CUTTING ROOM -THE- (28 page)

‘Trust me, she's happy you're out of her hair,' Bear said.

‘Lepidus was appointed to the bench by Governor Bush in 2000. He handled hundreds of cases as a defense lawyer and virtually thousands of cases as a circuit court judge and then as an appellate judge with the Fourth DCA and the Supremes, where he lasted two years before he croaked. It would have taken me for ever to find that connection, if I ever did.'

Manny nodded thoughtfully.

‘It gets better. Or worse, depending how you look at it. In my diligent research of the Honorable, or turns out, the not-so-Honorable Judge Lepidus, I came across something else which may or may not be anything—'

‘Spit it out, old man.'

Mike smiled a crooked smile. ‘Did you know that Judge Reinaldo Lepidus was on the Florida Supreme Court when William Rupert Bantling's appeal was heard? As votes go, his was the one that broke the tie. Sorry, no new trial after all, Bill. Judge Lepidus actually wrote the damn opinion. He said the appellate court overstepped its authority when it overturned the trial judge's denial of a new trial. Said the trial judge did not abuse his discretion when he denied Bantling's demand for a new trial on ineffective assistance of counsel grounds and newly discovered evidence, and so the Third District Court of Appeals should never have granted Bantling a new trial. Lepidus was the one who ordered the original verdict reinstated — ultimately sending Cupid back to death row in 2006 and quashing his state appeals.'

‘Are you shitting me?' Manny asked, wide-eyed.

‘I ain't no lawyer, sonny boy, so I can't explain all the legal mumbo-jumbo to ya, but I'm sure your cute girlfriend can. She seems pretty smart.'

Manny stared at him. Mike grinned knowingly.

‘Insightful,' Manny replied. ‘For an old man who's supposed to be at the age he's forgetting shit.'

‘I've been called worse. I knew she had nice legs from Day One when you was rushing to see her for the Arthur on the Skole girl. Remember I told you that? I didn't even have to see her, I just knew.'

‘You're slick.'

‘You remind me a lot of myself in my younger days, Bear. Back when I was taller and had a lot more hair.' Mike rubbed his head. ‘Although maybe we have more in common along those lines, now. I played baseball, too, ya know.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Little League, but I could've gone much further if I hadn't been drafted. 'Nam called.'

‘A million excuses.'

‘I always went for the legs. Gam Man, the boys called me,' Mike went on. ‘Saw you two at the courthouse the other day. Hope you wear a better poker face when you interview street scum, Sonny. You looked like a fucking puppy, following Legs around. But she is definitely cute. Nice ass, too. Don't know what she sees in you, though.'

‘Me neither, Pops,' Manny answered with a smile. ‘I'm just glad she sees me. Course the same could be said about your wife. What you married now? Thirty?'

‘Don't go there. My Etta never looked like your prosecutor, although she did have nice legs before the veins started popping.' He whistled. ‘I'm jealous of you, Bear, but I can't do nothing about it without taking a pill anyway, so what's the point in fantasizing?'

Manny shook his head and picked up a crime-scene photo from his desk. ‘Good detective work there, Watson.' He frowned. ‘I'm gonna need to blow these pictures up, if possible, Mikey. I need to see if there are any marks—'

‘Done,' Mike said, slipping another crime-scene photo across the desk.

‘Jesus …' Manny said, looking up at Mike, wide-eyed.

‘Jesus is right,' replied Mike. ‘I knew this one would get you.'

The blonde-haired, brown-eyed Patricia Susanna Graber lay naked in a dumpster, her crumpled legs folded beneath her. But Mike had enlarged the photo, and what Manny immediately noticed was not the strangulation marks across the girl's pale throat, or the bruises on her thighs, or the vacant stare in her lifeless, open eyes.

It was the small, jagged black thunderbolt, seared into the flesh right over the girl's heart that immediately got his attention.

Daria had debated heading straight to Vance Collier's office on the fourth floor and telling him what happened before he saw it for himself tonight on the news, or read about it in the morning. Face up and take the medicine. But when she hit the elevator, she just couldn't do it. Not yet. She headed to her office to regroup her thoughts over a cup of coffee. Perhaps she should call Collier instead …

She looked out the window at the jail. In a few hours Lunders would be back on the street. Back in the mansion with his odd, hot mom. An out-of-custody defendant meant headaches on several scales. If he was entertaining a plea in that warped pretty head of his, extracting it would be a much more difficult task now. Jailbirds, once they'd tasted freedom, didn't ever want to go back in the cage. Especially if they were facing a long sentence. If Lunders was involved in a snuff club, being out of custody also meant he could contact witnesses, potentially destroy evidence, and alert possible co-conspirators — his fellow murderers.

