State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (38 page)

Stone was still mulling over Manuel
Gonzalez’s confession to yet another killing and sexual assault. In
this one he claimed to have murdered criminal court judge Sheldon
Crawford and sexually assaulted his wife. Maxine Crawford had
validated his confession by picking Gonzalez out of a lineup, in
spite of having previously identified another man as her rapist and
the killer of Judge Crawford. Rafael Santiago’s trial was now
underway.

At least it had been up until this latest
wrinkle in the State’s case against Santiago, Stone thought. He was
en route to the Wilameta County crime lab where the results had
come in on Manuel Gonzalez’s DNA. Everyone involved was holding
their collective breath on this one. No one wanted to believe that
the D.A.’s office had screwed up and put the wrong man on trial.
But then letting the right man off the hook would have been an even
greater injustice.

Personally Stone had his doubts about
Gonzalez’s involvement in this other crime. Yes, he’d seen the
uncanny resemblance between him and Santiago. And both men had the
lizard tattoos and penchant for sexual violence.

Not to mention the crimes occurred the same
night.

But the M.O. was all wrong here.

From his experience, killers did not like to
vary their way of killing people. It had something to do with a
comfort zone.

Gonzalez preferred knifing and strangling his
victims over shooting them. There had been no guns found at the
apartment he and Claudia Sosa shared.

That was not to say it was inconceivable that
he had shot Judge Crawford and tossed the murder weapon. Sometimes
killers proved to be highly unpredictable.

But were that the case, why would Gonzalez go
after the judge and his wife? What possible connection could there
be between the two crimes that night?

Furthermore, Stone had a problem with the
time line. Based on the estimated time of death in both murders, he
had driven the distance from Belle Park to Judge Crawford’s house.
If Manuel Gonzalez had committed the crimes against the judge and
his wife, he would have had to clock it there on mostly county
roads and city streets at about seventy M.P.H. after killing
Adrienne Murray.

Though possible, Stone was not about to bet
the house on it. He couldn’t afford to bet against it either,
considering the gray area between what they knew and didn’t know
about the actual events that took place during the course of a
crime spree, including sometimes under or overestimating the time
frame.

All the speculation could be eliminated if
the DNA tests showed that the semen and hair found at the scene of
the crime could not have belonged to Manuel Gonzalez.

Stone hesitated to think beyond that. He
finished off his coffee, tossed the cup into a plastic trash bag in
the back of the car, and headed outside.

It was a cold, dreary day and Stone could see
his breath as he walked up the steps of the building.

He fully expected things to heat up inside,
one way or the other.

* * *

“The DNA tested positive,” Harold Bledsoe
said dispiritedly to his audience, which included Assistant D.A.’s
Beverly Mendoza and Gail Kennedy and Detectives Stone Palmer and
Joe O’Dell.

“So what are you saying,” O’Dell asked, “that
Manuel Gonzalez did kill the judge and rape his wife?”

The criminalist touched his glasses and
frowned. “I wish it were that simple, but it’s not in this case.
What the tests show is that there is a match between the DNA sample
taken from Manuel Gonzalez and DNA evidence collected from the
crime scene—including semen found on Maxine Crawford’s body.”

Beverly gazed at him contemplatively. “Then
you’re telling us that Manuel Gonzalez and Rafael Santiago are in
fact
identical
twins?”

Bledsoe met her gaze, reading the shock and
irritation in the prosecutor’s eyes. “Yes, it looks that way.”

“Either they are or they aren’t!” Stone added
his two cents. “We need to know that we aren’t going around in
circles here, Doc. If you have any doubts that Gonzalez’s DNA—”

“I don’t, Detective,” Bledsoe assured him.
“The tests have been thrice repeated and the results are the same.
Gonzalez and Santiago have the same DNA, as only identical twins
could. As such, with more definitive DNA studies only in the
preliminary stages, you have two men who could legitimately be your
perpetrator in the crimes against the Crawfords. Particularly the
sexual attack on Maxine Crawford.”

