Murder in Germantown (16 page)

“
May as well get right to it,” she said, and led the way to the body refrigerator where the victims were stored.

Dr. Matsuda gave the facts succinctly and very legibly. The cause of death was undisputable. The murderer’s weapon of choice was a firearm. She used murderer because she had ruled out suicide and accident. Two of the vics caught bullets in the cranium. One in the left parietal. The other in the occipital. The third vic was shot in the chest cavity, stopping all heart features needed to sustain life. The time of death was between midnight and two a.m.

“
You look like there’s a surprise on the tip of your tongue,” Rude said to her.

I added, “Hopefully, it is not a devastating one. For the defense anyway.”

“
Let’s take a look at the bodies,” Dr. Matsuda said.

There was nothing like the features of a cold, dead body. Victim 1’s toe tag identified him as Lawrence Miller, the lawyer. His yellowish complexion was pale and the area of his scalp which had been shaved was wrinkled. There was a bright orange one-inch, earplug type foam planted on the spot where the bullet entered. It was slanted.

“
The bullet penetrated the back of Mr. Miller’s head from a downward angle and became lodged in his throat,” the doctor said.

“
Which means that the shooter had to have been in the tree where the casings were found,” Rude said.

I just listened to the details. Avariciously, analyzing everything I saw and heard. I’d get both of their written reports and sink my teeth into them, wholeheartedly. I was not a scientist, yet, but I would be though.

“
Mr. McKeithan was shot head on. I surmised that he was in motion. And, Mr. Daniels, the last vic, was lying down based on the direction that the bullet traveled through his cranium.”

Rude watched her lips say every word. He was really in investigator mode. Dr. Matsuda walked us from the ice box of bodies to her office, which was equally cold. She went into a file and handed it to Rude. Not me, as if I wasn’t lead counsel.

She said, “Everything in the report is as I’ve stated, but take a look at page six.”

Rude turned to page six, and I looked over his shoulders. We both looked at each other and smiled.

Dr. Matsuda confirmed my thoughts.

“
One of our guys did the prelim report, but it’ll return from the specialist very conclusive that Mr. McKeithan was shot with a different weapon than the other two.”

“
This was not in the initial preliminary autopsy report sent over to me this morning.” I barked, angrily.

Cynthia had nerve. No wonder the report was so timely.

“
I know,” Dr. Matsuda said. “They intended to keep the finding and then spring it on you just before the prelim. But I always keep the defense abreast of these sorts of findings when a man’s life is on the line. I become quite hostile when upset defense attorneys growl at me when I am on the witness stand, as if I am the one that shot a hole in their case.”

“
Lil, you’re a godsend,” Rude said.

“
Thanks, doctor. We will be in touch,” I told her.

My first time in a morgue went rather good considering I had two gunmen.

Outside, I asked Rude, “You fucked, Dr. Lillian Matsuda?”

“
Maybe.”

“
You sly bastard. I can find out if you did. You’re not the only investigator.”

“
Anything is possible.”

“
For me, probable.”

“
Try!”

CHAPTER 37

I walked into my office and the crime scene photos awaited me. The 8x10 color glossies were in a three-ring binder. I looked at the LaSalle keychain because it was the most damaging photo that Rude had taken. If Wydell’s prints were on that keychain, I would need a BC era miracle to keep him off death row. I wished for a moment that Rude had not found it. I was worrying prematurely. If there were no latent prints, then cool, but if Wydell’s prints were all over it, he couldn’t get out of being at the scene. That didn’t make him a murderer, though.

Next, I looked at the photos marked: shooter position. Wydell was tall enough to climb that tree and agile enough. I doubted that he could shoot through the window, jump in the tree, and then shoot two other men with a different weapon. Anyone there would be crawling away from the alcove. Even if it took five seconds, especially with the shooter’s proposed shooting location.

Jonathan Rude entered my office and began going through his slides. He seemed impressed with his work. Maybe Rude had found a hobby?

“
There’s no picture to tell us who was shot first?” he informed me. “It’ll be nice to know.”

He opened the binder of photos to the picture of the tree where the shell casings were found.

He said, “If McKeithan was shot first, that means the shooter shot him, climbed into the tree, and then shot Miller and Daniels with an entirely different weapon.”

“
Not hardly,” I replied. “We have a second shooter, Jon. I wonder what Cynthia has to say about that.”

“
Probably nothing. That just means he had help. Or her and her imbecile team will come up with some foolishness to explain how agile Wydell is.”

“
No, Jon. They’re not that dumb,” I said and chuckled. “They’ll give him an accomplice and lean on him with a plea to rat his accomplice out of hiding. That’ll never fly.”

“
So you believe that he did it?”

“
Not sure yet. But I am leaning towards no.”

“
We need witnesses from that party.”

“
Let me handle that. Believe it or not, I used to run with a few of the hoodlums at this party. These were no ordinary corner boys. The attendees were the crème de la crème of the drug dealers.”

“
So we’re looking for a rival drug dealer, maybe?”

“
Maybe. We need to get the prints on that keychain.”

“
Already being taken care of.”

“
Let me guess. Dr. Lillian Matsuda put a rush on it for ya?”

“
You’re so jealous,” he said and flashed a smile.

I chuckled.

“
Any prints other than Wydell’s on the weapon?”

“
Only a preliminary finding, but there were none.”

