Justice (15 page)

He let go of my hand, pulled up his pants, and zipped himself up. Without thinking, I reached out to him. He blinked, then melted in my arms, my breasts a pillow for his head, his arms hugging me tightly. He lowered his head to my lap and looked at me with soft eyes. I stroked his hair, wondering who this boy really was.

“No one knows. Not my uncle, not Lorraine, not anyone. My mom knew about it, of course. So did my aunt Donna—Joey’s wife. Now it’s just you.”

“I hope there’s no connection,” I said. “Your mom and your aunt are both dead.”

His laughter was genuine. I said, “You have a doctor?”

“Of course. Yeah, he knows about it, too. Which is another reason why I knew that Cheryl’s baby couldn’t have been mine. Every time I go in for a checkup, they take a sperm count. I’m not totally sterile, but it’s pretty damn low. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to sire kids. That’s all right. I’d make a lousy father.”

“Did you use condoms with Cheryl that night?” I asked.

“Yeah. Not that Cheryl had a
no glove, no love
rule. She played it loose. It was me. I didn’t trust her.”

“Did you leave the condoms at the hotel?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t expect Cheryl to die.”

“So the police have evidence against you.”

“I wouldn’t call it evidence
against
me. Yes, I fu…
I had sex with her. So what? They still have to develop a case against me. They don’t have a motive.”

“Cheryl’s pregnancy.”

He kissed my crotch over my jeans. “It wasn’t mine—”

“Chris—”

“I know, I know. It looks bad.”

“You have to see your lawyers. You’re in trouble.”

“Yes, I am.” Again, he kissed denim between my legs. “I have to go. But I don’t want to go. Because once I leave here, I’m never going to see you again.”

“I don’t know about that.”

He sat up. “Teresa, I’m going down for this. No matter what the truth is, they’ll find a way to screw me. Because of my uncle. And when I go down, I don’t want your name associated with me, do you understand?”

“Chris—”

“
Listen
to me, Terry.
Listen
to me because I know what I’m talking about. It’s unlikely that the police’ll link me and you. We haven’t been together in months.”

He took my face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“But if they do…talk to you…you were my tutor, I was your student. Nothing more. I told you in earnest that I never wanted you grunged by any of my dirt. I mean that now more than ever. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my place. Don’t write. Don’t try to contact me. Don’t do anything on my behalf. Just forget I ever existed!”

“I don’t know if I can accept that,” I said.

“You’ve got to accept it, angel, because you’re
dead
to me! It’s got to be that way!”

Chris ravaged my mouth, then let go of my face.

“You start…trying to defend me…defend a
Donatti
…if you do that, the authorities’ll turn on you like rabid dogs and drag you over concrete with razor-sharp teeth. All your hard work, Terry…all your
dreams
’ll be flushed down the crapper just because you had the
bad luck to be loved by a bad boy. That’s the
last
thing I want. I’d rather do time than have them ruin you.”

“How would they
ruin
me?”

“Believe me, Terry, they have
ways
!”

The elevated view room
was separated from the larger interview room by a darkened one-way mirror. As Decker made final adjustments on the tape recorder and video camera, Scott Oliver stepped inside, closed the door, and took a seat at the table.

“The secretary from the McCaffrey
et al
. law firm called. They’re going to be late.”

Decker stopped fiddling with the controls of the camera and looked at his watch. Fifteen past five. “They’re already late. Is Whitman with them?”

“She says Whitman’s with them. The car just got stuck in rush-hour traffic.” Oliver took out a comb and ran it through thick, wavy hair. “Hope she’s telling the truth. Because if she’s jiving me and the kid bolted, I’ll bring her down along with the shysters who’re supposed to be the kid’s keepers.”

Decker smoothed his mustache. “It’s a well-established firm. They’d know better than to cover for Whitman.”

“Joseph Donatti’s a very big guy.”

The room fell silent. A moment later, Davidson and Elaine Reuter, the polygraph administrator, came in. Elaine was tall and slender with an attractive but somewhat equine face. She sat down at the table, but Davidson leaned against the wall, peering into the empty
interview room. Suddenly the area felt cramped. Decker broke into a sweat.

“Where the hell are Whitman and his legal eagles?” Davidson asked.

“Stuck in traffic,” Oliver said.

The lieutenant looked at his watch. “It’s twenty after. I don’t like it. We’ll go another ten minutes. Then we execute the warrant.”

Oliver said, “The secretary swears they’re on their way.”

“With Whitman.”

“With Whitman.”

“They’re hotshot lawyers,” Davidson said. “Their car must have a cellular phone.”

Oliver said, “I’ll get them on the horn.”

Decker said, “Might as well plan some strategy as long as we’re all here.”

Davidson looked at Oliver. “What’s he doing here?”

“He interviewed some of Whitman’s friends for me,” Decker said. “When I interview the kid, I want him around to make sure I don’t misquote his notes.”

“You want to do the polygraph before or after you question the kid?” Elaine asked.

