Personal Justice (22 page)

There were a few moments of breathless silence as Lisa’s heart beat in anticipation. Then she donned her best smile as the security chain rattled.

“Get ready, Don,” she said through her smile.

Don was poised and so was she. The door swung open a few inches, revealed a frowning face, and Lisa was ready. “Mr. Shaft, I’m sorry you were attacked. It was a senseless and cowardly thing to do, and I was deeply disturbed to hear about it.”

The frown on Shaft’s face lessened at her words. He held a hand over his side and bowed slightly forward as if to lessen the discomfort. Lisa could see the bulky bandage under his thin shirt.

“May I talk with you for a few moments?” Lisa asked, her fake smile spread wide.

Another hesitation, then the door opened all the way and Shaft stepped onto the front porch. He turned to face Lisa. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

The camera was recording, the mike was on, and Lisa spoke. “I hope you’re not in a lot of pain, Mr. Shaft?”

“It’s not so bad, but I find it hard to move around much.”

“Did you know your attacker?”

“He said he was Michael Norton’s cousin.”

“Is he blaming you for Norton’s murder?” Lisa asked.

Shaft glared at Lisa, an accusing look on his face. “He saw your newscast.”

“I’m sorry he misconstrued my story. I assure you, I didn’t intend this to happen.”

A brief look of doubt crossed Shaft’s face, then, “My brother and one of his acquaintances was murdered. You should be looking elsewhere for the killer.”

Lisa wanted to be careful, not yet ready to make her accusations. She cocked her head, tried to look puzzled, and said, “There’s a lot of evidence pointing toward you, Mr. Shaft. How do you respond to that?”

Shaft frowned again, a hint of anger. “What evidence?”

“There’s probably nothing to it,” Lisa said soothingly. “But your threat to kill Michael Norton might be seen by some as evidence of your involvement.”

“I was angry,” Shaft said. “He killed my brother.”

“You have a record of assault. How do you answer that?”

Shaft sighed. “That was a long time ago and had nothing to do with my brother’s murder.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Lisa said, smiling again.

“Of course I’m right.”

It was time to ramp it up. Time for the big question. “Mr. Shaft, my sources have reported a rumor of a robbery you were involved in with your brother and Michael Norton. Can you confirm that story?”

Shaft’s body stiffened at the question. “As far as I know, no such robbery took place.” His face reddened. “My brother was an honorable man and I resent any accusations he was involved in anything criminal.”

“He was in prison.”

Shaft leaned in. “A long time ago.”

Lisa tilted her head. “Do people change, Mr. Shaft?”

He leaned in closer, his nostrils flared, and he raised a fist. “People can change. People do change, and I resent your accusations.”

Lisa moved back half a step. Don moved to one side and trained the camera on Rocky Shaft.

She spoke again, the smile long gone, replaced by a look of disdain. “Did you shoot your brother, frame Michael Norton, and then kill him as well?”

Shaft’s eyes bulged, his face turned crimson, and his raised fist came over and knocked the microphone from Lisa’s hand. It landed on the brick sidewalk with a clunk and rolled to the driveway.

Lisa stepped back against the brick wall of the house. Don leaped onto the front lawn, careful to keep the camera trained on the action.

Shaft moved in closer, his face inches from hers. From ten feet away, the microphone picked up his raised voice. “I want you off my property. Now.”

Lisa didn’t budge. She pushed her nose into the air and glared into his eyes. “Stand back, Mr. Shaft.”

The pain in Shaft’s ribs seemed to be forgotten and he reached up and wrapped both hands around her throat. He squeezed, not too tight, but Lisa found it hard to breathe.

“Get your hands off me,” she managed to say.

He dropped his hands from her neck and grabbed her by the upper arm. “Get out of here,” he said, pointing toward the street with his other hand.

She continued to glare, unmoving.

He tugged at her arm, swung her away from the wall, and pushed her sideways with both hands. She lost her balance, tottered a moment, then tumbled off the edge of the porch and landed in a heap on the grass at Don’s feet.

The cameraman stepped back and kept the camera trained on Shaft as the angry man leaped off the porch and approached him. Don took another step back, then another, moving steadily toward the street while the red light glowed.

