Every Reasonable Doubt (14 page)

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Authors: Pamela Samuels Young

Tags: #Romance, #Suspense, #Thriller, #Mystery, #Fiction

BOOK: Every Reasonable Doubt
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CHAPTER 26
 

T
he chore of planning Lawton’s funeral fell to Neddy despite their long, antagonistic estrangement. She decided to take a couple of days off, but only after O’Reilly basically banned her from the office. The court agreed to grant our motion to continue the preliminary hearing for a week.

Julie, surprisingly, didn’t oppose our motion. She even provided us with a list of witnesses she planned to call at the prelim without us having to fight for it. She listed four names: the crime scene investigator and the coroner, whom we expected; Ernestine Frye, Max Montgomery’s personal assistant; and Oscar Lopez, a room service waiter at the Ritz-Carlton.

While Neddy was busy making funeral arrangements, I asked Detective Smith, the investigator she had hired to do the background check on Max Montgomery, to accompany me to the Ritz-Carlton. I was hoping to interview Lopez. We found out that not only did he tell police that he saw a woman who resembled Tina outside Max’s hotel room the night of the murder, but that the woman supposedly had a knife in her hand. That was some pretty damaging evidence, and I wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

Detective Smith was a tall, well-built African American who had a cop’s walk, full of bravado, and a therapist’s demeanor. Perceptive and supportive. A black Dr. Phil.

“Excuse my fashion critique,” he said with a full smile upon greeting me in the hotel lobby. “But I’m not sure you’re really dressed the part.”

We had met a couple of times at the office and I’d taken an immediate liking to him.

“So just how am I supposed to be dressed?” I pretended to be put out by his comment. “This is one of my nicest suits.”

“You’re dressed like a lawyer,” he chuckled. “The kid’s already going to be scared to death. He probably hates the thought of having to testify and no telling what the prosecutor has threatened him with if he doesn’t. I doubt you’re going to be able to get him to say a word dressed like that. You’re decked out like you’re ready to deliver closing arguments to a jury.”

I surveyed Detective Smith’s jeans and golf shirt. “No offense,” I said, “but you haven’t seen me work yet. I’m a pretty decent interrogator.”

“You’re the boss,” he said with a friendly shrug.

We headed for the registration desk. “Can you tell me where I can find Oscar Lopez?” I asked. “He’s a room service waiter here.”

The desk clerk, a pretty sorority-girl type, sensed a problem. “You’ll have to check with the catering supervisor. I’ll call him.”

A few minutes later, a young Filipino man approached. I extended my hand. “I’m Vernetta Henderson. I’m investigating the murder that took place here a few weeks ago. We’d like to speak with Oscar Lopez.”

“He’s on duty right now,” the man said impatiently. “I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to him before or after work. And I’ll tell you now, I doubt he’ll have anything to say.”

“I was hoping to catch him during one of his breaks,” I said, wishing I could whip out a prosecutor’s badge and force the supervisor to drag Oscar out to talk to me now.

“Lunch was over an hour ago and we’re pretty busy. We’re gearing up for a big banquet tonight.” He wasn’t budging.

“What time is Mr. Lopez off duty?”

“Six. He works nine to six. It could be later if there’s overtime.”

I glanced at my watch. It was only two o’clock. We couldn’t afford to hang around for another four hours.

“Thanks,” I said. “We’ll come back later.”

As the supervisor walked off, I turned to Detective Smith. “Well, this was a wasted trip.”

“Not yet it isn’t,” he said. “Let’s go have a late lunch. You can watch me do
my
work. But you’ll need to sit at a different table.”

I was puzzled by his instruction, but complied anyway.

“Make sure you sit within earshot though,” he said with a wink. “And take notes.”

The hotel restaurant was nearly empty. I took a small table near the detective. I’d already eaten lunch. I looked for something on the menu I could take home to Jefferson. Detective Smith ordered coffee and a club sandwich. I ordered the spicy chicken pasta.

I was getting bored watching the detective slowly munch on his sandwich and loudly slurp his coffee. When he was nearly done eating, he signaled for the waitress. After reviewing the bill, complimenting the service, and placing a twenty-dollar tip on the table, he struck up a conversation with the waitress as she freshened up his coffee.

“Everybody around here must’ve been pretty shaken up about that murder, huh?” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it. “Something like that doesn’t happen at a classy place like this very often.”

“You can say that again,” she replied. She was a middle-aged white woman whose leathery skin, dull gray hair, and wrinkled hands, advertised that she’d had a hard life. “The cops were all over the place. I still see ‘em around every now and then.”

“I heard one of the waiters saw the murderer,” Detective Smith said.

The woman stopped and turned to look over both of her shoulders. “You’re talking about Oscar,” she whispered, leaning in closer to the detective. “He’s scared to death. The day after the murder he was walking around telling everybody he saw a woman on the fifth floor with a knife. But when the police picked him up for questioning, he got really scared.”

