Private Vegas (30 page)

“I meant, I don’t know what this new testimony is about.”

“Well, that’s the nature of news breaking over the weekend, isn’t it, Mr. Lewis? I guess we’re all going to find out at the same time. Please sit down. Bailiff, please bring in the jury.”

I WATCHED SUTTER come up the aisle. Last time he took the stand, I thought what a regular guy he was, how credible, what freaking bad luck for Del Rio that the UPS man with the disappearing hair and the sunburned nose was going to testify against him.

Now, Sutter looked like bad shit had happened.

Both of his eyes were blackened, his nose was swollen and bandaged, and his right arm was in a cast and a sling. He was sworn in, then he took his seat. He saw me and gave me a hard look.

I reflexively massaged the bruised knuckles of my right hand.

My brother sat in the row in front of me with his right leg crossed over his left knee. He was jiggling his foot nervously, and he wasn’t smirking. Not today.

Caine approached the witness.

“Mr. Sutter, on the night of June fourteenth, did you see Mr. Del Rio at Vicky Carmody’s house?”

“Yes.”

“Please describe the circumstances.”

“He was coming to see Vicky.”

“And you knew that Ms. Carmody was expecting him, is that right?”

“Yes. Vicky had told me that Del Rio was coming over to return her camera.”

“Did you mention this date to someone else?”

“Yes.”

“And whom did you tell?”

“I refuse to answer on the grounds that an attempt has been made on my life and if I say who hired me, I will be erased.”

“Okay, Mr. Sutter. We’ll get back to that question later. Did you see Mr. Del Rio go into Ms. Carmody’s house?”

“Yes, like I said the last time, I was across the street making a pickup. I saw Del Rio go in, and I saw Vicky close the door.”

Caine asked, “And did you see Mr. Del Rio leave Ms. Carmody’s house?”

“Yes. About fifteen or twenty minutes later.”

“Then what happened?”

“After Del Rio left, I rang Vicky’s doorbell and she opened the door. I told her I was just making sure she was okay, and she said she was fine. I pushed her in, went inside with her, and locked the door.”

Sutter looked into space, touched his nose. Seemed lost in thought.

Caine said, “You went inside the house with Ms. Carmody. What happened after that, Mr. Sutter?”

Sutter came back to the moment.

“I beat her until I thought she was dead.”

The crowd in the gallery gasped as if it had taken a collective gut punch. The gasp was loud. It echoed.

The jury, too, looked severely shocked.

Caine paused to let Sutter’s testimony sink in. He did a half turn, looked at the jury, then turned back to Sutter. He said, “Why did you brutally assault Ms. Carmody?”

Sutter said, “Look, I didn’t do it for fun. I did it because I was between a rock and another rock. I was in debt to some sharks who were threatening my family. There’s a guy I knew from rehab who has a hate-on for Del Rio.

“We talked about Del Rio sometimes. So, anyway, I told him Del Rio was back in Vicky’s life, and he made me an offer. He said it right out. He would pay off my debt if I killed Vicky and made it look like Del Rio did it.”

Caine said, “And you agreed.”

“I had to. I snorted a little coke to get me going. Then I beat the crap out of her. My debt went away.”

“And so I’ll ask you again, Mr. Sutter. Who paid you to kill Vicky Carmody?”

“Look. I’m testifying to show good faith. But, on the advice of counsel, I refuse to name the guy who hired me until my family is in witness protection and I’ve got a deal. In writing. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

I WATCHED AS Caine turned the witness over to assistant district attorney Dexter Lewis, who sneered for the jury’s benefit. Then he walked over to the witness stand, kept one hand on his hip, his body language saying,
This witness is full of crap.

Sutter cradled his bad arm. Looked to me like he was bracing himself for a grilling.

Lewis said, “That’s an interesting story, Mr. Sutter. So, if I understand you, you lied when you testified last week saying you didn’t see Mr. Del Rio leave Vicky’s house. Is that right?”

“Yeah, obviously. I lied.”

“And so now the court is supposed to believe you when you say Mr. Del Rio didn’t assault Ms. Carmody, that you did it. How do we know Mr. Del Rio didn’t pay you to say this?”

“Why would I confess to assaulting Vicky if I didn’t do it? She could die and I could get nailed for murder. No, I’m trying to get out from under this. My life is in danger. My wife’s life is in danger. My six-year-old girl is in danger too.

“All I’ve got going for the Sutter family is that I know who paid for a hit on Vicky. That’s worth something.”

Lewis shook his head, skeptical. He was flustered, expressing his disbelief not like an attorney but like a man on the street. He said to Sutter, “And so you—what? Went to the cops and turned yourself in?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, that’s what I did.”

Caine stood, said, “Your Honor, Mr. Sutter is already under arrest for the assault on Ms. Carmody. The defense moves that the charges against Mr. Del Rio be dismissed and that he be released immediately.”

“Wait just a
minute,”
Lewis said. “The jury has heard the case. They get to decide if Mr. Del Rio committed the crime, despite Mr. Sutter’s highly suspicious, uncorroborated testimony.”

