Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5) (25 page)

“It made me sick, and I felt selfish. I couldn’t even guess at how it affected Greg. Men from there are so different. There were secrets in that country and they weren’t good. I could never understand even if I spoke their language. I was happy to come back here. Greg? He never left it behind. He thought he was the Godfather. He had a big heart and he brought young people to America so they could make a better life.” She turned her eyes back to Mike. “That’s what he did, didn’t he? They did have a better life, right?”

Mike didn’t want to point out that Rosa’s could have been better.

“What do you think happened to your husband?”

Kat blinked. A tear rolled out of one eye. She wasn’t tough. She wasn’t even a bitch. She was scared and the big man who had stood between her and the world was gone.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “And I don’t want to know about these girls. If they ended up dancing in some strip joint, then Greg still did a good thing. It was better than where they’d been. I believe that. I know that.”

Kat Oi ran out of steam. She collapsed on the sofa, and put her hands on her knees. Her head hung low, her jewelry sparkled in the light coming through the windows. When she sat up, her face had changed. She pushed herself up, and went into the next room. She came back with a picture.

“I found this when I was going through his things.” She handed the picture to Mike. “I found a picture of Greg standing outside of a farmhouse, and I found that. That’s a picture of the old man who came here with Sam Lumina that night. I’d swear it. I know he’s a lot younger, but I’d swear it’s him. I think they were friends then.”

Mike kept his eyes lowered. There was no doubt. This was a picture of Gjergy Isai as a much younger man. Greg Oi stood by his side, both looking like poor imitations of superman with their chests thrown out and their fists planted on their hips. Kat was back on the sofa.

“And the way you found Greg dressed?” Kat went on. “Those were his comfort clothes. When he was upset, he got all dolled up. I guess the fact that he dressed like that with me meant he really trusted me. I thought it meant he loved me. But if he was dressed like a girl in that woman’s house, maybe that meant he loved her, too? Do you think that’s what it meant? That he loved her, and I was second choice?”

Mike took the photograph and left Kat to her thoughts. Wendy stood in the doorway. She gave him a nod and held up two plastic bags. He excused himself and went to her.

“A ledger.” She held up the large bag. “Looks like he indentured them for a couple years and then knocked ‘em off the books. He got a nice chunk of change up front from the families. The girls end up nannies, housemaids, bar maids that kind of thing. Looks like there are some men who bought off the women’s de
bt. Maybe this was kind of like a mail order bride set-up.”

“Anyone of interest in there?” Mike asked.

“Actually, there’s a name that is missing. Rosa isn’t there. But I’ve got this.” She held up the smaller bag. “I found them in a trick drawer in the desk.”

“Wall safes, trick drawers. Oi wasn’t a trusting man.”

Wendy held out passports for Rosafa Zogaj and Besnik Zogaj. “If Rosa was emancipated from his little scheme, he was still holding her hostage.”

Wendy opened the bag, retrieved the two documents. She opened the first. Mike looked at a picture of a lovely, childlike Rosa Zuni. Wendy opened the second one and showed him a picture of a little boy, tow headed, bright-eyed boy they knew as Billy Zuni.

Sam Lumina’s wife thought she was going to throw up. Or faint. Or throw up and then faint which would be the worst. What would have made it totally worse would be that she did it in front of the lady across the desk. She was gorgeous, but she also had a way about her that made Mary feel that everything was going to be okay. It was like she really wanted to help.

“Are you sure you don’t want a cup of coffee or a glass of water?”

“No. That’s okay. Thanks.”

Wendy Sterling smiled and waited. And waited while the woman across from her fidgeted and held onto her purse like it was going to explode if she let it go.

“Look,” Mary said, “I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing, but I think I am.”

“Then you probably are. Maybe we could just start at the beginning. Is there something specific that brought you here?”

“It’s the thing that happened in Hermosa. You know, the two guys who died?” Mary whispered.

“Yes. And the woman,” Wendy said.

“She died, too?”

“She’s critical,” Wendy answered. “Did you know her?”

Mary shook her head,” No, I don’t know her.”

“Did you know the men?” Wendy asked.

“I knew Jac Duka. I’m good friends with his wife, Sharon. My boy plays with hers.”

“I’m so sorry,” Wendy commiserated.

“And, well, Mr. Oi. My husband works at Marshall Fasteners, but I don’t know him personally. I mean I didn’t know him. I never spoke to him, that is.” The woman fidgeted. That was a good sign. Wendy could work with nervous; belligerent was a different matter.

“Okay.” Wendy smiled her woman smile, which was quite different from the klieg light smile she used on men sitting across the desk from her.

“So would you like to talk about Jak Duka? I mean, since you knew him.”

“Oh, God!” she finally broke down. “I don’t know what I want to talk about. You see there’s this guy who’s been staying with us. This old man. He’s like really weird, and he’s some relative of my husband’s, and I think he had something to do with all this. No, I know he did. He is so scary, and he hated Greg Oi. I heard him talking about him.”

