“Anything else?”
“Yes. We got served a subpoena on the phone company for the MUDs for Adams’s home and office phones. They tell us it will take them a few days to put it all together. I’ll call you as soon as I have something.”
Mike took another hearty drag on the pipe. “Oh. I almost forgot. We think we’ve got a blood sample. Found some blood on Adams’s left hand that didn’t come from him. Maybe Adams managed to cut his assailant before he got shish-kebabed. It would be nice to think so.” He removed a crumpled lab report from his coat pocket and handed it to Ben.
Ben took the sheet of paper and scanned it, trying to remember what little he had learned at the D.A.’s office about blood analysis.
Adams
Unknown
Rhesus Pos
Rhesus Pos
ABO A
O
AK 2-1 (7.6%)
I (92.3%)
PGM 1+ (40%)
2+, 1-(4.8%)
Ben made a few notes on his legal pad. “Is the unknown a secretor?”
Mike raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed. Maybe you did learn a thing or two in OKC. Yeah, he’s a secretor, not that that gets us far in this kind of case. We’re not likely to stumble across any sperm samples.”
“Still,” Ben said, “a blood match gives you a second means of positively IDing the killer.”
Mike nodded. “Once we find him. But enough about me. What have you been up to, Ben?”
“Nothing very productive. Why?”
“Funny thing. A burglary occurred two nights ago at the Sanguine offices. Someone got in—we don’t know how. There’s no sign of forced entry. Burglar escaped through a second-story window. Damn near got caught.”
Ben stared intently at his legal pad. “Did they take anything?”
“Why do you say they? I just mentioned a burglar.” Mike smiled. “Nothing taken that we know of. That makes it even stranger. You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
Ben spoke nonchalantly. “Of course not. How could I?”
“I had to ask. Matter of procedure.” He removed the pipe from his lips and stared at it. “Frankly, if it had been you, I wouldn’t want to know, because then I’d have to ask if you found anything, and if you did I’d have to ask what. I’d be exposed to illegally obtained evidence, and some jerk lawyer would make a fruit-of-the-poisonous-tree argument and I’d never get a conviction in this case. True, the police didn’t break into the office building, but some shyster might suggest that I urged my brother-in-law to do this dastardly deed.”
Message received and understood, Ben thought. “Ex-brother-in-law,” he said.
“Right.”
“Anything else?” Ben asked.
“Nope. Just keep me posted, and I’ll do likewise. I’m going to send some more men with Adams’s picture around the neighborhood where we found the body. See if anyone recognizes him.”
“You mean anyone in that neighborhood who will talk to the boys in blue. Lotsa luck.”
“Yeah, exactly. Well, I’ll see you around.” He started out the door. Ben followed him.
“You have a message,” Maggie said as Ben stepped out of his office. “Mr. Derek called in twenty minutes ago. He says he’ll meet you at the courthouse.”
“Twenty minutes ago? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maggie fluttered her eyelids. “You were in conference.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Great. See you around, Mike.” He dashed back into his office, grabbed his suit coat and script, and ran for the elevator.
19
BEN DASHED INTO JUDGE Schmidt’s courtroom, briefcase in hand, coat slung over his arm. Christina was waiting for him at the plaintiff’s table …
“Where’s Derek?” she asked.
“You mean he’s not here yet?” Ben threw his briefcase and coat in a chair by the table.
“Don’t worry. He works well on his feet. Just get the script out.”
A tiny blonde in a plain red dress walked up to the table. Her hair was disarranged, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in several nights. Mascara had been applied to her eyes with an unsteady hand.
“Where is he?” the woman asked.
Ben looked up. “Mrs. Derek!” He corrected himself. “Louise.”
“Where is he?” she repeated.
“You mean Mr. Derek?” Ben exchanged a glance with Christina. “He’s not here yet. He’s still … not here yet.”
Louise released a short, bitter laugh. “He’s not at home. He hasn’t been home all night.”
“I see,” Ben said, nodding his head. He drummed his fingers on the table. What to say, what to say? “Can I … give Mr. Derek a message when he arrives?”
Louise was staring at Christina. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”
Christina pressed her hand against her chest. “Me? No, I’m not … I mean, I don’t know what you mean, but whatever you mean, it isn’t me.”
Louise repeated the bitter laugh. “I don’t suppose you’d admit it if you were. I couldn’t even expect him to commit adultery in an honorable fashion.”
She returned her gaze to Ben. “Yes, you can take a message. On one of those little pink sheets of paper. Check the box labeled no return call required. This is my message: don’t come home—we don’t want you.” She took a deep breath. “Ever.”
With that, she pivoted on her heels and marched out of the courtroom.
Ben pursed his lips and blew. “Whew. You get the feeling Derek has crossed the line once too often?”
Christina nodded. “Evidently. I don’t care much, though, for being linked with Derek. Particularly not as the homewrecking floozy. Next thing I know, I’ll be hauled into divorce court.”
Behind Ben, someone cleared his throat. “I have the exhibits Mr. Derek asked for.”
Ben looked up and saw Darryl Tidwell, Sanguine’s personal secretary. He was wearing a blue sports jacket and, beneath it, a pink cardigan sweater and darker pink tie.
“These are the photographs we took of the interior and exterior of this Eggs ‘N’ Such place.” Ben looked at each of the photographs as Tidwell handed them to him. “As you can see, their street sign is extremely similar to our Eggs ‘N’ Stuff logo—same colors, same font. Similar on the inside, too. Same decor, practically identical menu—the whole ball of wax.” He handed the entire packet to Ben. “I’d have gotten these to you sooner, but I was delayed.”
“I’ll see that Derek gets these.”
“Where is he, anyway?” Tidwell asked.
“He’s—” Ben began.
“—out for the moment,” Christina interceded. “He’ll be here any minute.”
“Oh,” Tidwell said. He ran his fingers through the thinning hair on either side of his bald head. “Say, Ben, do you know why they’re replacing laboratory rats with lawyers?”
Ben sighed. Remember: courtesy to the client. “No. Why?”
“Lawyers are more plentiful, and you don’t get so attached to them.” He laughed heartily. “Also there are some things a rat just won’t do.” He laughed even louder.
Ben tried to smile.
“Well, I guess I’ll find a seat. Sanguine wants me to give him a full report on the hearing.”
“Good plan.”
Tidwell turned and shuffled back to the courtroom gallery.
Christina glanced toward the door leading to the judge’s chambers. “There’s the bailiff. If Derek doesn’t show up in about two minutes, Ben, I’d say you’re about to give your first oral argument.”
Ben’s eyes widened.
“All rise.”
The court bailiff stepped through the door and behind him, in a long black robe, was Judge Schmidt.