The Advocate - 02 - The Advocate's Betrayal (8 page)

“I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”

She wondered about the surprise. Luke had a very romantic side, although he didn’t show it every day. When he decided to do something, he always made it special.

Sabre arrived at her apartment, parked in the stall, and hurried inside to change her clothes. She briefly considered wearing nothing but her raincoat, but the thought of what she’d do in an accident or some emergency changed her mind.

She took off her uncomfortable high heels and her dark blue Ann Taylor suit—not her most expensive suit, but one that fit well. Her silk blouse cost almost as much as the suit. She wouldn’t have any of it if Bob, her personal male shopper—or PMS as she called him—hadn’t gone with her on a shopping spree. Sabre, unlike most of her friends, didn’t understand the art of shopping or enjoy it, so when she did make the effort, she bought as much as she could. When Bob had joined her at Nordstrom’s and picked out the clothes for her to try on, it proved to be the most fun she ever had shopping.

She picked out a casual pink top to put over jeans and sandals, hoping that Luke didn’t have anything fancy planned, and headed out the door. As she drove to Luke’s apartment, her mind began to focus on Betty again. She knew Betty was innocent. She just had to prove it. She would receive the police report on Monday for the scheduled arraignment on Tuesday. Meanwhile, JP was already investigating. She hoped he’d find an argument for bail by Tuesday. Sabre was still thinking about Betty when she started looking for a parking spot on the street near Luke’s apartment. She didn’t like going there because the parking was so limited. Luke lived near Qualcomm Stadium in a complex that housed a lot of college students. The tenants had parking, but management only designated about twenty guest parking spots for two hundred plus units. After driving around the block three times without finding a space, Sabre called Luke.

“I can’t find a parking spot,” Sabre said without any of the pleasantries when Luke answered.

“I’m sorry, baby, I forgot to tell you to call me when you got here. I found out today that since I have a two-bedroom apartment, I’m entitled to two parking spots. They’re end to end, so one car has to be parked in front of the other, but that’s okay. You can park behind my roadster; you’ll be leaving before me. Or maybe I’ll make you park in front of me so you can’t leave at all.”

Sabre drove into the complex. Luke lived at the far end, so he had time to walk downstairs before she got there. He must’ve run down, though, because he met her just after she passed the first of three buildings. There he stood in the middle of the road, her tall, handsome, dark-haired man in ironed shorts and a t-shirt, waiting for her. Although he dressed casually most of the time, Luke was very particular about the way he dressed and how his hair looked. He took pride in his personal appearance.

“Hi, babe.” He walked up to the car and gave her a quick kiss.

“Hi.” She smiled, feeling her stomach giggle. She loved the feelings he aroused in her. “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere and everywhere,” he teased, “but you may put your car right there behind mine.” He pointed to an empty space on the left about thirty feet away.

It had been awhile since Sabre had been in a relationship, and she soaked up the flirting and all that went with it. After parking her car, she met Luke at its rear. He put his arm around her and pulled her into him. “So, how was your day?”

“Not so great. I went to see Betty in Las Colinas this afternoon. It was really hard seeing her locked up in there. She’s being strong, but I know she’s scared to death. I just hope I can get her released soon.”

“I’m sorry. It must’ve been awful seeing her like that. But I tell you what. I’m going to make you forget all about the outside world. Tonight, it’s just you and me.” He looked into her eyes, smiled, and squeezed her a little tighter.

Luke opened the door to his apartment. Only one dim lamp lit the room. The dining table contained two place settings, two candles flickering, and flowers in the center. Two other candles burned on the coffee table.

“Wow, Luke, this is really sweet.” Sabre leaned backward into him, melting into his chest. He put his arms around her, pulling her even closer. She turned around and reached up, putting her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to meet her lips with a kiss.

“Hey, hey…. Wait ‘til you see what else is in store for you. Come with me.” He led her to the bathroom. Four more candles burned next to a full tub with bubbles. The aroma from the bath salts smelled clean, but not sweet, just the way she liked it.

“This is incredible. Is the tub for me or for us?” she teased.

“The tub is for you. I knew it was going to be a hard day because of Betty. So you just relax in the tub while I finish dinner.”