Shaft stopped and stood still, his fists clenched at his side.

Lisa scrambled to her feet and moved safely out of the way as Shaft strode back to the house, stepped inside, and slammed the door behind him.

She knew there was a constant threat of danger in being an investigative journalist, especially a world-class one like herself, and she wasn’t averse to receiving the occasional bruise for the sake of the story.

She was relatively unhurt, feeling triumphant as she walked to the van. Things went much better than she could ever have hoped for.

Don shut down the camera, tucked it safely into the back of the vehicle, and helped Lisa climb into the front seat.

He went around to the driver side, hopped in, started the vehicle, and pulled away from the curb as Lisa picked up her cell phone and called the police.

She had to report an assault.

Chapter 42

Thursday, 3:56 p.m.

HANK WAS TAKING a breather in the break room, trying in vain to enjoy a cup of some of the worst coffee ever made, when King poked his head through the doorway.

“Forensic report on Norton is in. You might want to see this. Some interesting stuff.”

Hank jumped up, dumped the last half of the foul liquid in the sink, and went to his desk to join King.

He sat down, pulled up his chair, slid his copy of the report toward him, and flipped it open. “What’s so interesting?”

“Second page,” King said, as he leaned back and stretched out his legs. “Near the bottom.”

Hank flipped to page two and scanned the bottom half of the sheet. He sat forward. “They found yellow, nylon rope fibers on both sleeves of Norton’s shirt as well as minor bruising on his wrists, suggesting he might’ve been tied.”

“Which means Nancy was probably right,” King added. “Norton was sitting, maybe tied to a chair, when he was shot.”

Hank looked at King and slapped the desk. “That’s it.”

King looked up from the report. “That’s what?”

“The rope. I saw a yellow, nylon rope in the back of Rocky Shaft’s truck when I went to his house to interview him last night.”

“You searched his truck?”

“Nope. It was in plain sight. I didn’t touch a thing.”

King sat forward and looked intently at Hank. “That might be enough for a warrant,” he said.

“Should be. See what you can do. Get a warrant to seize Shaft’s truck as well as for a search of the house. Make sure you include his lack of an alibi for the time of his brother’s murder as well as for the time of Norton’s murder. And mention the bank withdrawal. I don’t want this to fail for want of evidence.”

King stood and hurried to his desk. Hank knew King would have to fill out some paperwork, but the search warrant should be a cinch and not take long to process.

Hank studied the rest of the report. Nothing else was revealed he didn’t already know or presume.

He looked up when King approached his desk. “Got the paperwork done, but I just got some more interesting news.” King grinned. “Shaft is cooling in a holding cell. He’s been arrested for assaulting Lisa Krunk.”

“Lisa Krunk?” Hank said. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. No damage done. He probably hurt her pride more than anything else.”

Hank laughed. “Lisa and Shaft are two people you don’t want in a room together. That is, unless you want sparks to fly.”

“You can bet Lisa egged him on,” King said.

“I have no doubt about that.”

King shrugged. “She might drop the charges. Knowing Lisa, she’ll make a deal with him. She has it all on video, and I doubt if he’ll be able to worm out of this one.” He turned. “I’d better go,” he said, and strode toward the door.

Hank had a choice to make. Now that Shaft was in custody, he was free to question him as much as he wanted—that is, unless Shaft asked for a lawyer. Or he could wait until the search of Shaft’s truck was complete. Then he might have the heavy guns he needed to get a confession.

Half an hour later, King was back. A willing judge had signed the order and the search would commence immediately. King had given the investigators instructions to make an inspection of the truck their first priority and report back to him ASAP.

“Let’s talk to Shaft,” Hank said. “If CSI finds what I think they’re going to, it won’t take them long.”

Hank had Shaft brought up to the interview room. He gathered up the folders from his desk and he and King went down the hall and entered the room.

Rocky Shaft scowled and glared up at Hank. “This is a load of crap,” he said. “That woman pushed me too far.”

“From what I understand, you’re the one who did the pushing,” Hank said, as he took a seat and dropped the folders on the metal table.