“
We need that to be conclusive. We need to find out whether the bullets were fired from Wydell’s gun and what type of gun was the other one. Also, could you go back to the crime scene and recreate the murderer’s movements. Did he jump from the tree, or onto the tree? I’ve spoken with the girlfriend via telephone and she’s on her way down. She’s really adamant that Wydell is innocent.”

“
The forensics are out of my hands. I’ll drive back up to the crime scene and get you that re-creation.”

“
Also, could you poke around the campus and find out who will, and can, testify that Wydell was at a victory party. I need the times nailed down precisely. I’m going to go up to the cab company and to the hood to get some information to reconstruct this charade.”

“
Good. I’ll hold out on getting the recreation. Be sure to find out how much time separated the killings.”

Rude got up to leave and suddenly, I had one last question. “Did you get the owner’s name of the home?”

He pulled a printout from a folder and passed it to me. I thanked him and he left to do what he did best. I sat for a moment and then walked to the window and pondered. A few things bothered me that needed to be addressed.

One, my client seemed to have a concrete alibi, but the deaths were given estimated times of death between midnight and two. Wydell claimed to have called a taxi at 12:30 and was in a cab by one. I made a note to get the exact number of minutes it would take a cab to get from LaSalle to the 100 west block of Seymour Street. No more than seven I’d say. Before that was solid, I needed to know what time the shootings occurred. If they happened when the first of ten police calls came in, that would be 1:35 a.m. Certainly, Wydell could have made the Chestnut Hill trip, but wouldn’t he encounter people coming and going from the home? He needed time to set up, right?

Two, Wydell offered me 30K without explanation. Who lived on Seymour Street with that much money to burn? I thought and realized that quite a few did. I had seen dope dealers own Benz’s and live in housing projects with their baby mamas. I had also seen them drive the same type of vehicles and live in their moms’ run down homes. But they had fancy wardrobes and TVs in the headrests of their cars. If something damaging came out about my client and his money, he would be off to Graterford’s death row, and I would face disbarment.

Three, I wondered should I be looking for an alternative killer? That was the PPD’s job, but I could find him and use him to set my client free. That would have been nice--to be applauded in the media for withdrawing a college athlete from the throngs of a flawed criminal justice system and depositing him into death row.

I usually did not need to rely on shady tactics to garner an acquittal, but I couldn’t see Wydell James railroaded. Cynthia actually hit me first by withholding exculpatory evidence. I am a non-violent person, but it was time to practice what I had preached to Brandon. I told him that if someone hit him, he had better hit their ass back! Cynthia was about to be hit, and I didn’t care that she was a girl. She had a punch like Laila Ali.

CHAPTER 38

Wydell’s girlfriend, Shannon, met me at Sole Food, a seafood restaurant in the lobby of the Lowes Hotel. I ate there religiously, and had a running tab that didn’t seem to quit. I had many lunch dates there to impress clients, but today was different. I was on very serious business, as a man’s life was on the line. It had only been fifteen minutes of chit chat about nothing. I had already forgotten, Wydell’s girlfriend’s name. Despite that, I asked her to tell me about Wydell.

She grinned, a pretty look, full lips, painted a shade of red.

“
Well, let’s see. We’re both marketing majors.”

“
Both!” I interrupted her half choking off lobster meat. “Pardon my rudeness.”

“
You didn’t know that?”

“
Of course not,” I said and pulled out a tape recorder. “I’d like to record all of this.”

“
Sure. Fine. We are in our last semester. Graduate in May. He was already accepted into the Wharton School of Business at U of Penn.”

I couldn’t suppress the grin, or my awe. I was a little embarrassed not to know this information.

She continued. She spoke very carefully and coyly.

“
He’d have to be extremely pissed off to kill.”

“
I’d say that is a given, wouldn’t you agree?”

I sipped my Sprite.

Shannon shifted in her seat. “You once wrote that there are two types of murder. One is premeditated and the other stemming from passion. This was deliberate triple homicide, and Wydell was not there, so that rules out both for him. He was playing a school game from six to ten, and then attended a victory party.”

“
He was on the basketball team?”

That was a stupid question, but my Wydell updates continued to get better. Some people said that there were no stupid questions. I totally disagree.

“
He was the team, Mr. Lemmelle.”

All righty then.

“
Do you know about an argument he had with one of the deceased?”

“
No, but I know that he hated them. Always talking about becoming that man to reform his neighborhood. Get rid of the punks that were destroying people’s lives with drugs.”

Motive. Legally, I couldn’t tell her to never repeat that to Cynthia. Cynthia could spin that line like a DJ.

I then asked, “Have you read my article where I proposed potential defense character witnesses should be barred from speaking to the prosecution?”

“
I did. I have no intentions of speaking with the DA. After what they’ve done to Wydell. Ruining his last semester. He was going to move him and his family to a better area. I am a white African, Mr. Lemmelle. Born in Lesotho, South Africa. Trust me, I understand the plight. So, no offense.”

“
None taken. You seem passionate about Wydell.”

Shannon batted thick eye lashes.

“
Wydell is a very charming man. I adore him, Mr. Lemmelle. He worships me and does not hesitate to be romantic. A real gentleman. Beneath his braids is a beautiful mind. Upon graduation he intended to lose the braids for a conventional business look,” she huffed and looked into the ceiling as if holding back tears. “Mr. Lemmelle, I once caught him reading an etiquette book.”