Beverly tried to keep from falling apart at
the revelations that threatened to turn her case against Rafael
Santiago upside down. “We need to find out which man was
really
at the crime scene,” she stressed to the criminalist.
“At this point, both seem to be guilty as sin, but clearly only one
of them was present. If there is any other scientific way to
differentiate between the two...”

Bledsoe rubbed his nose. “There is, in
effect,” he suggested. “Even identical twins have different
phenotypes
—or physical traits such as appearance and
fingerprints. Aside from a confession, it’s up to you to establish
a criminal identification based on such characteristics.” He knew
that this would be an uphill battle, given that the one witness
could not be certain which man assaulted her with the naked eye
alone. He looked at the attorney and offered meekly, “Good luck. I
think you’re going to need it.”

“In this case, I think we’ve pretty much run
out of luck,” Gail remarked bleakly. “What we need now is something
more akin to a miracle to get our man before he worms his way out
of this mess.”

No one was prepared to argue the point.

* * *

Beverly sat grim faced in the conference room
on one side of the table. She had reluctantly agreed not to seek
the death penalty against Manuel Gonzalez should his confession be
accepted. She still believed that Rafael Santiago was guilty of
invading the home of Judge Sheldon Crawford and what followed. But
she went along with this for now under pressure from all sides to
bring this case to a head.

Sitting across from Beverly were Gonzalez,
who seemed to be enjoying this attention, and his attorney, Natalie
Pena. At opposite ends of the table were Stone Palmer and Joe
O’Dell, each with more than a vested interest in the
proceedings.

Two tape recorders sat on the table in play
mode, while a camcorder stood in the corner recording the
interview.

“Will you please state your full name?”
Beverly asked the suspect, as if she hadn’t a clue who he was.

He grinned slyly at his attorney and waited
for to her nod before he looked at Beverly. “Manuel Roberto
Gonzalez,” he said as calmly as she could have expected from an
admitted serial killer.

The memory of having a knife placed at her
throat by this man bothered Beverly more than she cared to
admit.

“You recently confessed to the murder of
Judge Sheldon Crawford.” She looked him in the eye. “Is that
correct?”

“Yeah.” He smirked at her.

“And you also confessed to sexually
assaulting Maxine Crawford, the judge’s wife. Is that right?”

“That’s right,” he said smugly.

Beverly glanced at her notes. “I interviewed
you on December twenty-first of last year,” she said. “At that
time, I asked you pointblank if you had any knowledge or
involvement in those crimes. You denied it. Why are you now saying
you did it?”

Manuel tilted his head and grinned at her. “I
lied then—”

“How do we know you aren’t lying now?”

“Hey, you got the DNA results. What more do
you want?”

“That only told us that you and Rafael
Santiago have more in common than appearance.” Beverly paused
pensively. “Is he your identical twin?”

“You tell me.” Manuel made a face as if
daring her to come across the table and hit him.

She refused to swallow the bait. “How long
have you known you had a twin brother?”

“All my life I guess,” he hissed.

“But you have different
names...nationalities. How could that be?”

Manuel shrugged. “Who knows or cares. Guess
you’ll have to ask my auntie about that.”

They planned to do just that. But Isabel
Santiago could only answer questions about their birth. Not the
misdeeds the identical twins had made a career out of.

Beverly peered at the suspect. “I want to
believe that you are telling the truth in your claims, Manuel, and
not simply playing us all for your own amusement. Oh, and to have
your life spared.”

Manuel grunted. “Guess you’ll just have to
trust me on this one,
Ms
. Assistant District Attorney,” he
told her curtly, “won’t you?”

Beverly kept her cool as she looked around
the table. She knew that the detectives were dubious at best that
this was anything but a total waste of time and money, though the
real perpetrator was still in dispute among all concerned.

For her part, Beverly was skeptical, but not
close-minded, in spite of the still strong circumstantial case
against Rafael Santiago. After all, she was the only one present
who had experienced firsthand the terror of this maniac.

