Murder on the Down Low (38 page)

“We don’t need him!” Vernetta insisted. “He’s too damn negative. With his attitude, we might as well take a guilty plea now. I refuse to work with somebody like that.”

“Fine.” Sam grabbed the door and hurled it open. “You two are on your own.”

L
ooks like your secret is finally out.”

Ray Martinez sat up in bed and stretched as his partner approached.

Antonio tossed the
Long Beach Press-Telegram
onto his lap. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

Martinez picked up the paper. At first, the page one headline startled him:
Gay D.A. Goes on Attack in Down Low Murder Case.
There was a picture of Martinez outside the courthouse at yesterday’s news conference. He scanned the article and slowed halfway through it.

The Stanford Law grad, who has resided with his partner for the past seven years, has been an active member of many local gay and civic organizations.

“Ray is definitely the right pick to prosecute this case,” said Mel Armstrong, a local gay activist. “You couldn’t find a man with more integrity. He’s a smart, sensitive attorney who understands the complexities of being gay in America. Having that knowledge will be extremely important in prosecuting this case.”

Antonio sat down on the edge of the bed. “You okay with this?”

A graphic artist with warm coffee-brown skin, he had thick, curly hair and was both taller and thicker than Martinez. Though he was Puerto Rican, Antonio was often mistaken for African-American.

“It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming.” Martinez tossed the paper aside. “I haven’t exactly been in the closet. Many of my coworkers know that I’m gay.”

“The operative word being
many
, not
all
. For the majority of the people you work with, it would never cross their mind that you might be gay. So some people are definitely going to be surprised.”

“I can handle it. The question is, can you?”

Except for a younger sister, Antonio had no communication with his family. They were deeply religious and refused to accept what they called his “alternative lifestyle.” Martinez’s mother made up for the rejection by treating Antonio like one of her own.

“I’ll be fine,” Antonio assured him. “I just want
you
to be careful. There are still a lot of people out there who think we should all be burned at the stake. As a matter of fact, you’re prosecuting one of them right now.”

Martinez laughed.

“When you get to work,” Antonio warned, “you’re going to find that some of the people who were fine with you yesterday won’t be today.”

“I’m cool,” Martinez said. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

Antonio embraced him affectionately. “Just be careful.”

Martinez arrived at the office ninety minutes later. He was surprised when a tremor of nervousness hit him as he exited the elevator in the Criminal Courts building. Maybe having his sexual orientation displayed to the world wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.

“Nice story,” his secretary said, when he passed her desk.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Connie.”

Martinez placed his briefcase on his desk and made his way to the men’s room. He stepped up to one of the urinals just as the door opened. John Marshall, another Deputy D.A., walked in.

Martinez glanced over his shoulder at his coworker. “What’s up?”

Marshall stopped in his tracks. “Uh . . . Hey, I . . . I . . . uh . . . I just remembered a call I need to make.” He turned around and dashed out.

Martinez shook his head. He never would have pegged John as a homophobe. They had been standing side by side at these urinals on a daily basis for the last three years. But now, that would never happen again.

Chuckling to himself, Martinez bent over the sink to wash his hands. He couldn’t wait to get home to share this incident with Antonio. Straight men always acted as if every gay guy who crossed their path wanted to screw them. There’s no way Martinez would have ever given the time of day to a fat, out-of-shape slob like John.

“Only in your dreams,” Martinez muttered as he headed back to his office. “Only in your friggin’ dreams.”

S
itting at her desk, Vernetta tried to psyche herself up for Special’s bail revocation hearing. There was no way they’d be able to spring her from jail. They would just be going through the motions.

Special now faced the possibility of multiple murder charges, though it was a good sign that Martinez had not actually filed any additional counts against her. That was basically an admission that he didn’t have the evidence. Yet.

Vernetta had always believed lawyers should not represent people close to them. When an attorney is too emotionally involved in a case, objectivity can be compromised. But she could not see trusting her best friend’s defense to anyone else. She would get it together. She had to.