“What exactly did he say?” Wendy leaned closer, lowering her voice, signaling she was ready for any confidence this woman had to share. If she decided to play hardball, Wendy would deal with that later.

“Well, I don’t really know. I just know I would hear him talking about Mr. Oi. It was the way he talked about him. He didn’t speak English when he was talking about him, so I don’t know exactly what he was saying but believe me, it wasn’t good.”

“What about the night of the murders?” Wendy prodded.

“He was out. He came in late and then all these old guys came into my house. It was like the movies, you know?” Mary’s eyes widened and her words got breathy.

“Was your husband with his uncle?”

Mary’s brow pulled together as if surprised by the stupidity of that question.

“Well, sure, he had to drive him around. But it’s the old guy, he’s the one. I have proof.”

Wendy’s pulse quickened. She had two quick thoughts. First, she was amazed that this woman didn’t put two and two together. If she had proof that Gjergy Isai was responsible for the deaths of Oi and Duka, and she admitted her husband was with the old man, then that made her husband complicit. The second thought was much simpler. She was thinking about what Mary Lumina might possibly have brought her.

“I’ll be happy to look at whatever you have, naturally,” she said.

It was like the heavens opened up and gave Mary permission to unburden herself. She plopped her purse on Wendy’s desk. Clearly there was more in that purse than lip gloss by the hollow sound it made when it hit. Mary Lumina opened it up and withdrew a cloth bag. She put it on the desk and slid it toward Wendy.

“I found this in our house. It was hidden,” she whispered. “You test it. I know what you’re going to find. You’re going to find that old man’s fingerprints on it.”

Wendy slid the bag across the desk. Her pulse was beating so fast she was almost sure her watch was going to jump right off her wrist. The bag was old and soft and she didn’t have to open it to know what was inside. She looked anyway.

“You’ve brought me a gun, Mrs. Lumina.”

Mary lowered her voice even further. “We don’t own a gun. It belongs to the old man. You test it. It’s the gun that killed Jac and Mr. Oi. I’m telling you, it’s the old man who did it.”

“You’re very brave to bring it here,” Wendy assured her.

“I just want him out of my house,” she insisted, emboldened by Wendy’s praise. “I want him out of my life. I’m afraid for my husband and my child. I don’t mind telling you, I’m afraid of him. He doesn’t like women. I don’t know what his beef was with any of those people, but he is scary.”

“I’ll get this to the lab right away. Well check ballistics. We’ll look for a serial number, but, Mrs. Lumina, we’re not going to be able to tell if he pulled the trigger. We can’t finger print him without cause.”

“I thought of that. He has no idea who he’s dealing with. That old goat never cleans up anything. I brought you this.” She dug into her purse and came up with a shot glass. “Test that. I can swear in court that was the glass he used. And I guarantee you, those are the fingerprints you’re going to find on that gun.”

***

Rita Potter had her papers, pens, and briefcase set out precisely on the table in front of her. A woman Josie presumed to be a CPS caseworker sat with her, portfolio in her lap, staring straight ahead, lost in thoughts that did not seem to be unpleasant. A gentleman sporting a ponytail and a jacket a size too big for him blinked behind rimless glasses as he reviewed notes that appeared to befuddle him. Mike Montoya was behind county counsel and to the right. Judge Healy’s clerk answered a telephone call, laughed and hung up. A court reporter was set and ready for testimony. The two people Josie most hoped to see – Sam Lumina and Gjergy Isai - were there, also.

Sam pulled a thread on his jacket, and the button popped off. The courtroom was so quiet everyone heard the curse he muttered and the clatter as his button fell. He went after it. Gjergy watched with little interest. Then Josie saw a slight tic in the older man’s jaw. He knew she was there, but when he faced forward without acknowledging her, Josie walked down the aisle and took a seat on the bench in front of them. Sam was up, noticed her, and scowled. She spoke to Gjergy.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“Will the judge give me
Besnik?” Gjergy asked.

“Not today. I’m hoping he’ll allow you to speak. Anything you can offer as proof of your relationship with Rosa and Billy will be helpful.”

“I have my word,” Gjergy answered and Josie resisted the urge to point out that no court of law took anyone at their word.

“Until we can get proof, then, I’ll just ask you to speak to the association we are trying to establish.” Josie took a deep breath. “But you understand, the judge might now allow this.”

“What’s going to happen to the kid if you can’t get him to see it our way?” Sam asked.

Josie held her tongue. She disliked this man so much she wished she only had to deal with Gjergy. At least he was focused on Billy.

“He could go to foster parents - people who will look after him until the criminal matter is resolved,” she explained for Gjergy’s benefit. Josie had no doubt Sam Lumina knew the options. “A lot will depend on Rosa.”

“Rosafa,” Gjergy corrected.