It was clear that Dexter Lewis was hanging on to whatever was still within his grasp. When he’d woken up this morning, he had a conviction in the bag. Lewis did not want Del Rio to walk, guilty or not.

Judge Johnson said, “As it happens,
I’ve
got some questions, Mr. Sutter. I want to be convinced you were really there. What was Ms. Carmody wearing when you came into her house?”

Sutter said, “Blue-striped shirt, short sleeves, khaki pants, flat shoes. She had a chicken in the oven, and a couple of empty beer bottles were on the kitchen table. All of that can be checked with the cops. Oh, and she was watching
Dr. Phil
.”

“And what did you say and do?”

“Okay. Like I said, I shoved her inside. She said, ‘Brad, what are you doing? What do you want?’ I punched her in the face. She staggered backward, got into the bedroom, tried to close the door. I pushed it in and I hit her again. I had no choice. It was either her or me and my family.”

No one stopped him, so Sutter went on.

“She kept calling out, ‘Don’t do this, Brad. Stop,’ and then she called, ‘Rick.’ Like she wanted him to save her. I picked a lamp up off the table, a blue one, about this big. And I hit her with it. She put up her arm, but I just kept beating her until she didn’t move anymore.”

Sutter was coughing and then crying. No one asked him if he needed a minute. No one offered him a tissue. In a while, he stopped sobbing and said, “You believe me now, Your Honor? I did it. And I want protection from the guy who put me up to it.”

The judge sighed, fixed her headband, clasped her hands in front of her. I thought she looked disgusted, like now, she’d heard everything.

She asked the jury’s indulgence and then had them return to their room. The courtroom buzzed, and the judge called for order, several times.

When she had as much silence as she could reasonably expect, she said, “Mr. Lewis? Based on Mr. Sutter’s testimony, you may have the wrong man on trial. What do you wish to do?”

CAINE AND CRUZ were blocking and I had my hand at Del Rio’s back as we left the courtroom through a mob of people who’d been in the gallery plus the gang of raccoons who had, somehow, already gotten word that Rick was free.

Rick was in a state of shocked disbelief, like he’d been in the tunnel and heading into the light when a voice said, “Case dismissed,” and he was dragged back into life.

In front of the elevator, Cruz turned, grabbed Rick into a hard hug, said, “You’re okay, man. It’s all over.”

I thought about last night, how Cruz and I had followed Sutter from the church on West Boulevard to his house on Hickory Avenue in Torrance, then waited for him to get out of his car.

Then we’d crowded him.

Sutter saw me and yelled, “Stay away from me, Tom.”

I shouted that I wasn’t Tom, that I was his brother and that we needed to talk. I told Sutter that I knew what he’d done to Vicky and that I knew Tommy had paid him.

I told Sutter that I had the means to get into Tommy’s financials at any time, that I’d checked Tommy’s bank account and saw that he’d paid Sutter a hundred thousand dollars the day Del Rio was arrested.

In fact, I had seen the amount of the withdrawal, but not the name of the recipient. Calling Sutter out was a calculated bluff, but I was pretty damned sure that Tommy had paid Sutter to kill Carmody and hang it on Rick.

I told Sutter, “Confess what you did to Vicky Carmody and get Del Rio out of the box. Or else I’ll tell Tommy that you’re going to turn him in.”

Sutter went pale, broke out in an instant sweat. He said, “Don’t do that to me.”

“Sorry,” I said. “It’s your choice.”

Sutter made a practical decision on the spot. He agreed to tell the court what he’d done if I got my friends in high places to give him a deal.

We shook hands, and then Cruz asked Sutter if he wanted a little tune-up before we dropped him off at the precinct so that the cops would have reason to believe he needed protection.

Sutter had said, “Don’t hurt my vital organs. Or my junk.”

We did our best to oblige him.

I’d made my call to DA Bobby Petino, and a deal was in the works. But if Tommy was charged with conspiracy to commit murder, it would still be Sutter’s word against Tommy’s.

And Tommy was slick.

My brother might never spend a day in prison, but for now, all I cared about was that Rick Del Rio was free.

In the courthouse, the elevator doors opened.

My guys and I got inside and Cruz held the button while Caine and I blocked the entrance until the door closed. The ride down was exhilarating because Del Rio was finally coming back to himself, blood flowing into his face, the will to live lighting up his eyes.

He hugged me. He hugged Caine. He kissed Cruz loudly on the cheek. Then he said, “I’m buying you guys dinner anywhere you like, anyplace that will take my Visa card.”

The four of us descended to the ground floor, laughing, enjoying the win for the good guys. We cut through the lobby and went out the front doors to Temple.

I said to Del Rio, “We’ll take my car.”

We never got to the parking lot. Dexter Lewis and the cop who’d been assigned to keep Del Rio under control were jogging down the courthouse steps. Lewis was calling Rick’s name.

“Del Rio. Del
Rio
. I have something for you.”

We stopped, turned. Lewis had a look in his face that could only be called
triumphant.
But what the hell could he possibly feel victorious about?

“I’m pressing charges,” he said to Rick.