Nichelle walked in and took a seat. “So are we ready?”

“As ready as we’re going to be.” The hearing was scheduled for later that afternoon.

“Have you given any thought to what I said?”

Nichelle had been pestering Vernetta to make up with Sam. Vernetta hated admitting that she needed his help. Despite the hassle he would be, she had to swallow her pride and do what was best for Special.

“I’ll call him after the hearing.”

“Good.” Nichelle looked relieved. “And if you don’t, I will.”

They had read nearly two dozen cases and stayed up late the night before rehearsing their legal arguments. Nichelle played the role of prosecutor, throwing curve balls at her and seeing if she could hit them. At the end of the night, Vernetta knew they were only fooling themselves. Even though all the evidence against Special was circumstantial, there was no way the judge was going to let her back out on bail.

“Too bad we don’t know anybody who can slip the judge some cash to let her out,” Nichelle joked.

“That’s wishful thinking. And even if we could, neither one of us would ever do anything like that.”

“That’s our problem,” Nichelle said. She turned to look out of the window. “We always play by the rules, but the bad guys have no problem pulling whatever dirty trick it takes to win. By the way, are you still on good terms with O’Reilly?”

“We’re not nearly as close as we used to be, but we’re still more than cordial.” Just a couple of days ago O’Reilly had recommended Vernetta to a company in need of help with an employment case that wasn’t big enough for O’Reilly & Finney to handle. “I think he’s being nice to me so I won’t blab that he’s screwing Haley.”

“Can’t he do anything to help us?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. He’s one of the most connected attorneys in this city. He must know people who know people who know the judge.”

“As a matter of fact, O’Reilly is a pretty close friend of Judge Winston. I think their fathers were law school classmates or something.”

“You should give him a call,” Nichelle urged.

“And ask him to do what? Bribe the judge?”

“I don’t know.” Nichelle’s face turned sullen. “I guess I’m just thinking out loud. I know Special’s innocent, but I’m not sure we can prove it. If she has to go to prison for killing Eugene or anybody else, you might as well lock me up in the same cell because I won’t be able to handle it.”

Vernetta was about to tell her she felt the same way, but kept that thought to herself. They had to be optimistic. No matter what.

This conversation reminded Vernetta that there
was
something O’Reilly could do to help Special. She picked up the phone.

“Who’re you calling?”

“O’Reilly.”

Nichelle’s eyes widened.

When O’Reilly came on the line, he greeted Vernetta like the old mentor who adored her. “Hey, kiddo. You’re all over the TV lately. You’ve got yourself a pretty big case. I’m jealous.”

Sure you are.
“I’m calling to ask for a favor.” Vernetta could almost hear him tense up over the telephone. “We have a bail revocation hearing before Judge Winston later this afternoon. I know that you know him pretty well.”

“I’m afraid I have to stop you right here,” O’Reilly said. “I hope you’re not about to ask me to use my influence with the judge to—”

“No,” Vernetta said, cutting him off. “That would be both illegal and unethical. I was about to say that I don’t think Judge Winston’s going to let her out on bail. And since I also know you’re pretty good friends with Sheriff Robinson, I was wondering if you could ask the sheriff to have somebody look out for Special in jail. Make sure she’s safe.”

“I think I can make that happen.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“Did you hear that Haley left the firm?”

“Really?” Actually, Vernetta had learned from Sheila that the pair had become more and more brazen with their affair. The rumors finally made their way to the management committee. Obviously one of them had to leave and it certainly wasn’t going to be the rainmaker.

“Her father’s ill, so she needs a job that’s not so demanding of her time. She’s been offered an in-house position with Vista Electronics. It’s a big loss for the firm.”

And your gain
. Now they were free to carry on their affair without violating any firm rules.

“That’s wonderful for Haley,” Vernetta said. “She’ll do great in-house. Knowing her, she’ll be general counsel in no time.”