“So Oscar really didn’t see anybody?”

“Who knows?” she said. “Oscar is always mouthing off. He exaggerates quite a bit. Likes to be in the middle of things. I hear he’s afraid that if he changes his story, the INS might come looking for him.”

“He’s not here legally?”

“He’s legal, but his work visa expires in a few months. He thinks they might try to deport him.”

Detective Smith rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward. “So his testimony might not be too reliable?”

“I wouldn’t bet the rent on it,” she said, looking over her shoulder again. “He swears he saw someone, but he can’t remember much else. I think he made up the stuff about the knife. He wasn’t even sure whether the woman was wearing a long dress or a short one. Oscar’s eyes aren’t too good.”

When the waitress walked away, the detective waved me over.

“Well?” he said smugly.

I had to admit, I was pretty impressed. “Let’s make a deal,” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down across from him. “From here on out, I’ll handle the legal stuff and leave the investigating to you.”

“Deal,” he said.

After agreeing that Detective Smith would follow up with Lopez and also interview some of the other hotel workers, we walked to our respective cars. Just as I was about to climb into my SUV, Detective Smith stopped me.

“I have something I need to share with you, but you have to promise to keep it confidential.”

“Can I tell Neddy?” I asked.

“Definitely not.”

What could he possibly have to tell me that I couldn’t share with Neddy? “Get in,” I said, my mind already jumping to conclusions.

He walked around, climbed into the passenger side of my Land Cruiser, and closed the door. “This is only a rumor,” he began, “but I think it’s a pretty reliable one. The police have a suspect in the murder of Neddy’s husband.”

“They do? Who is it?”

Detective Smith took in a lungful of air. “It’s Neddy,” he said. “The police think Neddy murdered her husband.”

CHAPTER 27
 

I
t only took a matter of hours for Detective Smith’s rumor to transform itself into fact. Just after one o’clock the following day, O’Reilly walked into my office and tossed the
L.A. Times
on my desk.

“Did we make headlines again?” I asked, taking a sip from a can of Diet Coke. I had just finished eating lunch at my desk.

O’Reilly didn’t respond. He simply towered over me and waited for my eyes to take in the headline.

When they did, the Diet Coke I’d just taken in squirted from my mouth, dousing the newspaper with brown dots. Defense Lawyer in Montgomery Murder Case May be Murder Suspect Herself
,
the headline read.

I jumped to my feet. “What the hell is this? Have you talked to Neddy? Has she seen this crap?”

O’Reilly dabbed the newspaper with a napkin that had come with my Caesar salad. “This doesn’t look good for the firm,” he said sternly. He took a seat in front of my desk, then pointed his finger at my chair, directing me to sit down.

The firm?
“I think we need to be thinking about Neddy right now,” I said. “How can they print this stuff? This is defamatory. The
Times
doesn’t usually run stories like this without checking out their facts first. What’s going on?”

O’Reilly looked over his shoulder at the open door, then got up to close it. “It’s not defamatory if Neddy’s actually a suspect,” he said in a low, measured voice. “I made some calls. There could be a pretty strong circumstantial case against her.”

Even though Detective Smith had already told me this was a possibility, it still upset me to see it in black and white. “Are you telling me you actually think Neddy killed her husband?” The question didn’t even sound right coming from my lips.

His lips remained shut, but his eyes answered yes.

“O’Reilly, this is nuts. I’ll bet Julie Killabrew planted this story. It’s probably a ploy to get the upper hand in the Montgomery trial. I hear she plays dirty.”

“I know Julie,” he said. “She’s ambitious and she doesn’t always play by the rules, but I doubt she’d stoop this low.”

“This is insane,” was all I could say. “Neddy couldn’t kill anybody.”

“The first thing I learned during my days as a prosecutor is that anybody is capable of murder.”

“So you do believe Neddy killed her husband.” There. I’d said it again.

“I have no idea.” O’Reilly dropped his head back over the edge of the chair and studied the ceiling. His face was heavy with worry.

“O’Reilly, I was with Neddy after she found out about her husband’s murder. She was in too much grief to have killed him.”

O’Reilly laughed softly. “You definitely aren’t a criminal attorney, Vernetta. Since when does showing grief have anything to do with guilt or innocence? And just like Tina Montgomery, Neddy had motive. She was going nuts over having to pay her husband alimony.”

“That’s still not a reason to kill.” The words I’d overhead Neddy scream at her husband suddenly rang in my ears.
I’ll kill you before I give you a dime.
And that night outside Starbucks, she’d even said that he deserved to die. The same way Max Montgomery had died.

“There was more to Neddy’s riff with her husband than money,” O’Reilly continued. I could tell by the look on his face that he was really troubled. “I don’t think she’s ever gotten over the death of her son. And nobody but her husband was to blame for that.” He stood up. “I’m taking her off the Montgomery case until this blows over.”

