I didn't
Frank cut him off. Sandowski was found on property about twenty-five miles from here. More corpses were buried a short distance from the cabin where they discovered two severed heads. Most of the victims were tortured.
I don't care what happened at that cabin. I didn't do it.
Your word alone isn't going to be enough to win this case. Scofield has several witnesses who will testify that you attacked Mary Sandowski in the hallway of St. Francis.
Cardoni looked exasperated. He addressed Frank the way he might talk to a not-too-bright child.
Haven't I made myself clear, Frank? I do not own a house in Milton County, and I do not know a thing about these murders.
What about the videocassette? McCarthy says your prints are on it.
That's easy. The person who planted it obviously stole it from my house, taped over what was on it and returned it.
And the cocaine they found in your bedroom?
The question surprised Cardoni. He colored and broke eye contact with Jaffe.
Well? Frank asked.
It's mine.
I thought you were going to get help after I got you out of that last scrape.
Don't preach at me, Frank.
Do you hear me preaching?
What? Now you're disappointed in me? Fuck that. You're my lawyer, not a priest or a shrink, so let's get back to these bullshit charges. What else do the cops have?
Your prints are on a scalpel with Sandowski's blood on it. They were also on a half-filled coffee mug that was found next to the kitchen sink.
Suddenly Cardoni looked interested.
What kind of coffee mug?
It's in here someplace.
Frank shuffled through the stack of police reports until he found what he was after. He gave two photocopied sheets to Cardoni. One showed the mug sitting on the kitchen counter, and the other was a close-up. Cardoni looked up triumphantly.
Justine bought this mug for me in one of those boutiques on Twenty-third Street when we were dating. It was in my office at St. Francis until it disappeared a few weeks ago. I thought one of the cleaning people stole it.
What about the scalpel?
I' m a surgeon, Frank! I handle scalpels every day. It's obvious. Someone is framing me.
Frank thought about that possibility. He thumbed through the police reports.
This whole thing started with Bobby Vasquez, the cop with the mustache who watched the tape with us. He got a tip that you purchased two kilos of cocaine from Martin Breach and were storing them in a cabin you owned in the mountains near Cedar City. Vasquez claims that an informant corroborated the tip. He went to the cabin to search and found the severed heads in a refrigerator in the makeshift operating room we saw on the tape.
Who gave Vasquez the tip? Cardoni asked.
It was anonymous.
Really? How convenient.
A thought occurred to Frank.
Does Martin Breach supply your cocaine?
I said I didn't want to talk about the blow.
I have a reason for asking. Do you buy from Breach?
No, but the guy I buy from might. I don't know his source.
Frank made some notes on a yellow pad.
Let's talk about Clifford Grant.
Cardoni looked confused. What's this about Grant? That cop asked me about him at the house.
Frank told Cardoni about the investigation into Breach's black-market organ sales, the tip from the police in Montreal and the failed raid at the private airport.
It looks like the organs were being removed at the Milton County house, but the police are certain that Grant didn't harvest the heart. They think he had a partner.
And they think the partner is me? Cardoni asked calmly.
Frank nodded.
Well, they're wrong.
If they are, someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to frame you. Who hates you enough to do that, Vince?
Before Cardoni could answer, the door opened and the guard entered carrying a plastic clothing bag. Frank looked at his watch. It was nine-forty.
We've only got twenty minutes until the bail hearing. I brought a suit, shirt and tie for you from your house. Put them on and I'll meet you in court. Read through the discovery carefully. You're a very bright guy, Vince. Help me figure this out.
The bail hearing in State v. Cardoni was held on the second floor of the county courthouse in the preu World War I courtroom of the Honorable Patrick Brody. Frank and his client sat at one counsel table and Scofield at another. Beyond the bar of the court were rows of hard wooden benches for spectators. Most days a few retirees and a sprinkling of interested parties were the only visitors, but the benches were packed for the hearing. Vans with network logos on their sides and satellite dishes on their roofs jammed the street in front of the courthouse; parking, which was usually a breeze, was impossible to find, as were accommodations at any motel within twenty miles. The combination of mass murder, black-market organ sales, torture and a handsome physician who had already been dubbed Dr. Death by the tabloids had lured reporters from all over the United States and several foreign countries to Cedar City.
While he waited for Fred Scofield to call his first witness, Frank glanced around the courtroom and spotted Art Prochaska watching the proceedings from a seat near the window at the back. Frank had represented several of Martin Breach's employees, but never Prochaska. Nonetheless, Frank recognized him instantly and wondered what he was doing at the hearing.
Judge Brody rapped his gavel, and Scofield called Sean McCarthy to lay out the case against Cardoni. Then the prosecutor put on several forensic experts before calling his final witness.
A woman crossed the courtroom and took the witness stand. She was beautifully dressed in a pale gray pantsuit, a green cashmere turtleneck and pearl earrings. The woman's caramel hair fell gently across her shoulders. Her jade-colored eyes flicked toward Cardoni for a second, then she ignored him. Frank had never seen her before, but his client obviously had, because he stiffened and stared angrily.
Could you please state your name for the record? the bailiff asked.
Dr. Justine Castle, she replied in a firm voice that carried easily to all corners of the courtroom.
How are you employed, Dr. Castle?
I' m a physician, and I' m currently in a residency program in general surgery at St. Francis Medical Center in Portland.
Where did you attend college and medical school?
I received a BS in chemistry at Dartmouth and a master's in biochemistry from Cornell, and I attended medical school at Jefferson in Philadelphia.
Did you work between college and medical school?
Yes. I spent two years working as a research chemist for a pharmaceutical firm in Denver, Colorado.
What is your relationship to the defendant, Vincent Cardoni?
He is my husband, Justine answered tersely.
Were you living together at the time of his arrest on the present charges?
Justine turned toward Cardoni and stared directly at him.
No. I moved out after he beat me.
There was a stir in the crowd, and Judge Brody called for order as Frank stood.
Objection, Your Honor. This is not relevant to the issue before the court, which is whether there is strong proof of my client's guilt of the murders in Milton County.
Overruled.
Can you tell Judge Brody the circumstances of this beating? Scofield continued.
Justine's voice did not waver and she did not flinch when she answered.
It occurred during a rape. Vincent wanted me to have sex with him. He was using cocaine and I refused. He pounded me with his fists until I submitted. Afterward he beat me some more for sport. I moved out that night.
And when was this?
Two months ago.
Judge Brody was old-fashioned. He had been married to the same woman for forty years, and his weekly attendance at church was not for show. His expression reflected the way he felt about men who abused women. Frank saw his chances of obtaining bail fading with each word Justine Castle spoke.