State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (41 page)

Jackie peered at him. “Do you love your
identical twin, Rafael Santiago?”

The question appeared to catch the subject
off guard. After a moment or two, he replied with a sneer, “What
kind of question is that?”

“The kind that needs a yes or no answer!” she
snapped.

“No, I detest him. The bastard got to be with
my auntie, or mother, while I was stuck for years living with
someone else.”

Jackie saw the strain in his face in giving a
longer answer than she wanted. But she let him keep talking to help
the assistant district attorney and detectives in assessing his
state of mind.

“Why are you confessing to crimes attributed
to a man you say you detest?” she asked, again stepping outside her
bounds.

Manuel ran a hand across his face, then
grinned. “Because I don’t want someone else to take credit for what
I did. I’m man enough to admit killing the judge and raping his
woman. Why let Rafael go down for it?”

Jackie considered his response before getting
back to her work. “Did you and Rafael Santiago plan to murder Judge
Sheldon Crawford together—yes or no?”

“No,” Manuel responded stiffly.

She read the chart. “Did your brother ask you
to take the rap for something he did?”

“No!”

“Have you and your brother communicated since
he was arrested?”

“No,” muttered Manuel. “Not at all.”

“Do you hate your mother?”

He grinned slyly. “Yeah...yes, I think I do.
Wouldn’t you if she gave you away and made life hell?”

Jackie supposed she might have had a problem
with that. But then she wasn’t the one being questioned here for
honesty. She ignored the question.

“Had you ever met Maxine Crawford before the
night of October twenty-ninth of last year?”

Manuel gazed at her musingly. “No, never. But
I wish I had.”

I’ll bet
, Jackie sneered. “One last
question: Do you believe there are extraterrestrial beings living
on this planet?”

Manuel cocked a brow and chuckled. “Good one.
No, I don’t. But I believe there are some hot broads living in this
city—like you...”

Jackie felt a chill rip through her. She was
glad there was a guard standing by. The sooner she got away from
this maniac, the better.

* * *

The wait was agonizing for Beverly, as she
imagined it was for the others present. She tried to determine from
the facial expression and body language of Gonzalez and Jackie
which way the test was going. But she was unable to ascertain what
the gestures and body movements meant one way or the other.

After Gonzalez was escorted out of the room
by deputies and back to his cell without any indication of how it
went, Beverly went inside. Natalie Pena was close on her heels.

“Well—?” Beverly hovered over the examiner.
“What’s the scoop?”

“I’d also be interested in knowing how my
client fared,” said Natalie, her timid tone belying her
concern.

Jackie took another look at the graphs, as if
to be sure. “It wasn’t exactly a grand slam as far as polygraph
tests go,” she said. “But in my professional opinion, on the
questions pertaining to Manuel Gonzalez’s claims to have shot Judge
Crawford and the sexual assault of Maxine Crawford, I’d have to say
that Gonzalez is telling the truth...as far as he believes it—”

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

That evening at home Beverly mulled over the
analysis of the polygraph examination and the other aspects of the
case against Manuel Gonzalez.

As far as he believes it...

The thought raced through her mind like a
locomotive. Did that mean Gonzalez could have somehow convinced
himself that he killed Judge Crawford and brutally sexually
assaulted Maxine Crawford, when in fact he really was
not
guilty of these crimes? Sort of like self-hypnosis?

Beverly was sitting on a club chair in the
living room, a glass of wine in hand. The TV was on, but she was
barely aware of it. Jaime had gone to see a movie with Paco,
leaving her all by her lonesome.

No matter what I want to believe, the bottom
line is that as an expert in polygraph exams, Jackie felt Manuel
Gonzalez was truthful in his assertion of committing the crimes
Rafael Santiago was accused of.

Who am I to question it?

She couldn’t prove Santiago was the guilty
party if the tide had swung in Gonzalez’s direction.

Instead Beverly was left to wonder if her
instincts in this case had been all wrong. All she wanted was for
justice to be rendered correctly. Even if it meant having to drop
the charges against Rafael Santiago, who may have been innocent in
spite of his criminal history, which included committing
murder.

