Donna came out of the kitchen carrying a tray shortly after Peter started playing the tapes. She gave Peter and her husband cups of coffee and a slice of cake. Then, she sat on the co next to Steve and listened as Dennis Downes explained to Gary the marvelous powers he possessed.
"Are Gary's statements the reason he was arrested?" Donna asked Peter when the tapes were finished.
"They're a big part of it."
"But that's so unfair. Gary thought he was being a detective. He thought he was helping Downes. Gary wouldn't understand that Downes was fooling him.
No jury is going to believe that what Gary said was a confession."
"It would if Gary knows something that only the killer could know," Mancini said, "and I'm betting that somewhere on these tapes is something like that."
"Keeping Gary's statement out of evidence is definitely the key to winning the case," Peter said. "The question is how to do it."
"Doesn't the fact that Downes lied to Gary mean anything?" Donna asked.
"I seem to remember reading some cases in law school that held that a confession that is elicited by deceit won't hold up," Peter said.
"Maybe I can help find them," Donna volunteered.
"When I was studying to be a legal secretary I took a course on how to do legal research. Mr. Willoughby lets me do research for him, every once in a while."
"I can use all the help I can get," Peter said.
Mancini frowned. "When would you fit it in, honey?
You're pretty busy at work."
"I could do the research after work or on the weekend. Please, Steve. I want to do something more to help Gary than make coffee."
"Well ... I guess if it's okay with Pete Donna leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. Then, she stood up.
"I'll let you two get back to work while I clean up.
Holler if you need anything. And, Peter, let me know what you want me to do."
Donna almost skipped out of the room. There was a big smile on her face.
"You did okay, Steve. Donna's terrific."
"Why thanks," Mancini answered with a self-satisfied smile. "One thing, though. Don't count on Donna for much help. She's a good legal secretary, but legal research .. . ?" Mancini flashed Peter a patronizing smile. "Still, if you can find a make-work project for her, she'll be happy as a clam."
"She seems pretty sharp to me," Peter said, surprised to hear his friend put down his wife. "Let's see what she can do."
"Sure," Mancini said. He took a sip of coffee. "Let's get back to the confession. We should make a list of possible attacks on it. I noticed that Don Bosco observed a lot of the questioning. Why don't I talk to him and see what he has to say about it."
"Good idea."
"I'll do it first thing in the morning."
"I'm going to need a good investigator. Can you suggest someone?ll "There aren't many in this area. Ralph Cotton is pretty good. He does some wa.rk for the Sissler firm.
And Mike Compton does some investigation."
Mancini thought for a moment. "You know, there's a guy I've used, Barney Pullen. He works as a mechanic a t his brother's garage, but he used to be a cop. You might check to see if he's available."
Peter jotted down the names Steve had given him.
Then, he said, "There are a few other things we have to go over. Becky included a police report about the peeping incident. Another report mentions some pornographic magazines that were found in the closet in Gary's bedroom. I think Becky is going to try and have the porno stuff and evidence of the peeping incident admitted. What can we do about that?"
"We have to file a motion to keep that out. The jurors are going to believe Gary's a pervert if they hear it."
"I agree. Why don't I concentrate on this issue."
"Okay.
"There's something else," Peter said.
Mancini noticed a change in Peter's voice. Whatever this new thing was, it had Peter worried.
"What's the problem?"
Peter handed Mancini a stack of police reports.
"I'm hoping these reports are in here by mistake. If they're not, Gary may be in big trouble."
Mancini skimmed the first report. His features clouded.
"Did Becky mention anything about this?"
"No.
Mancini laid the stack of reports on his desk.
"She can't think Gary was also involved in these cases."
"She must. Why would she give me police reports about the murders of two other women if she didn't think Gary committed them?"
Chapter FOURTEEN.
The prisoners in the Whitaker jail were allowed an hour a day to exercise in the yard. Gary waited for that hour like a marooned sailor longing for rescue. Inside, the jail was musty gray and the air was heavy. Outside, there with reminders was the sun, birds in flight and air sweet of the way his life used to be. This afternoon, Gary leaned against the chain-link fence and watched several prisoners pumping iron on the far side of the yard.
Gary wanted to lift weights, but he was afraid to go near them. Besides, he wasn't feeling so good. The meeting with Peter Hale had left him confused. Peter said he did not have supernatural powers, but he was certain he did.
If he didn't have those powers, how did he know so much about the murder?
How had he seen Sandra Whiley die?
"Hey, Gary?" a familiar voice said. Gary turned around and saw Kevin Booth. Booth was sweating and of stand still. He had been using so many he couldn drugs that his system was having trouble adjusting to the deprivations jail imposed. Gary did not notice. All he knew was that he finally had a friend to talk to.
"Hi, Kevin! Are you arrested too?"
"Yeah. I got busted a few days ago."
"What did you do?" Gary asked with concern.
"I fucked up, big time. Federal stuff."
Booth's shoulders twitched a little.
"I don't like it here," Gary confided.
"Why is that?"
"Some of the men pick on me. They say mean things."
"You've got to learn how to deal with those motherfuckers," Booth responded with false bravado. He wanted Gary to think he was not afraid of being in jail, but he had barely slept during the short stint he had spent when he was arrested at Whitaker State and last night had been hell. "If anyone messes with you, you mess them up first or you won't get any respect."
"My mom says I shouldn't fight," Gary said nervously.
"Yeah? Well, your mom isn't in jail."
just as he said this, Booth noticed Rafael Vargas sitting in the bleachers near the body builders. Not far away, his bodyguard, Carlos Rivera, was completing a set of curls with weights that were the size of car tires.
Every time he brought the bar to his chest, his body would swell up like a balloon. Booth felt his bowels loosen and he looked away quickly.
"So, man," Booth said, moving so Gary's body blocked Vargas's view of him, "I read about you. You're a fuckin' media star. Front page! Murder!
That's heavy."
"I didn't do anything to that girl," Gary assured his friend. "I just seen it."
"Seen what?"
"My lawyer doesn't want me to talk about the case to anyone."
An idea suddenly occurred to Booth. He shot a quick look at Vargas. When he turned back to Gary, he was wearing an ingratiating smile.
"Hey, Gary, this is me. We've been buddies since high school. What do you think I'm gonna do, rat you out?"
"Oh no," Gary said, coloring with embarrassment.
"Your lawyers probably don't want you talking to someone you don't know. Now, that makes sense. But I'm your friend, right?"
"Oh, sure," Gary agreed.