“You can cook?”

“Of course I can cook. I love to cook, especially for someone special.”

“You’re amazing, you know,” she said, as she turned and gazed into his eyes.

He put his hands on each side of her head and pulled her mouth close to his, kissing her gently, yet passionately. Then he let go and smacked her lightly on her butt. “There’s a clean shirt on the back of the door you may use if you’d like. Relax and enjoy; I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Sabre watched him as he left the room, blown away that someone would pamper her like this. It was every woman’s fantasy. She was tempted to go to him just to be with him.

Once he was out of sight she turned toward the tub with all its bubbles. It smelled clean and light, like melon or sweet peas. She peeled off her shirt.

9

Monday morning news in the paper was mostly about crimes committed both locally and nationally and the country’s poor economy. Sabre had stopped receiving the paper for that very reason. It was only recently she started it up again. Robberies, bankruptcies, foreclosures—it was all depressing. She was about to lay the paper down when a picture of a nineteen-year-old young man caught her attention. He was found beaten to death and left on a hillside in Perris, California with the word “FAG” scrawled in the blood and dirt alongside his body, an obvious victim of a hate crime. The authorities seemed to think he was beaten and then dragged behind a pickup across rocks and brush, tearing off most of his skin. A pickup was reported leaving the scene near the north end of Perris, but no license number was obtained.

Sabre felt disgusted. It was crimes like this that made her consider working as a prosecutor But she knew her heart wouldn’t be in most of it. She was working where she fit best. She tossed the paper on the top of a packed cardboard box and left for juvenile court.

After they finished their morning calendar, Bob and Sabre drove to the DA’s office to pick up the police report on John’s murder. Sabre read through the report, frowning and shaking her head as she read.

“What do they have on her?” Bob asked.

“The murder weapon has her fingerprints on it. It says she used a kitchen knife and left it in the sink. I didn’t see a bloody knife when I was at her home.”

Bob looked over Sabre’s shoulder and read from the report. “It says the knife was found in the sink, but it had been rinsed off.”

“That’s strange.”

“Yeah, she rinsed it off, but she didn’t wipe off the fingerprints. Why would someone do that?”

“I know. That doesn’t work for me, either. And why would she just leave it in the sink?” Sabre paused. “Wait a minute. When I went inside to get some clothes for Betty, I saw the police officer put a knife inside an evidence bag. That must have been the murder weapon.”

“That’s another thing that doesn’t make sense. If you’re going to clean up a kitchen knife that you just used to kill your husband, and you’re not going to get rid of it, why wouldn’t you put it away with the other knives? Why would you leave it in the sink separated from the others so it stands out?”

“That might be enough to get her ‘murder two’ or ‘manslaughter,’ but it won’t get her off the hook. It might take some of the sting out of pre-meditation,” Sabre said as she shuffled through the pages looking for the coroner’s report.

“What are you looking for?” Bob asked.

“I want to see what they say is the time of death. Ahh…here it is. They say John died between six forty-five p.m. and twelve twenty-one a.m.”

“What time was she with you?”

“She arrived at the casino a little after seven o’clock and she left about ten thirty.”

“So, conceivably, she could’ve killed him before she left or after she returned.”

“Yup.”

“I don’t know. It still doesn’t work for me.” Bob cocked his head to the side and put his index finger to his mouth and mimicked, “Hmm…I guess I’ll kill my husband and then go to the casino, play a few slots, and hang out with my friends. Then I’ll come home, crawl in bed with the bloody bloke, and take a little nap before I call my friends to let them know. Oh, and while I’m at it, I think I’ll wipe the blood off the knife and leave it in the sink for someone to find.”

“Okay, that doesn’t make much sense, but what if it happened after she got home?” Sabre tried to think like the prosecutor.

“That might be a little tougher, but let’s think about that. What time did she leave the casino?”

“Well, we were still inside the casino at ten-thirty and she said she was leaving shortly.”

“How long a drive is it to her house?”

“Not that long, maybe fifteen minutes. She lives on the east end of El Cajon.”

“So, even if she left right away, she would’ve had to walk to her car and drive home. That would’ve put her there not much before eleven, even if she hurried.”