One thing that troubled Beverly was that
Gonzalez had apparently failed the polygraph on the question of
whether there had been any communication between him and Santiago,
according to the polygraph examiner. Though Jackie conceded that
the reading was more or less inconclusive, Beverly believed that
there could be a darker explanation. The identical twin brothers
could have conspired in concocting their stories. Or even in
perpetrating their crimes.

Unfortunately I can’t rely on
supposition.
Bottom line, at this point it would be nearly
impossible to get a conviction against Santiago.

Unless some earth shattering revelation
should suddenly fall onto her lap.

The phone rang, giving Beverly a start. She
lifted it off the coffee table and saw that the caller was
Grant.

“Hey, baby—” His voice was cheerful and it
warmed her to hear it.

“Hey back to you.” She tasted the wine,
wishing he were there to share it with her. Instead they had made a
pact to temporarily pause their personal relationship so there
would be no conflict of interest while dealing with the legal
crisis that had just come up.

As soon as the Santiago case was settled one
way or the other, Beverly and Grant agreed that nothing else would
stand in the way of their happiness together.

Not even the continuing investigation into
Judge Crawford’s illicit activities, wherever it may lead.

“So how did the lie detector test go?” Though
the question was casual, Beverly knew that the results would carry
a lot of weight for Grant’s inclination on the guilt or innocence
of Santiago and Gonzalez.

“He passed it,” she said almost sadly, though
only wanting to see to it that the right man was convicted in this
case when all was said and done.

Beverly discussed it with Grant as well the
DNA results. As Conrad Ortega and Natalie Pena had access to all
the same information she didn’t feel it was stepping out of bounds
in talking to the judge about the case.

“I blame Maxine Crawford for this screw up,”
Grant said, conceding that Gonzalez’s confession was probably valid
when coupled with the DNA match. “She positively identified
Santiago as her attacker. You just took the ball and ran with it.
Now some will argue that there may have been a rush to
judgment.”

Beverly curled her lip. She saw Santiago as
possibly wronged. Maybe even singled out based on past history. But
there was no rush to judgment. The pieces fit. Or at least they
had, till Manuel Gonzalez thrust himself into the picture.

“No one could have imagined that Santiago
would have an identical twin,” she found herself defending Maxine.
Or am I defending myself?
“Much less, that the two would
have identical lizard tattoos above their genitals.”

“I suppose,” Grant husked begrudgingly.
“Luckily Gonzalez decided to come clean and back it up before an
innocent man was put away and most likely sentenced to death—”

“Not sure it had much to do with luck,”
Beverly hissed. “It’s not like Gonzalez confessed out of the
goodness of his heart. The man was already in hot water for killing
three people. He had every incentive to tell his story as part of a
plea bargain to spare his life.”

Which was, she considered, still motive
enough for a false yet convincing confession.

Yet there was no denying that the facts,
including Gonzalez’s intimate knowledge of the crimes against the
Crawfords, pointed squarely at the confessed multiple murderer and
rapist.

It still hardly meant that Rafael Santiago
was a reformed man. Or innocent in the true sense of the word.

“You’re right, Bev.” Grant breathed into the
phone. “Why don’t we just let this play itself out in the court and
see what happens.”

Beverly agreed, while hoping for the best and
not the worst, though unsure if she could tell one from the
other.

“I love you, Beverly,” Grant said. “Nothing
will ever change that.”

Like my career being irreparably damaged by
the blunder with the suspects?

Or was he bracing himself for future crises
in the courtroom?

“And I love you, Grant,” Beverly told him,
leaving it and the speculation at that.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Stone entered the brand new massive bookstore
in downtown Eagles Landing. The next time he would bring the entire
family and let everyone go their own way to find something worth
reading.

Stone cruised past several aisles until
coming to one where he found Erica Flanagan on her knees, placing
books on a low shelf. He had tracked her down, hoping she might be
able to help fill in some blanks left open by Manuel Gonzalez’s
confession.