“Before,” Decker said. “Get his initial reaction to the key questions on paper.”

“I got the cellular number.” Oliver started dialing. “Hope this sucker connects through.”

“Some people like to do the polygraph first,” Elaine said. “Other dees I’ve spoken with think it ruins the element of surprise during the interview.”

“I’m not pulling rabbits out of my hat,” Decker said. “I’m just using it as a gauge.”

Elaine said, “Since it’s inadmissible in court, it’s not good for much else. Too bad. In the hands of an experienced operator—like
moi
—you’ve got a real useful tool.”

“Unless you’ve got a psycho,” Oliver piped in, phone tucked under his chin. “Damn, another
busy
signal!”

“Do you have any problems with the questions I gave you?” Decker asked Elaine.

“No, they’re fine.”

Davidson said, “Lemme see the list.”

Elaine handed him a copy.

“How come you only got forty questions?”

“That’s all the firm’s allowing us,” Decker said.

“Including the basics,” Elaine said.

Davidson skimmed the questions. “So why are you asking Whitman about previous arrests? Isn’t his sheet clean?”

“According to the files, yes,” Decker said. “According to
me
, he’s been on the wrong side of the law before.”

“His lawyer’ll object to the questions. Write something else.”

“We’re testing Whitman’s reactions, Loo,” Decker said. “Even if the kid doesn’t answer the question, we’ll still get a reading on the graph when he
hears
it. Let the lawyers object.”

Oliver mimicked, “The cellular customer you are trying to reach is currently away from the mobile phone….” He slammed down the receiver. “I don’t like this.”

Davidson regarded the room clock. “Another minute.”

The phone rang. Decker picked it up, told the operator thank you. “They’re here.”

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. The place fell silent. A moment later, uniformed officer Latimer escorted three figures into the interview room below.

Elaine’s eyes widened. “Who’s the big blond in the black silk blazer?”

“Christopher Whitman,” Decker said.

“He’s only eighteen?” Davidson said.

“According to his records,” Decker answered.

“I don’t believe it,” Elaine said.

“He looks older,” Davidson answered. “In his twenties.”

“Up close, he looks younger,” Decker said. “It’s his expression.”

“Yep,” Oliver agreed. “It says:
Done it all, seen it all
.”

“A genuine stud muffin,” Elaine answered. “He looks too good to be straight.”

Decker raised his brow. “Maybe he isn’t.”

“Homosexual panic,” Davidson nodded. “He couldn’t get it up. She teased him. He got pissed. No more teasing. I like that.”

Oliver said, “Weren’t there two used condoms in the room?”

“Not to mention the semen inside the victim,” Decker said.

Davidson said, “Who said the fluids belong to Whitman?”

Oliver asked, “Do they?”

“We haven’t asked Whitman for a sample yet,” Decker said. “Until now, I haven’t been able to approach him.”

“He likes classical music, doesn’t he?” Davidson said.

“He’s a classical cellist,” Oliver said.

“Loo, lots of people like classical music,” Decker said.

“Not eighteen-year-old red-blooded males,” Davidson pronounced. “They like that heavy metal shit. Gets the hormones pumping. I’m telling you he’s queer.”

Elaine frowned. “Another one bites the dust.”

Davidson said, “Elaine, ask him if he’s ever had a homosexual encounter.”

“You’re over forty questions.”

“Throw it in anyway. And if you can get away with it, ask him if he’s homosexual or bisexual.”

“Got it,” Elaine answered. “Who’s the silver fox in the gray Armani suit?”

Decker studied the figure below—six one, one-eighty, medium build, alert blue eyes, round clean-shaven ruddy face, his cheeks imprinted with webs of small veins.

“James Moody,” he said. The guy must be close to sixty by now.”

“He looks good for his age,” Elaine said.

Decker’s eye drifted to the younger lawyer. Double-breasted Hugo Boss suit, white shirt, red silk tie. Five ten, one-ninety. Strong features, slicked-back black hair with dark eyes and thick brows. “The other one is Mark Kramarze. He likes young girls.”

Oliver said, “How young?”

“Pubescent but barely so.”

“What were your dealings with him?” Davidson asked.

“One of my old Foothill juvey cases involved a thirteen-year-old runaway who’d been roughed up.”

“Kramarze?” Oliver asked.

“Not officially,” Decker said. “She dropped the charges.”

Davidson said, “How much he pay her?”

“Probably five grand. That was the going rate.”

Oliver said, “Chrissie has himself surrounded by some fine citizens.”

“Kramarze is along as the secretary,” Decker said. “Moody’s the head honcho and he is
good
.”

“Turn up the mike,” Davidson said. “I can’t hear what they’re saying.” Oliver cranked up the volume.

Moody said, “Comfortable, Chris
?”

Whitman nodded
.

“
Do you want some water?” Moody didn’t wait for an answer. “Officer, may we please have a pitcher and three glasses of water
?”

Latimer nodded and left the room to fetch
.

“
How long do you think this will take?” Kramarze asked
.