“That’s right, and it would’ve been at least ten thirty-five p.m. before she left, because we talked for a few minutes after I checked the time. We offered to walk her to her car when we left, but she said she was staying a little longer.”

“So, it must’ve been at least eleven p.m. before she got home and probably even longer.”

“That’s true.” Sabre wrinkled her forehead. “That still gives her an hour and twenty-one minutes to kill him. What’s your point?”

“I’m just trying to see if the time works. Do they think she decided to go gambling and then come home, walk in, and stab her husband because he snored too loud?”

“Who knows what they think at this juncture, but you have a point. She couldn’t have killed him if he were awake. She’s a little, bitty thing and he’s a good size man…and strong. He weighs about one hundred and eighty pounds. He’s nearly six foot tall and he’s pretty muscular.” Sabre realized mid-sentence she was speaking as though he were still alive and changed her verb tense. “There’s no indication of a fight. He would’ve had to have been sleeping and she would’ve had to get him on the first stab. What are the chances of that?”

“Not likely, but you’re right. He would’ve had to have been sleeping. So, she had a maximum of eighty-one minutes to have an argument with him, wait for him to go to bed, and then kill him while he was asleep. And that’s pushing the envelope of the time frame for his death.”

“Can’t they pinpoint the time of death more closely?”

“I think they can. We’ll have to ask JP. He’ll be able to clear some of this up for us, tell us how realistic it is.”

“Perhaps Betty can shed some light on it, too. I’ll go see her after we talk to JP. He’s meeting us for lunch. We better get moving.”

When they arrived at Pho’s Vietnamese restaurant in the strip mall across from Kearny High, JP was there waiting for them.

“I’m glad you could join us for lunch,” Bob said.

“Yeah, me too,” JP said, as he picked up his file from his trunk and followed them into the restaurant. “I’ve never eaten here. How’s the food?”

“Good,” Bob said.

“Bob says it’s good, but he really only knows number ‘one-twenty-four’ is good because he’s never tried anything else. But, yes, the food is good,” Sabre said as they walked in. Directly in front of the door sat a three-foot tall, gold-colored statue of a Buddha surrounded by fake yellow and white flowers and gifts of food. Sabre stopped for a second to admire the bright gold fish swimming in the aquarium just below the Buddha shrine before catching up to the guys. Once inside the main dining area they were seated at their usual table. In one corner of the rather long room was a karaoke machine playing American songs sung with heavy Asian accents.

“JP, have you seen the police report?” Sabre asked, always getting right to the point.

Before he could answer, Bob said, “Can we order before we start talking business?”

JP said, “Yeah, let’s get some vittles into that cowgirl.”

“Or we could just eat,” Bob said. Sabre laughed.

“So, what’s the ‘one-twenty-four’?” JP asked.

“It’s rice noodles with pork,” Bob answered.

“Sounds good to me. That’s what I’ll have. This menu’s too long to read.”

Their favorite waiter, a young, witty man, came to the table. “Hi, Binh,” Bob and Sabre said at almost the same time.

“Hi, what you like to drink today?” he asked, carefully enunciating each word.

“JP?” Bob asked.

“Iced tea would be good.”

“Just water for us,” Bob said.

“Fine then, one iced tea and two Vietnamese Seven-Ups,” Binh said with a little smirk. “And Mr. Bob, you want number one-twenty-four, and you ma’am, what you like today?”

“I’ll have a one-forty, spicy, please,” Sabre said.

“And you, sir?” Binh asked turning to JP.

“I’ll have a one-twenty-four also.”

“You just like Mr. Bob. I so sorry.” Binh picked up the menus. “Rice paper rolls today?”

“Yes, please bring us two orders; we’ll split them,” Bob said.

“I didn’t ask you, Mr. Bob.” Binh winked at Sabre. Then nodding his head toward Bob, he said, “He think I care what he want.” Binh tipped his head downward in a slight bow and stepped backward one step before turning. “Thank you. I be right back.”

“Why is it he always remembers your name and not mine?” Sabre asked as the waiter walked away. Sabre and Bob ate at Pho’s about three times a week and Binh always tried to work their table.

“Because I’m more memorable,” Bob retorted.