Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (8 page)

“And I could lose my job!” She realized. “Even though I haven’t done anything. I refused to be his mistress. Okay, I should have dumped him much earlier when I found out he was married. All the sex and lusting that’s going on around the world, and I have to pay for the small bit of nothing I did! I get punished for my tiny step into his elite world? Okay, I’ve learned my lesson, but it’s not fair.”

“You need to retain an experienced lawyer to take all the heat and shield you from the slings and arrows. Do you know anyone that might help?”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

“Let me check on something. You stay right here and don’t leave.” She walked over to the front office and whispered to Nigel, “Go stay with Charlene, while I talk with Martin. Do not let her leave. She’s upset and might try to run away.”

Sandy met with Martin in his office. She explained the situation and the notoriety that was about to befall Charlene.

He said, “I can understand a stripper being attracted to Lester for his money. From what you’re telling me, this woman was attracted because she was lonely and apparently didn’t mind him being all over her. Plus, she was enjoying the fling and the trinkets. So, you’re confident she had nothing to do with the murder.”

“I don’t see how she would fit in.”

“In that regard, remember we’ve yet to learn Lester’s connection to the victim and his possible motivation. Explain those two items to me, and I’ll tell you if she fits in.”

“I’m betting there’s nothing there. She’s quite down on herself for enjoying an unfortunate affair, but I believe she’s genuine and deserves our help.”

He stood and walked around the desk and up to her. “You want us to represent her, so she’s shielded from publicity. You had pro bono in mind?”

“I’m hoping that
you
will represent her, and I’m thinking of charging your hours to Mrs. Bardner. Adding it to our fee for Lester’s defense.”

“Sounds unethical to me, Sandy.”

“Consider it this way. It’s our judgment that the disclosure of marital infidelity and surrounding publicity would be injurious to our defense. Therefore, we decided it was critical that we attempt to put a lid on the Charlene Faulk situation. Certainly a justifiable expense.”

“I like it and I’ll do it,” he said. “Now let me meet the distressed damsel.”

They went into Sandy’s office and Nigel excused himself. When Charlene saw Martin her eyes went wide, and she instantly rose from her chair.

Martin made his customary bow upon first meeting a woman. “I’m Martin Bronner, at your service, Miss Faulkner.” He was one of the few remaining males who could say such things and no one would even think of smiling. He didn’t extend his hand as that would be forward, but held it ready at his waist in case the woman should offer her hand. Charlene stood with her mouth open and looked about ready to curtsy.

“I’d be honored to represent you in this matter, Miss Faulk.”

She finally got her breath, “And I’d be honored to pay you, and boy do you look expensive. But I don’t have lawyer-style money. Why are you doing this for me? You don’t even know me.”

“We feel protecting you, your privacy and your rights are essential to Mr. Bardner’s defense.”

She raised her hands and shook her head. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He said, “In short, we will try to keep the cops off your back and your name out of the newspapers.”

Sandy spoke up, “And we’re handing the bill to the jerk who got you into this mess.”

With that, it began to sink in. Charlene turned away and put her head down into her hands. “How can I thank you?” After regaining her composure, she said, “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Let’s all sit down and talk,” he began, “If we can convince the police that you’re of no interest to them, then there’s a good chance of keeping your name out of the newspapers.”

“How are they going to find out about me? Lester won’t tell them for fear of his wife finding out. Is all this really necessary?”

He said, “If we don’t do something, believe me they will find every woman Lester has ever met. Then they’ll start interviewing everyone
you
ever met, including your fellow employees at work.”

“Oh my god, I’m dead, my life is ruined. I’ll be known as the slut who runs around with married men. I might as well slit my wrists right now because I’m going to die of embarrassment. And you guys can prevent that happening?”

“We’re going to tell the police about you first,” Sandy said. “You’ll meet with the lead detective here in this office with Martin by your side. You’ll tell the detective everything he wants to know. When he leaves, we believe he’ll be convinced that you’re of no interest to him in his investigation. In other words, he doesn’t need to run all around digging into your life and talking to friends and neighbors trying to determine if the affair was important.”

“Let me get this straight. You’ll tell the cops everything about me up front? For chrissake, isn’t that dangerous? The detective could just slap the handcuffs on me.”

