client but Jason Lefkavick.

She knew why, but she wasn't saying.

*   *   *

At dawn, Bennie found herself sitting in her coat in Arraignment Court, waiting for Jason to be arraigned. He'd declined the plea deal, and she understood. It had taken all night for him to be scheduled for arraignment, and though she hadn't gotten any sleep, she felt oddly energized. She'd never thought she'd get a second chance to come through for Jason, and it fueled her. She didn't love his story, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that the little boy she'd known had become a murderer, even after all he'd been through.