“Detective Palmer...” She smiled faintly at
him, still on her knees as she put a final book into place.

“Hi, Erica.” Stone helped the young woman to
her feet. “Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?”

“You didn’t, not really,” she tried to say
and brushed her hands on the back of jeans. “That doesn’t mean I’m
not surprised to see you.”

He smiled grimly. “I’m surprised to be here
to tell you the truth. Something’s come up—”

She eyed him curiously. “All right. It’s just
about time for my break anyway. Would you like to buy me a cup of
coffee? There’s a coffee shop next door.”

Stone smiled. “You’re on.”

They sat at a table near the window. Stone
updated her on the Adrienne Murray murder investigation.

“I can’t say I’m surprised that Chuck was
involved in Adrienne’s death,” Erica said pensively. “He was
determined that she would
never
leave him alive—”

“Looks like he got his wish,” Stone muttered
sadly.

“Figures he would kill himself. Coward!” She
wrinkled her nose. “That’s just like Chuck to take the easy way
out, rather than own up to what he did.”

“Maybe by committing suicide Murray thought
he was doing the world a favor.”

Stone didn’t really believe a word of that.
Chuck Murray was a gutless, sick bastard. The man was personally
responsible for at least one death and sexual assault; and if
Manuel Gonzalez was to be believed, had also orchestrated the
murder of Judge Sheldon Crawford and was responsible for the brutal
sexual attack of his wife. Stone would have liked to see Murray go
to trial, explain his actions, and let the justice system decide
when and where he died.

“Right!” Erica rolled her eyes dubiously. “At
least the man he hired is in custody. Maybe some justice can still
come out of it.”

“Maybe,” said Stone, while thinking that
there wasn’t enough justice to be dispensed on the Chuck Murrays
and Manuel Gonzalezes out there. He put the coffee cup to his
mouth. “You said before that Adrienne would never have had an
affair. Was that more to protect her reputation or to convince me
that Chuck was out to get her?”

Erica considered this. “I suppose a little of
both,” she admitted.

Stone peered at her. “So are you saying she
did
have an affair?”

“Not that I knew of.” Erica slurped coffee.
“Adrienne was forever looking. She was the flirtatious type. But
there was always Chuck to bring her back down to earth with his
threats and intimidation.”

“Did Adrienne ever mention to you anything
about flirting with a judge?”

“A judge?” asked Erica, as if a foreign
word.

“Yeah.”

She hesitated.

“This is important,” Stone stressed, sensing
she was holding back on him. “Her case hasn’t been closed yet.”

“Never a judge,” Erica insisted. “One time
Adrienne talked about being attracted to a traffic cop who gave her
a ticket along with his phone number. As far as I knew, she never
called him. That’s about the closest she came to knowing a judge
that I’m aware of. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Stone uttered over his coffee.
“I’m not.” For some reason he preferred to believe that Adrienne
had not gotten mixed up with a married judge. Even if her jealous
husband had chosen to believe it.

But he still didn’t rule out that Adrienne
could have had a clandestine affair with Judge Crawford without her
best friend’s knowledge. It happened all the time. Hadn’t he once
read that three-quarters of all married people had at least one
affair during the course of their marriage? Maybe this was one of
them.

Why would Gonzalez have concocted this wild
tale if it weren’t true?

What did he gain other than leniency from the
courts?

“So who is the judge Adrienne’s alleged to
have been involved with?” Erica asked, her lashes flickering as if
not a clue.

Probably better that way. “Maybe no one at
all—” he said, though keeping the book open on this one for
now.

* * *

The Curbside Motel was located in Northwest
Eagles Landing, along a stretch of other cheap accommodations. It
was one of the motels Manuel Gonzalez claimed he had seen Sheldon
Crawford and Adrienne Murray rendezvous at, mused Stone, driving
into the almost empty parking lot.

His shift was over and he should have been on
his way home to Joyce and the kids. Yet here he was working on his
own time, trying to allow the spirit of Adrienne Murray to be put
to rest. If that was even possible, considering the ordeal her
husband and Gonzalez had put her through in life.