“It’s very dangerous if you don’t tell the truth, because you will have waived all rights to remain silent. When the detective makes his report, the state attorney may decide to depose you formally under oath, but it will be private and Martin will be with you every step of the way.”

“What if this cop decides to leak my name to the media just to make a name for himself?”

“The detective we have in mind never grandstands,” Sandy answered, “and the way we’ll handle it, the detective and the prosecutor will have no interest in doing anything like that.”

“Well, you have more faith in the police than I have.”

“Yes, that’s true,” Sandy replied.

He said, “From this moment on, you’re not to discuss anything having to with the case with anyone. Speak to my attorney, is your reply to everything. If anyone persists, I’ll charge him or her with harassment. Is that clear? Any questions?”

“What are the chances this plan will work?”

“You mean with your name never ever getting in the papers? Not very good,” Sandy admitted. “But the chances will be greatly improved if you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“And you guys are willing to do this for me?”

“That’s what Lester is paying us for.”

After the goodbyes, Nigel walked her to the front door. He gave her several of Martin’s business cards should she need them, and wrote his full name in red on the back of one and underlined it. “Call us any time there’s a problem.” They stood at the front door talking for another few minutes before she left.

Nigel came back to Sandy’s office. “You remember when I was talking with Charlene while you were talking with Martin in his office? I thought her quite smart and attractive. You have to like her, or you wouldn’t go the extra mile for her. She‘s rather vulnerable just now—I suppose.”

“I can tell where you’re heading with this, Nigel. She’s one of the issues in this case. I see a conflict with you socializing with her.”

“I was hoping you had no objection. We said a few words to each other. I suppose she might be interested in me. Of course, I’d be discreet.”

“Tell me you aren’t thinking a law office is a great place to meet cool chicks. You need to do your socializing elsewhere. Move on, Nigel. It could take years to wrap up the Lester Bardner case.”

Under his breath, he said, “I can’t wait years.”

A
rriving at the same time the next morning, Sandy and Martin saw Nigel in the office tightly focused on his computer. He greeted them excitedly, “Couldn’t wait for you guys to get here. I’ve something to show you,” he said. “I’ve developed some software that dissects the normally unchangeable address focus of pixels in video frames, into a grid of addresses. I can then access the parts of the pixel on the raster graphics, which otherwise would appear distorted when enlarged to an extreme degree. First, it disassembles each pixel—.”

Martin interrupted. “Speak English.”

“Can we talk later about your new software?” She frowned. “After I have my day under control?”

“I suppose,” but Nigel continued, “you see, I’ve been closely examining the crime scene video—pixel by pixel. I want you to examine the enlarged frame that I just processed. Come look.”

They moved over to view the monitor. They saw a frozen frame of a man, supposedly Lester Bardner standing in the street with a gun pointed at the victim seated in his car, seconds before the shooting. They shrugged their shoulders and looked at Nigel.

“Look closely... look at the victim’s hand.”

They leaned closer.

Martin caught it first. “Something in his hand!”

She didn’t see it. “Where are you guys looking?”

Nigel said, “Look, I’ll blow up that part. See that? That is a gun. I believe the victim was holding a gun in his hand when he was shot. You wouldn’t see it at all if the victim hadn’t suddenly turned toward the window.”

“The victim had what!” Sandy and Martin said in harmony.

A chill went up her spine. “Run that again.”

Nigel ran it back and forth.

“Geez Louise. Did you dummy up that video in any way?”

“No, but the special software I developed can enlarge it with more detail than anyone will believe.”

“If you copy that to a flash-drive will it show up like that on someone else’s computer?”

“Of course. Perhaps I should copyright my software and put it on the market and make a billion bucks.”

“Your billion will have to wait. Copy that to a flash-drive. I’ll get Mel on the phone.”

Martin said, “Wait Sandy. Hold on, let’s get our strategy together.”

“No, this constitutes reasonable doubt of who was threatening who. I want to shock Mel with it right away and go for second-degree. And if that is indeed a gun in the victim’s hand, then what happened to it? Where is it?”

Shapiro came on the line and told her it was a bad time, he’d soon be heading out for an important luncheon. Would be tied up in meetings the rest of the day. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.

“Don’t you dare leave your office. I’m on my way. You must see this. Did you wear socks today?”