Of course the snuff-club theory was nothing but a theory — it had been weeks since she and Manny had been to see Bantling and they still had not found any connection between Judge Lepidus and ‘Pat Graber'. Other than the word of a convicted serial killer, they'd found nothing to corroborate the club's existence. Although Manny was actively working the other murders out of St Pete and south Miami, and following up leads, nothing so far had led to either Talbot Lunders or Bill Bantling. For his part, Bantling was in prison at the time of both Florida murders; Lunders was in the Bahamas with his mother when Cyndi DeGregorio, the stripper from Florida City, had disappeared. Although Jane Doe, the unidentified victim from Tampa, was seen leaving the bar in the Don Cesar Hotel last April with a man who matched the description of Talbot Lunders, one year later the hotel employee who'd offered the initial description was unable to pick Talbot's picture out of a photo line-up.

Maybe it was pure coincidence that the victims had these similar tattoos/brandings on their persons. Maybe she and Manny had opened up a big bag of worms and handed the defense their defense. Or maybe, just maybe, Daria's gut had been right from the beginning — Abby Lunders had led them down this weird trail for a reason. Behind the concerned mom demeanor, there was something not to be trusted about the woman. Daria recalled the intimate embrace she'd witnessed in the courthouse between Abby and Talbot. It brought to mind the murdering mother–son grifters, Sante and Kenny Kimes, who'd shared a hell of a lot more than psychopathic genes. Yuck. Nothing much surprised her in this job anymore.

The phone rang at her desk and she jumped a little in her seat. It was probably Vance calling to scream at her because he had watched the news. She couldn't avoid his wrath forever. ‘State Attorney's. DeBianchi.'

‘I like that you're sitting at your desk, waiting for me to call,' Manny said with a chuckle when Daria picked up. ‘Not even one full ring. Now tell me, what are you wearing?'

She was relieved it wasn't Collier, but she also dreaded telling Manny how her morning had gone. She was no good at eating crow. ‘Funny,' she answered. ‘I was about to head upstairs to see Vance.'

‘Too bad for you. I don't like that guy.'

‘Really?'

‘Really. I've heard things about his “hands-on” approach. Watch yourself.'

‘It's cute you're jealous, but he's old enough to be my dad. Technically, at least.'

Manny cleared his throat.

‘I forgot — you are, too, I guess,' she added. ‘You have nothing to worry about.'

‘He's a limelight bather, Counselor. I'm not so much worried about him stealing my girl as I am him stealing your case.'

She bit her lip and swallowed hard. ‘We have to talk,' she said, twisting the phone cord in her fingers.

‘Yep. Something's happened,' he answered.

‘Where'd you hear it? On the news?'

‘Hear what? What's on the news?'

She swallowed again. ‘You first.'

‘Well, we found the connection between Reinaldo Lepidus and Pat Graber. Patricia Susanna Graber was a victim in a home invasion Lepidus handled as a defense attorney. She's dead now. They found her in a dumpster in Broward County in 1999, about two years after Lepidus's client went off to prison on a life sentence. All this happened before he took the bench. The murder's still unsolved.'

‘What? You're kidding!'

‘She had a lightning brand over her heart, Counselor.'

‘Jesus …'

‘What did I tell you about coincidences, huh? There ain't no such thing. Oh, and another thing that ain't so much a coincidence, now that I'm thinking about it. Judge Lepidus was on the Florida Supreme Court when Bantling was shipped back to death row. He cast the deciding vote and wrote the fucking opinion.'

‘No shit …' she sank into her chair, flabbergasted.

‘No shit. You'll have to read all the reasons why and then explain them to me. I love it when you talk to me in legalese. It's sexy.'

‘I'll have to read the opinion, but I'm guessing here that you're thinking Lepidus steered his cronies on the state's highest court to throw out Bantling's appeal, thereby effectively sending him back to death row? That's pretty steep.'

