we had the entire story, and that we skated through only because the
standard of proof's so low. Oh, yeah, and the media were in the
courtroom."
"You're fucking shitting me."
"I shit you not. After the morning I've had, I am in a strictly non
shitting mode of communication." I did my best to sound upset, but now
I had the office right where I needed it. No way would Duncan permit
the bureau to continue ignoring the evidence pointing to Gunderson.
"I'm almost afraid to ask: Who are these witnesses?"
"Larry Gunderson, who owns the Glenville construction site, and Billy
Minkins, who works for him."
"For the love of God, Kincaid. Not this again. The defendant's mom
says one thing to you 'my boy ain't never had a job so good' and ever
since then you can't let it drop."
His Mrs. Jackson impersonation wasn't half bad.
"It's more than that, Russ." But before I got a chance to explain it
all to him, his phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he decided to
answer it.
"Hi, Duncan .. . Yeah, she's right here.. .. No, Prescott found
probable cause, but it's a little more complicated than that.. .. OK,
yeah, we'll be right down." Russ hopped out of his chair as he hung
up. "I'll do what I can for you, Samantha, but if I were you I'd hold
my nose and pucker up, because you've got some serious ass-kissing in
front of you."
In the couple of minutes it took to run down the back stairs to
Duncan's office, I managed to give Russ at least the big picture. I
left out the part about my role in steering Slip's action, but I did
tell him about the contents of Clarissa's safe deposit box and
Gunderson's stake in the urban growth boundary.
"So what's your theory?"
"I'm not done telling you everything yet."
"Reader's Digest version, Kincaid. Duncan's waiting for us."
"I think Clarissa had some kind of deal with Gunderson where she agreed
to rule in his favor on his appeal. I also think that Gunderson has a
lot to lose if the urban growth boundary doesn't expand in Glenville,
and that Clarissa's affair with Caffrey had something to do with that.
For whatever reason, though, Clarissa was thinking about blowing the
whistle "
A voice cut me off. "Where the hell are they?" Shit. It was Duncan
standing in the hallway, apparently counting the seconds to make sure
we weren't dillydallying.
"I think that's for us, kid," Russ said. "Let's do this."
My pulse started to accelerate the minute I sat on Duncan Griffith's
leather sofa. If what they say about state-dependent learning is true,
his office would eventually begin to trigger an automatic gag reflex in
me.
He wasn't helping to calm my nerves. "Sounds like you've had a busy
morning, Samantha."
"Yes, although not nearly as chaotic as Roger Kirkpatrick apparently
led you to believe. Russ told me that Roger called you."
97 R
"Well, he called me, but the bigger problem is Jim Thorpe, who called
the chief of police, the mayor, and everyone else who was willing to
listen. The way I understand it, Kirkpatrick's pissed on behalf of
Townsend, because he doesn't want to see the prosecution of his wife's
murderer derailed. And Thorpe's pissed because his client's being
dragged through a three-ring circus. Do you want to explain to me why
you're sabotaging your own case?"
"I did nothing of the sort. The defense threw us some curve balls
today, and I still managed to swing the probable cause finding." It
was hard to keep a straight face with the sports metaphor.
"According to Kirkpatrick, you called him Sunday afternoon asking to
talk to this Gunderson fellow. Then, when he said no, lo and behold,
the defense attorney ups and subpoenas the guy. You want to explain
that to me?"
I gave him the same version I gave Frist the one where Slip and I are
equally savvy and wind up on the same track. I also gave him a rundown
on what Minkins had confirmed about Gunderson and what I still
suspected.
By the time I was finished, Duncan's eyes were pressed shut, his right
palm pressed against his temple. "That's one a hell of mess, all
right," he said, his eyes still shut. Then, opening them to look at
me, he said, "We'll talk about your role in this in a second, but first
things first. Russ, the last time I checked, you were working this
case too. What do you think?"
"I don't like it," Russ said. "But I think the defense has dug up
enough that we have to look into it. If we ignore it, Szlip-kowsky
will haul it all out in front of a jury, and we'll look like we're
steamrolling a poor black guy to cover up some white-collar dirty
laundry."
For a second, I thought I'd stroked out and was having delusions. I
looked down. Nope, I was still wearing panty hose and my calves were
still puffy. This was definitely not heaven. But my supervisor was
actually defending me to our boss.
"You guys can't possibly be telling me that you buy this conspiracy
theory shit," Duncan said. "Planted evidence, for Christ's sake?"
"I don't know what to think," I said, "but I agree with Russ. We can't
ignore it. How many times have I heard in this office that only the
guilty lawyer up? You should have seen Gunderson in there. He invoked
to every question. He's definitely hiding something, and if he takes
the Fifth in front of a jury, we're toast. Jackson will walk, and so
will any hope we have of trying someone else for the same crime."
Duncan thought about it, his prosecutorial instincts kicking in.
Prosecutors share a belief system resembling a kind of secular faith,
and a central tenet of that system is that a witness who invokes is
hiding something. Maybe not the thing you're looking for, but
something. In our church of prosecutors, it's the equivalent of the
truth shall set you free.
"Help me think this thing through," he said. "If it's all connected,
the victim and Gunderson had some kind of arrangement, and Gunderson
killed her because she was planning to talk?"
"Right," I said. "I think it went beyond that one appeal Clarissa
heard. I think her affair with Caffrey fits in somehow. He's a swing
vote on whether to expand suburban development, an issue Gunderson
stands to profit from. A lot. It would explain the videotape Clarissa
had of her and Caffrey coming out of the motel. Maybe she was
blackmailing him but couldn't go through with it."
"And they set up Melvin Jackson as the bad guy?" Russ asked.
"It certainly wouldn't be the first time a white criminal took
advantage of stereotypes." We'd all seen the stories before. When
that woman sunk her kids in the river, the first thing she said was