“This is not about trust,” she told the
suspect, a hard edge to her voice. “Your credibility was shot to
hell a long time ago as far as I’m concerned. It’ll be up to you to
convince everyone in this room, with the possible exception of Ms.
Pena, that what you have to say is worth hearing. Otherwise you can
go straight to hell—”

Beverly had not meant to be so forceful,
though the nodding heads of O’Dell and Stone told her she had their
full support.

Natalie Pena was not nearly as accommodating.
“Counselor, badgering my client is not helpful to anyone, least of
all you. I suggest you keep your temper in check if we’re to get
this done.”

Beverly smiled tightly. “Whatever you
say.”

Manuel conferred with his attorney for a
moment or two, as if no one else was in the room. Then he fixed
Beverly with a leer, and said as though there had not been a break
in their direct communication, “Not ready to go to hell yet,
Beverly. Least not till I’m old and senile.”

If she had not known better, Beverly would
have thought his comment was in direct reference to her father. Had
Gonzalez somehow found out about his weakened state of mind?

And where her father was living?

Was he making a threat against her in his own
warped way?

“Truth is,” said Manuel, licking his lips, “I
killed Adrienne Murray ‘cause her old man thought she was having an
affair. He wanted the bitch dead...and her lover...” He gazed
levelly at Beverly. “Judge Crawford—”

Everyone present reacted to this stunning
accusation.

Beverly batted her lashes at him
disdainfully. Her first thought was that it was absurd. Judge
Crawford
and
Adrienne Murray were lovers?

But she knew about Judge Crawford’s sordid
history and reputation as an adulterer. Was it any more
inconceivable that he could have become involved with Adrienne
Murray than his clandestine relationship with and eventual marriage
to Maxine Crawford?

“You don’t really expect us to believe that
the judge and Ms. Murray were having an affair, do you?” Beverly
sneered at Manuel. To her knowledge there was no connection between
the two, other than that they were both murder victims in Eagles
Landing on the same day.

O’Dell drew his brows together menacingly.
“This whole thing sounds like a load of crap—”

“I agree,” Stone said dismissively. He was
sure that this asshole was embellishing his story to try and get
the deal he was after. “But let’s hear what the man has to say.
This should really be interesting.”

Stone scoffed at the notion that Adrienne
Murray was seeing the judge. Though Chuck Murray was obsessed by
the belief that his wife was cheating on him, there had been no
credible evidence of such.

At least not yet.

Manuel grinned. “Hey, I got no reason to make
this up. The judge liked his women young and younger. Like that
bitch he married. He met Adrienne Murray in cheap motels. They both
liked the really kinky stuff—”

“Are you saying you followed them to these
cheap motels?” asked Beverly, her voice betraying disbelief.

“Yeah,” Manuel answered matter-of-factly. “A
couple of times. I was curious—”

Assuming it was plausible that Judge Crawford
was sleeping with Adrienne Murray, Beverly still had trouble
believing Gonzalez had killed the judge. Sounded more like he was
trying to protect his brother. Or had they been in cahoots all
along?

“Why don’t you tell us how you killed Judge
Crawford?” she asked.

Manuel whispered to his attorney, then faced
Beverly. “I shot him.”

“Is that you talking or your lawyer?” Beverly
eyed him suspiciously.

Natalie shot her a nasty look. “My client can
speak for himself. He just wants to make sure he doesn’t say
anything that will only get him in more hot water.”

Stone couldn’t resist saying, “The man’s
confessed to four murders and about as many sexual assaults. No
reason to be too concerned about trying to cover his ass now.” He
knew Gonzalez was trying to avoid the death penalty. Maybe they
could find a way around that, no matter what happened here, so he
would pay the ultimate price for his sins.

Beverly watched as the detective and defense
attorney exchanged glares. She turned back to Gonzalez. “How many
times did you shoot the judge?”

“Three.”

She was not especially surprised that he
answered these questions correctly, since they had been reported
often enough in the paper
. I can’t rule out either that Ms. Pena
could have easily spoon fed the responses to him
.

Beverly wanted to see how the man did with
less commonly known details.

“What type of firearm did you use?” she asked
pointedly.