“I don’t have time for this, Sandy. And you’ve used that line before—you’re going to knock my socks off.”

She had already hung up.

Within twenty minutes, she was in the courthouse rushing by Shapiro’s office assistant and handing him the flash-drive Nigel had just prepared. “Here are a couple enlarged frames of the crime scene.”

He glanced at his watch. “Couldn’t this wait?”

“You won’t be in any mood to eat after you see this.”

“Well, you haven’t ruined lunch yet. I simply can’t be late.”

“No, it’ll be ruined. You’ll be sick as soon as you see this.” She stood behind him at his desk with her hands on his shoulders while he inserted the flash-drive and brought the video up on his computer.

“Look at this sequence of enlarged video frames. For argument’s sake, let’s say that it is Bardner standing in the street talking to Coleman who is sitting behind the wheel of his parked car with the window down. Now go farther... stop... no, go back... there... that one. Now look closely. The man you say is Lester, is leaning against the car with his left hand and reaching into his coat pocket with his right. We know in the next frame he pulls out a gun... but look Coleman is leaning away slightly, reaching over for something.”

“Or maybe he’s simply stretching.”

“No look! As he turns back toward the window, there’s something in his hand. It could be a gun.”

“Hey, where did you get this? The original video didn’t show any gun. Your man doctored this up somehow.”

“My man will show your man how he did it.”

“Anyway, it could be a phone not a gun. We found a phone in his pocket.”

“You mean a phone with a pistol grip on it? Looks nothing like a phone. And how did it get back in his pocket? After he was shot, he would have dropped it.” She pushed on. “Was anything else found in the front seat?”

He hesitated, then said, “Sit down for a minute.”

As she walked around his desk to the chair, she saw him frowning. “What?”

“CSI found a gun hidden under the front seat.”

“This is the first I’ve heard about a gun found in the victim’s car. I come in here and tell you I believe the victim had a gun in his hand, and then you tell me, yes, there was a gun found in the car. Your case is dead, Mel, this was very likely self-defense.”

“Well, you can’t jump that far.”

“What do you mean hidden under the front seat?”

“Apparently, that’s where the victim kept it. Not unusual.”

“How do you know that’s where he kept it? How do you know it’s not unusual? You can’t prove any of that.” She was delighted, everything seemed to be going her way. “Obviously, the gun fell from his hand and slid under the front seat.”

“It wouldn’t just slide, now would it? It was found under the seat, therefore he didn’t have a chance to retrieve it.”

“I want to examine the police photos that were taken of the body before it was moved from that car.”

“Certainly, but it’s early in the proceeding. Of course, we were preparing all the evidence for you.”

“And I want to see the photos taken of the gun under the seat before CSI touched it.”

He pursed his lips and grimaced.

She repeated, “You heard me. I want to see the photos taken of the gun under the seat before CSI touched it.”

“I don’t believe such photos exist,” he said haltingly.

“Of course they exist. You have a crime scene, and you have a gun laying there. Of course you take photos showing the position of the gun before it’s moved. It’s basic CSI 101.” She mocked him, “Surely, you don’t mean CSI failed to take the photos.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t believe CSI did that. They were searching the vehicle and someone reached under the seat, felt the gun and pulled it out.”

“Now isn’t that so sweet.” Her grin was ear to ear.

“A minor oversight. At any rate, you can’t prove that’s a gun in Coleman’s hand.”

“You’re right, it could have been a candy bar, and he’s offering Bardner a bite.” She leaned back in the chair and crossed her ankles. “I’m telling the jury the evidence shows that the victim had a gun in his car. The video shows him putting something in his hand. His hand was empty when the police found him. No candy bar or any other object was found in the front seat, but a gun was found under the front seat where it might have bounced once he dropped it.”

“Don’t take a victory lap yet, Sandy. You can’t prove the victim ever held that gun.”

“And you can’t prove the victim wasn’t holding a gun. And you can’t prove that the gun under the seat was found in such a position that it could not have slid there if he dropped it because CSI screwed up and didn’t take a photo.”

“Still, the video shows your client shooting his gun. And forensics proves that the victim’s was never fired. Your guy clearly shot him.”