“Sure I did. But she’s not hurt in the least. Maybe her pride, but I’m the victim here.” Shaft leaned back, folded his arms, and shook his head in frustration. “Maybe you should arrest her.”

“How are you a victim?” King asked, leaning in.

“She accused me of killing my brother.”

“Did you?”

Shaft gave King a black look then glared at Hank. “I can sue her for slander.”

Hank shrugged. “That’s up to you, but we can’t arrest her for that. It’s a civil matter and you’ll have to work that out with your lawyer.”

“I don’t need a lawyer.” He spoke in a loud voice, the extra effort causing him to hold his side and grimace. He was obviously in some discomfort.

“You might need a lawyer after this,” Hank said. “If the crown pursues assault charges, they can do so without Lisa’s approval.”

“It’s all bogus,” Shaft said. He leaned forward and spoke in a calmer voice. “Can’t you see that?”

“Maybe it is,” King said. “But murder isn’t.” He paused as his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and grinned. “I’ll be right back.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

Hank leafed through the folders as Shaft watched him curiously. Finally, the suspect spoke. “What’s in those folders you keep looking at?”

“Evidence,” Hank said.

“What kind of evidence?”

Hank didn’t answer. He continued to study the papers as he waited for King.

Finally, the door opened and King stepped in. Hank saw the good news on the detective’s face as he took a seat beside Hank, leaned forward, and placed his arms on the desk.

“Can you tell me how Michael Norton’s blood got into the back of your truck?” King asked.

Shaft looked bewildered and he stared at King. “What’re you talking about?”

King leaned in and pointed a finger at the suspect. “You murdered Michael Norton, dragged him to a spot by the railroad tracks, and dumped him there.”

“And we have the rope,” Hank said, and looked at King. King nodded and Hank continued, “You tied him up and killed him. We found the rope in the back of your truck along with traces of Norton’s blood.”

Shaft narrowed his eyes. “What right have you to search my truck? You’re making this all up.”

“I’m afraid not,” King said. “We got a warrant to seize your truck and search the house.”

Hank picked up a sheet of paper from the folder. “You made a withdrawal for six thousand dollars cash from your bank account on Tuesday morning. We know the money was to pay off the hitman.”

“You’re both crazy,” Shaft said. “I didn’t hire a hitman and you can’t prove otherwise.”

“What was the money for then?” King asked.

Shaft sat back, folded his arms, then winced and held his ribs. “It was to pay off a gambling debt.”

“Can you prove that? Who’d you pay off?”

“My bookie. And no, I can’t prove it.”

“And you have no alibi for the time of either murder,” Hank added.

“I told you where I was before.”

“Yes, you did. When your brother was murdered you were home alone. And when Norton was murdered you claimed to be at a restaurant. We checked. Nobody remembers you there.”

Shaft’s eyes flared and he slammed a fist on the table. Then he closed his eyes a moment, took a deep breath, and spoke quietly. “I think I need a lawyer now.”

Chapter 43

Thursday, 7:20 p.m.

JAKE FINISHED WIPING down the Firebird, pulled it into the garage, and shut the overhead door. He didn’t like to leave his baby outside overnight; you never know what the weather would be like.

He went through the door into the kitchen and found Annie at the table helping Matty with his homework. They were working on some math problems, and Annie was showing him how to figure out the answer without the aid of a calculator.

“I’m exercising my brain,” Matty said. “Mom says it’s important, and I guess she’s right. It’s a lot harder, though.”

“Your mother’s right,” Jake said.

Matty yawned and faked a pout. “Are we done yet?”

“Just a few more,” his mother said.

“How many’s a few?”

Annie laughed. “Do three more. If you get them right then you can watch TV.”

Matty sighed, his shoulders slumping, and chewed on the end of a pencil as he attacked the next problem.

The doorbell rang and Jake went to the door. It was Hank. “I’m on my way home,” the cop said. “Thought I would drop by and see what’s going on with you two.”

“Annie and Matty are in the kitchen. Come on in,” Jake said.

Hank followed Jake in, greeted Annie, and gave Matty a fist bump. “What’re you working on there?”