“
Pitch a tent, Mark,” Moody said. “You’re going to miss the ball game. Take out the recorder and start set
ting up.” He looked at the one-way mirror. “Can we get going please
?”

Decker spoke into the mike. “We were ready a half hour ago, Mr. Moody.”

“
It heartens me to see LA’s finest so prompt.” Moody took a leather folder from his briefcase and a gold pen. “Glad to see my tax dollars at work
.”

Elaine turned to Decker. “Want me to set up now?”

“Please.” Decker studied the men through the one-way mirror, watched Whitman’s reaction when Elaine came in pushing a cart that held not only the polygraph machine but also a printer, a ream of computer graph paper,
and
a half-dozen dangling electrodes.

Whitman’s eyes fell on the cart, but Decker saw that he stared through the equipment, his expression flat and vacant. Something about him was different. He didn’t appear scared or nervous or even apprehensive. But he wasn’t the cocky teen Decker had interviewed yesterday.

Decker studied the kid’s face.

Whitman seemed
deflated
. Something—or someone—had knocked the wind from his sails.

Elaine began hooking the electrodes up to her stud muffin, separating arm hair, exposing tiny patches of Whitman’s skin to get optimal conduction between body and machine.

The boy didn’t flinch.

And that said a lot. Because Decker knew that electrodes on the skin
always
conjured up images of the electric chair.

To Elaine Moody said, “May I see the list of preprinted questions
?”

“
That isn’t normal procedure,” Elaine said evenly. “Besides, you couldn’t read my handwriting. However, you can guide your client any way you see fit
.”

“
Thank you for your permission
.”

“No need for the sarcasm, Jimmy,” Decker said.

“Moody’s uptight,” Davidson said.

“He’s trying to intimidate Elaine,” Decker said.
“She’s too much the pro to buy into that.”

Davidson said, “The kid looks guilty to me.”

“He isn’t acting nervous,” Oliver said.

Davidson continued to peer through the mirror. “Well, he looks something.”

“
Not more than forty questions,” Moody said to Elaine. “I’m keeping track. We’ve agreed to cooperate with authorities, but not at the expense of my client’s health
.”

“I’ll say,” Oliver said. “Whitman looks
tired
. That’s not good. Fatigue deadens the emotions. Look at how passive he is with Elaine. She’s plugging him in and he’s just sitting there like road kill. You don’t have any anxiety, you’re gonna pass the test.”

“He’s got anxiety,” Davidson said. “Look at his eyes.”

“His eyes look dead to me,” Oliver said. “I’m telling you, there’s no one home over there.”

Elaine spoke with a seasoned air. “I’m going to do some preliminary tests on you, Mr. Whitman. Just to make sure the machine is working properly. Is that all right with you
?”

Chris paused a beat, then said yes
.

“Uh-oh,” Oliver said. “I don’t like that, either. The pause before he answered. Someone coached him on how to use the machine—to wait before answering, even if the question is routine.”

“Of course someone
coached
him,” Decker said. “He’s being represented by the best.”

“The best the mob can buy,” Davidson said.

Elaine said to Moody, “These are just test questions. They don’t count in the list of forty questions
.”

“
In your mind, they don’t,” Moody said. “In my mind, they do
.”

Whitman crooked a finger at Moody. The lawyer bent over and Chris whispered in his attorney’s ear
.

Moody straightened up and said, “We’ll let it pass
.”

Officer Latimer came back in with the water and three
glasses. Moody said, “Would you like something to drink, Chris
?”

Whitman shook his head no
.

Elaine started with her test questions, Whitman answered them mechanically, his voice a soft monotone
.

“He’s good,” Davidson said.

Decker nodded. “Yes, he is.”

Elaine asked for the go-ahead. Davidson gave her the green light.

“
Is your name Christopher Sean Whitman
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Are you eighteen years old
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Were you born in New York City on July first
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
And were you adopted at the age of thirteen by Joseph and Donna Angelica Donatti
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Is Mr. Donatti still your legal father
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Is Mr. Donatti currently supporting you
?”

Moody broke in. “Ms. Reuter, what financial arrangements father and son make bears no relevance to you or your case. Next question
.”

“Number-one goal of the shysters,” Oliver whispered. “Get Donatti
out
of the picture.”

“You got it,” Decker said.

“
Mr. Whitman, do you attend Central West Valley High School
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Are you a senior at Central West Valley High School
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Did you attend the senior prom at Central West Valley High School
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Have you ever been arrested before
?”

Again Moody interrupted. “The police know very well
that Mr. Whitman has a clean record. It was stated at his bail hearing
.”

Davidson looked at Decker. “Told you.”

Decker shrugged.

Moody said, “What number question, Mark
?”

“
Ten
.”

“
Proceed
.”

Elaine said, “Did you attend the senior prom at Central West Valley High School with a date
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
Was your date Cheryl Diggs
?”

“
Yes
.”

“
And was Cheryl Diggs your girlfriend
?”