“We’re going to have to get into Zack’s murder,” I said.
Bailey nodded. She sat back and folded her arms, her expression sardonic. “Guess this means we’ll be staying on the case.”
She was right, of course. Now that the victim was “somebody,” it was a Special Trials case. I didn’t know whether to rejoice or break something.
26
Eric put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair as I gave him the update on our victim’s identity.
When I’d finished, he sat forward and made a few notes on his legal pad before responding. “I can’t say what Hemet-or, more important, Summers-is going to say about this, but given what you’ve told me, it’s a Special Trials case now. And since you’ve been running with it from the start, it only makes sense for you to keep it.”
I could see he wasn’t sorry about this development. It gave him the right to keep the case in the unit and the chance to back Hemet down. But as much as I liked Eric, I didn’t give a damn about management turf wars. It irked the hell out of me that it’d taken a development like this to let me keep the case. I looked out the window for a moment to stop myself from saying something I truly meant. Maybe that’s exactly why head deputies like Eric had the best, most panoramic, views in the building.
“I know this pisses you off,” he said, reading my mind. “And I understand. But all the same, you are getting what you wished for, aren’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“So just remember what they say about that.”
I sure did. That’s why my motto was Never chase a case. It invariably comes back to bite you. I hadn’t chased this one; it’d fallen into my lap. But the result would be the same if it exploded in my face. And Eric knew as well as I did that if it all went south on me, Hemet would be right there to point an accusing finger.
“And given the connection to Zack Bayer’s murder case, there’s going to be a fair amount of press interest now. So how do the rest of your cases look?” Eric asked.
I shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll leave it to you to manage your schedule. But if you’re underwater, I expect you to be honest with me and let me reassign a couple of your cases.”
I nodded to appear cooperative but knew there was no way in hell I was going to let him give away any of my trials. His phone rang, and I used the distraction to slip out.
Back in my office, I went through my calendar. I had ten pending cases, but I’d been right about the schedule: the month of December was relatively clear. This was no accident: December was a dicey month for jury trials. It was hard to know where a jury’s sense of holiday charity might take them. They might feel sorry for a defendant (bad for the prosecution), or they might feel sorry for the victim (bad for the defense). Given that uncertainty, and lawyers’ own holiday plans, little business got done in December. After that, things would get trickier. Because Special Trials cases were so newsworthy and so serious, it was rare to have cases plead out. So a caseload of ten usually meant ten “go” trials.
“Hey, stranger.” I looked up to see a vision standing in the doorway, looking beautiful, as always, in a black gabardine suit with gold buttons and an off-white silk blouse.
“Toni! Where’ve you been?”
She came in and sat down. “Where’ve I been? I’ve been here. You’re the one who’s been gone. Is it time for a drink yet?” She looked out the window at the clock on the Times Building. “Just two thirty? How can that possibly be?”
“I know, right?” I chuckled. “You got plans tonight?”
“No, ma’am,” she said. “So we can do whatever. But I’m not waiting till then to find out what’s up with you. A little bird told me Hemet’s after your ass, and you know I never pass up a chance to say ‘I told you so.’”
“You sure did,” I replied ruefully. I filled her in on the events of the past few days.
“This is definitely gonna chap Hemet’s ass. Gotta love that,” she remarked. “And you’re right, the case is interesting as hell, but it’s a real toughie.” Then she added wryly, “Lucky for you, there’s no pressure.”
“Ugh,” I said glumly. “Don’t remind me. I just got an earful from Eric. I’m waiting for the bank’s surveillance-camera footage and hoping it’ll pop something out for us.”
Toni nodded. “You mean, as in, make it an easy one?” She gave me an incredulous look. “You need to share what you’ve been smoking.”
I laughed and shook my head. “A girl can dream, right?”
“Sure, whatever,” Toni said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You ever hear back from Scott about the victim’s physical condition?”
“Not yet. But I’ll keep after him. So catch me up with you-what’s going on?”
Toni exhaled heavily, her expression dour. “I just got assigned to that geezer bank robber case.”
“That eighty-year-old guy with the oxygen tank on his back?” I asked. “I didn’t know they had a suspect in custody already.”
“They don’t, but we just had a press conference today,” Toni confirmed. “I’m totally screwed on this one. The way he shuffles around on that surveillance tape, he looks like a geriatric tortoise,” she said, shaking her head morosely. “The jurors are going to think he’s just the poor little senior fighting back against the big, bad banks. It’s got not guilty written all over it.”
I bit my lips to keep from laughing. The geezer bandit was one for the books. He’d robbed all nine banks with an oxygen tank on his back, and after he got the money, he toddled out, slow as molasses. The case was ready-made for jury nullification. Boiled down to its essence, every jury trial is a popularity contest. And these days banks aren’t exactly prom queen. The jurors would probably carry him out on their shoulders.
“You think the defense’ll bring in the oxygen tank as an exhibit?” I asked.
“I know you think you’re funny, I just don’t know why,” Toni replied flatly. “But I suppose I’d let you apologize for your insensitivity by buying me dinner.”
I held up a hand. “I just spent about thirty dollars of my limited discretionary income on a couple of homeless guys. Take pity on a poor civil servant.”
Toni relented, but we decided we deserved a splurge, so we agreed to try out Drago Centro, a relatively new restaurant in the financial district with an exotic menu and reputedly great service.
Toni took her leave, and I pulled out the Simon Bayer file and a legal pad. Having dinner plans always improved my focus. I started to work on my to-do list, but when I got to “canvass for more surveillance-camera footage,” I stopped cold as my stomach twisted into a knot.
I immediately picked up the phone and called Bailey. After giving her the unsurprising news that I’d been assigned to the case, I got to the problem that had jumped out at me. “If it is Lilah Bayer in that surveillance footage, the fact that she never came forward to report the stabbing tells us at the very least that she’s not interested in getting involved, right?”
“Yep.”
“But we need her-badly-since we can’t see the stabber on any of the footage we’ve found so far. The problem is, once I amend the complaint to show that the victim’s name is Simon Bayer, the press will be all over it. Even a halfway-alert reporter will be able to figure out their connection and start looking for footage showing the stabbing-”
“They’ll have that footage before the ink is dry on your complaint. ‘Brother of Murdered Cop Zack Bayer is Stabbed to Death! Acquitted Wife, Lilah Bayer, a Witness! Film at Eleven!’”
“Exactly. And once that footage hits the airwaves, she’ll really drop the shades and pull up the blankets. So the question is, how do we keep it under wraps?”