V
ernetta was not prepared for what she saw when a sheriff’s deputy brought Special into one of the attorney-client meeting rooms at the jail.

She had chains around her waist and wrists and was wearing an oversized orange jumpsuit. Her skin had paled and there were dark circles under her eyes. Her sunken cheeks made her look like something out of a horror movie.

Nichelle quietly gasped. J.C. looked down at the floor.

“Hey, y’all,” was all Special could manage to mumble.

Just as Vernetta reached out to touch her, a deputy poked his head into the room. “No contact with the inmates,” he growled.

The room wasn’t much bigger than a broom closet and had peeling paint and a tiny, metal table. A claustrophobic’s nightmare. There was a long row of identical client meeting rooms which had front and side walls made of glass. A deputy strolled the corridor, monitoring everything going on inside.

“I asked a couple of the deputies to look out for you,” J.C. said. “Have they?”

Special raised, then lowered her shoulders, causing the chains to rattle. “I guess so. Nobody’s forced me to join a female gang yet.” She laughed, but her three friends didn’t join her.

J.C. ignored the deputy’s warning and gave Special’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “I’ll leave so you guys can talk shop.”

Vernetta started to reach for Special’s hand, then remembered that she couldn’t. “We’re going to do everything we can to get you out of here.”

“Okay.” Special had yet to look her in the eyes and Vernetta could tell that she didn’t believe her.

“The bail revocation hearing is going to start in just a little while,” Nichelle explained. “It’s going to be an uphill battle.”

The hearing was only a formality. There was no way Special would be released since she violated the conditions of her bail. Another murder happening just an arm’s throw from her apartment further complicated things. But neither Nichelle nor Vernetta could bring themselves to tell Special the truth.

Special looked at Nichelle, then turned to Vernetta. “I know I won’t get out,” she said with a frail smile. “Anyway, it’s not so bad. Orange is a good color for me.”

Again, nobody laughed.

“Special,” Vernetta said, “when they bring you in, I want you to follow our lead. Don’t say anything unless we tell you to.”

She nodded.

O’Reilly had called back and reported that the sheriff promised to make sure Special was well treated behind bars. With his pull and J.C.’s, Vernetta felt Special was as safe as she could be under the circumstances.

“Is there anything you need us to handle?” Nichelle asked. “Do you have any bills you need us to take care of?”

That question generated a genuine chuckle. “Be careful what you offer. I’ve got a mountain of unpaid bills and no money to pay ’em. At least the bill collectors can’t hassle me up in here.”

“Do you want us to bring you anything?” Vernetta wasn’t sure what she was allowed to have in jail, but maybe they could bend the rules a bit where that was concerned.

“Can you drop by and check on my parents and make sure they’re okay? All this trouble I’m in is killing them. And please talk them out of coming down here again. I hate having them see me like this. They came earlier today and my mother cried the whole time.”

“Anything else?” Vernetta asked.

“Yeah. Reverend Sims gave me some Bible verses to read. I left them on the nightstand in my bedroom. Could you bring them over along with my Bible?” She repositioned herself in the chair, which caused the chains to rattle. “I need them really, really bad.”

A
s they stood facing the judge, Vernetta could sense the inevitable with every syllable uttered from Martinez’s lips.

“Your Honor, The People strongly urge the court to revoke the defendant’s bail. She violated the court’s restrictions by going outside the three-mile radius that you imposed. The charge at issue here is an extremely vicious murder.”

He picked up his legal pad from the table.

“We have irrefutable evidence that the defendant stalked and assaulted Eugene Nelson. Her fingerprints were found on the windowsill where the crime scene investigators believe the killer entered his home, and there is strong circumstantial evidence linking her to the murder of several other men who—”

Vernetta jumped to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor!” Her voice was much too loud. She mentally chastised herself, then proceeded. “My client has only been charged with
one
murder. We’re here to address bail associated with that case and only that case.”