‘Something like that. All I know is that it was done. And nothing surprises me anymore, Counselor. Ponzi schemes are old hat, some cops are murderers, all lawyers — present company excluded, of course — are scum, and judges have flipped out before. Think of those knuckle-headed judges in Pennsylvania who sent kids to juvenile lock-up for cash kickbacks a year or so back. Nobody would've believed
that
until it happened. And remember that guy Wachtler? Wasn't he the big cheese on New York's highest court when he started stalking his ex-girlfriend and racking up the felonies?'

Daria stared at her votive candleholder filled with paper-clips. Manny was right. No one — not even a judge — was above reproach.

‘Okay. I just might buy that,' she said. ‘But if this club has that sort of reach, Manny …' Daria didn't finish her thought. ‘So why didn't you find this Pat Graber when you found Cyndi DeGregorio and the Jane Doe from Tampa?'

‘Graber's dead going on twelve years. We didn't look that far back. She might not be in ViCAP or the lightning brand might not have been entered in distinguishing marks. There're a number of reasons. Makes you wonder how many more we might be missing, Counselor. How big this thing might be.'

‘Okay,' she said slowly, trying to think like a defense attorney, three steps ahead. If Manny was right, this was probably the biggest scandal Miami would ever see. A snuff club of voyeur killers operating around the nation, possibly the world, with a Florida State Supreme Court judge as one of its members, officially sending another snuff-club member to death row to keep him quiet.
Who else might be a member of this club? How high would it go?

‘But we have to have something other than, “she was the victim in a criminal case he handled as a defense attorney” to implicate Lepidus in her murder, Manny.'

‘Like a video, you think?'

Daria sucked in a breath. ‘No way.'

‘The judge's widow was wife number two. Before he died in a boating accident last year, the happy couple hit an unhappy patch, that at one point looked like it might lead to divorce. The prudent little woman made and kept a copy of his risqué video collection, apparently as an insurance policy he wouldn't fuck her in a divorce settlement. Claims she never watched them all. Her attorney has them now — they're stuck in probate. He's not sure what's on them, or so he claims, but I got a feeling, Counselor. One of 'em's labeled
The Snitch
, according to the lawyer. Even though the judge is dead, his wife's attorney wants a warrant.'

‘Okay. I'll get it started,' she replied. ‘Right away.'

‘So what happened?' he asked.

‘Huh?'

‘What's on the news that I missed?'

She took a deep breath. Time to get it over with. ‘Judge Becker granted Lunders a bond. A hundred grand. He's gonna get out, probably this afternoon.'

‘Shit. On what grounds?'

She sighed. ‘Varlack wants everything: Vechio's video, the police reports. The other victims. The judge is really pissed off. I can't believe she let him out.'

‘He screamed Brady, didn't he?' Manny asked smugly. ‘Come on, tell me.'

‘Shut up.'

‘I knew it.
I
should've gone to law school. Do you want to say it with me, or should I say it all by myself?'

‘Get it over with,' she replied.

‘Told you so, Counselor. Now go redeem yourself and get me that fucking warrant.'

Vance Collier tapped his pen on his desk. Behind him, the tops of palm trees swayed angrily under menacing black skies, skies that ten minutes before had been beach-worthy blue. A volatile summer thunderstorm had suddenly appeared, as if conjured up by the Chief Assistant to fit his mood. ‘That's one helluva story,' he said to Daria, his brow furrowed. ‘What other connection do you have to Judge Lepidus and this girl? There has to be some physical evidence, something more than the assurances of a convicted serial killer. A serial killer who, coincidentally, is calling the same judge who sent him back to death row a murderer.'

Daria nodded. ‘Lepidus died in a boating accident. His estate is still in probate. Second wife is battling it out for her fair share. Apparently there were certain videotapes her attorney was holding on to because of a possible divorce action. More like holding hostage. We got a warrant and took a look. They're all pretty extreme, Vance — bondage, S&M, animals, latex, weird fetishes. Really hard core. Some look homemade, maybe borrowed or downloaded from a home-grown site. Lepidus features in a couple of them, but those seem to be consensual. We'll have to track down the girls to make sure, I suppose. Spliced into one of the homemade tapes was Patty Graber. It's her murder, Vance. It's just like the Gabriella Vechio video clip — bondage, S&M, black silk ropes. Only this one goes all the way to the finish line. The male in the video, who is definitely not Lepidus, strangles her with his bare hands while he's screwing her from behind and she's tethered to the ceiling.' She placed a flash drive on his desk. ‘It seems you really can trust a serial killer — Bantling was telling the truth.'