“No way!” I said, bouncing out of my chair again. “Neddy’s all prepared for it.”

“It’s just a prelim and everybody knows the judge is going to find probable cause and the case is going to trial. You can handle it. You know the facts as well as Neddy does. You’ll do fine. Hopefully Neddy’s situation will be resolved long before the case is set for trial.”

I continued to protest. “You’re reading too much into that newspaper article. It’s just gossip. Nobody’s even charged Neddy with anything.”

“That’s true. But everybody interviewed by the police fingered her as the only one who wanted Lawton dead. I just hope she has a solid alibi.”

“Have you talked to her yet?”

“No,” he said, in a way that told me he dreaded even thinking about the task.

“Shouldn’t you give her that courtesy before taking her off the case?”

“Of course, I plan to talk to her.” He sounded as if I was getting on his nerves. “But I have to do what’s in the best interest of the client and the firm.”

“Neddy’s being falsely accused of a crime might actually benefit Tina Montgomery. It would make her even more empathetic to Tina’s plight.”

“Neddy can empathize all she wants,” he said. “But she can’t defend Tina Montgomery if they’re sharing the same jail cell.”

He had a point, but only if Neddy actually ended up in jail. As far as I was concerned, she was innocent until proven guilty. “O’Reilly, I really think you’re overreacting. And you’re forgetting that I’m not a criminal attorney. I can’t handle this case by myself.”

“I haven’t forgotten that.” He averted his eyes. “David’s joining you on the case until this thing with Neddy blows over.”

Please God, no!
“Isn’t there anybody else?” I said, my voice registering panic. “Somebody with less of an ego.”

“Nope.” He knew I wasn’t happy about this news, but he was holding firm. “David and Neddy are the best criminal attorneys we’ve got. This case could make national headlines. I need my best troops on the front line. You two did a fine job in the Hayes case.”

“Yeah, because I tolerated him. What if Tina doesn’t go for this?”

“She will. Just tell her that until Neddy’s name is cleared, David’s filling in. I still want Neddy calling the shots from behind the scenes. I’m sure Tina Montgomery’ll agree that it won’t look good to have a murder suspect heading up her defense team.”

“So we’re letting the
L.A. Times
dictate how we staff our cases now?”

“The
Times
isn’t dictating anything. I am.” O’Reilly grabbed the newspaper and walked toward the door. “I just dropped by to let you know what was going on, Vernetta. Not to get your permission.”

He was pulling rank and there was nothing I could do about it.

CHAPTER 28
 

A
s soon as O’Reilly left, I dialed Neddy’s office. No answer. When I called her home phone, she didn’t pick up until she heard my voice on her answering machine.

“I need to warn you,” I said.

“Too late. I’ve got the great
L.A. Times
right here in front of me and I’m reading all the news that ain’t fit to print. Think I should sue ‘em for defamation?” She actually sounded lighthearted.

“Speaking as your attorney, I’d advise against that for the time being. You, okay, girl?”

“Hell no. I’ve defended dozens of murder suspects. Didn’t think I’d ever be one.”

I could hear the running of water and the clinking and panging of dishes in the background. “You’re not. This is just media hype. You think Julie had anything to do with planting that story?”

“God, I hope not. The
Times
is pretty good about verifying their sources. So I guess the police are going to come knocking on my door and drag me away any minute now.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking this so calmly,” I said.

“You should’ve called here an hour ago. Before I had a chance to calm down.”

I moved on to the real purpose of my call. “I think O’Reilly’s going to take you off the Montgomery case,” I said.

She didn’t make a sound. But I knew her well enough to know that she had closed her eyes and was probably shaking her head.

“You okay?”

“Yep,” she replied. But I could tell she wasn’t. “I guess he has to do what he has to do. I told you I was thinking about asking for a leave of absence anyway. Maybe this is God’s way of forcing me to proceed with that plan. Can’t have a murderer defending a murderer.”

“Don’t joke like that, Neddy,” I scolded. “I don`t know about Tina Montgomery, but you’re not a murderer. And you can’t leave the case.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but didn’t you just tell me I’m getting booted off?”

“Only temporarily,” I said. The background noise quieted down and I assumed she had left the kitchen. “Just until this thing with Lawton is resolved.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said. “So who’s O’Reilly teaming you up with?”

“David,” I said sadly. “But he still wants you involved behind the scenes, making sure we don’t screw things up.”

“You two are turning out to be quite the little twosome,” she teased.

But this was no laughing matter for me. “I’m definitely not looking forward to working with David again. I guess we should tell Tina about this as soon as possible. I’ll try to set up a meeting with her this evening.”

“I know David’s a little hard to take sometimes, but to be honest, I’ve never worked with anybody who was better at focusing in on the minute details of a case. He can comb through a box of documents and come up with the one piece of evidence to turn the case around. He did that in a couple of cases I’ve had with him.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said. “I don’t care who they assign me to work with. I’m still going to be relying on you for guidance.”

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