“Yes. Rosafa. Hopefully, she’ll be able to identify you soon. Then the judge might allow temporary custody to transfer to you. At that point, you and Rosafa will deal with immigration and social services.”

“It’s complicated.” Gjergy sounded like he was mocking her.

“We’ll take one step at a time. I’ll help as much as I can,” Josie assured him.

“In my country the law is clear.”

Josie smiled. What was there to say? He came from a country where the law was whatever the top guy said it was. Josie stood up, but Gjergy had one more question.

“The policeman. He wishes to talk to me again. Is it your law that I must speak with him?”

Josie glanced at Montoya. He was watching them. She turned back to Gjergy.

“You don’t have to, but I would advise it. I can be with you when you talk to Detective Montoya.”

“We shall see what the judge says,” Gjergy decided.

Josie sidestepped back to the center aisle, pushed through the bar, handed a sheaf of papers to the clerk. He immediately rose and disappeared into the judge’s chamber while Josie took her place at the defense table. Unable to help herself, she stole a glance at Montoya. She cocked her head. He nodded politely. She turned away just as the judge entered the courtroom. Everyone rose and the clerk called:

“Department 10 is now in session. The honorable M. Jason Healey presiding. Please be seated.”

“Morning everyone,” Judge Healy said.

The greeting of those in attendance was a hash of morning and judge and Your Honor spoken in various tones and inflections. It was a harmony that Josie loved and had since the first time she entered a courtroom. When they were once again seated, Healy opened Billy’s case file, and laid it out.

“You are all here, and, I am assuming, ready to proceed with the fitness hearing of the minor, Billy Zuni.” The judge sat back. His chair bounced a little as he settled in. “I understand Mr. Zuni will be released from the hospital day after tomorrow. That means a decision today is imperative. If anyone has additional information regarding Mr. Zuni’s physical condition, speak up now or forever hold your peace.”

“Your Honor.” Josie stood. “I would like to bring to the court’s attention that a relative has been located. I would like to read his name into the record and call him as a witness if it please the court.”

“Why was he not made available sooner?”

“He is in the United States as a visitor. It is a complicated situation which might better be discussed in chambers.”

“In its own good time, Ms. Bates. Let’s start where we left off, and then we’ll consider new information. Ms. Potter, it’s your show. Let’s get to it.”

Doctor Hardy was called to the stand. As he passed, Josie noticed that his pants were a size too big, yet he seemed perfectly comfortable in his clothes. He raised his hand, blinked in cadence with the swearing in, and was seated. Rita Potter dispensed with the pleasantries quickly and got to it.

Rita Potter: How did you find Billy Zuni during your examination?

Dr. Hardy: He was lucid, fully aware of who I was and why I was there. He could walk albeit with some pain and unsteadiness. He is no longer on morphine and is clear-headed.

Rita Potter: What were your initial impressions?

Dr. Hardy: Billy is a mentally healthy seventeen-year-old boy who was able to answer my questions, at times reluctantly. He was inordinately gratuitous and pleasant, almost childlike at times. I do not believe that he is mentally deficient or suffering any mental illness, but he was evasive regarding his family.

Rita Potter: Did Billy confirm that Rosa Zuni was his mother?

Dr. Hardy: His answers were always an affirmation of a close mother/son relationship. He easily slipped between calling her his mother and using her given name.

Rita Potter: Did this concern you?

Dr. Hardy: Not particularly. If a child has been put in a confusing position regarding family affiliations, he or she will default to the easiest, simplest relationship.

Rita Potter: Examples?

Doctor Hardy: Children who, through no fault of their own, find themselves in an ever-changing familial landscape exhibit this behavior. If there are multiple marriages, the child might default to calling a stepparent mother or father because it is embarrassing or difficult to explain what happened to the biological parent. Consider also children of abuse who are forced to refer to a person – family member or not – in a certain way. An abducted child might use a family reference to ease the horror of his or her situation or be instructed to do so in order that the abductor not be found out. In the latter case, such behavior may protect the biological family that has also been threatened.

Rita Potter: Where might Billy fall into this spectrum?

Doctor Potter: It is impossible to say. Two things stand out in my mind. He is overly cautious about not rocking the boat he perceives himself to be in, and he is a very intelligent young man who does not wear that intelligence on his sleeve.

Rita Potter: Do you believe him capable of committing violence upon a person?

Doctor Hardy: I can’t answer that. I had limited time with Billy. He appears good-natured and talkative, yet says very little of a personal nature. He continually apologized for causing problems. He is well scripted. It appears to me that Billy Zuni has created extreme parameters for himself.

Rita Potter: Is that an unusual thing for a teenager to do?

Doctor Hardy: No. A seventeen-year-old boy is very adept at this. He might be swaggering on the campus of his high school, and yet be solicitous as he sits at a table with his grandparents. Billy expertly negotiated the conversation especially where Rosa Zuni was involved. This does raise a red flag if it is behavior considered along with other circumstances.”