“Even so, if the victim had a gun in his hand and Bardner saw it before he shot, then I can claim it wasn’t premeditated murder. My client was merely defending himself, and as you know in Florida, he doesn’t have to run... he can stand his ground. I assume the phrase Stand Your Ground rings a bell. Sorry, Mel, looks as if that CSI screw up just handed me a victory. Thank you very much. In light of this development, you have to withdraw the charge of first-degree murder against Lester Bardner. You can no longer charge him with first-degree because you cannot prove premeditation.”

“I’m a long way from reducing the charge.”

“Well, I’m requesting a hearing without delay, and we can go before the judge. And the instant the charge is reduced, I’m asking for bail.”

When she returned to the law office, she was surprised to see Detective Jaworski and Charlene Faulk talking with Martin just outside his office. Then she remembered. “Geez, I totally forgot we had scheduled a meeting with you two.” She drew a long breath. “You can handle it without me, do you mind, Martin?”

The purpose of the meeting was to convince the investigating detective that although Charlene Faulk had been the murder suspect’s girlfriend a short time before, she was of no interest to the prosecution in the murder investigation. In short, Martin, as her attorney, was permitting her to answer all questions. This tactic would preclude the police chasing her down, bringing her in for questioning and in general scaring the hell out of her—with the result that she’d ask for an attorney anyway, and they would learn nothing at all from her. Charlene and Martin sat side by side. Her nerves settled down when Eddy assured her he had no interest in hassling her, and Martin assured her that Eddy could be trusted.

The experienced detective promptly determined that it was indeed a simple love affair and that the young woman knew nothing of Lester’s business or acquaintances. The meeting in Martin’s office took less than a half hour.

“Does this mean my name won’t be in the paper and I won’t lose my job?” she wanted to know after the detective had left.

“That’s the way I’d bet,” Martin assured her. “Jaworski isn’t interested in any grandstanding. He’ll quietly make his report. Later, for some procedural reason in the trial, the state attorney may decide to depose you formally under oath, but it will be private and I’ll be with you.”

After chatting for a few minutes with Nigel at the front door, Charlene left smiling.

As soon as she left, Sandy called to Nigel, and they went together into Martin’s office. “We caught a break. CSI found a gun under the seat of Coleman’s car when they removed his body.”

“Under the seat, like hidden?” Martin asked.

“Yes, and Mel will tell the jury it was never touched, over my objection. We’ll argue that he could have had the gun in his hand, dropped it when he was shot, and it slid, bounced, slithered or was accidentally kicked under the seat. In other words, Lester might not have shot an unarmed man. Coleman might have been ready to shoot him.”

Martin said, “That definitely gives us more to talk about and work with, and would raise doubts in the juror’s minds.”

“It supports Nigel’s video showing something in his hand. We will claim it was the gun in his hand and it fell when he was shot, perhaps lodged somehow in his clothing, perhaps fell out when the body was moved,” she hypothesized.

Nigel was frowning. “Fell out, or dropped? Isn’t it more likely he just kept it under the driver’s seat like thousands of other gun owners? Thereby suggesting that it must have been something else in his hand.”

“He’s right,” Martin said, “they can prove they found it under the seat, and you’re stuck with arguing some convoluted theory about how it got there.”

“Except no object other than the gun was found. No, CSI screwed up,” she said. “Probably some CSI technician had trouble seeing under the seat, so he put his hand under there, felt the gun and pulled it out. In short, he disturbed the crime scene. He should have left the gun alone until he could take a photo of it under there. Wait until I get that poor soul on the stand. At the trial, I will demand to see the photo of the gun under the seat, and when the prosecution admits they screwed up, I will be dramatically outraged, there before the jury, that we have to rely on the word of the police that it was ever under there and not on the floor.”

“I’m beginning to see how the defense works,” Nigel said. “You aren’t literally lying, you’re just giving the jury a bunch of ‘what ifs.’”

At the end of that business day, Nigel left and Martin was getting ready to leave. Sandy was still in her office with the door closed. Martin called her name, rapped lightly on the door and heard her invite him. “You’re sitting there running your fingers through your hair. Is that the bond hearing you’re working on? Can I help?”

She shook her head. “I’m finishing up now. I’ve already requested a new hearing. And now I have my arguments ready to present to the judge tomorrow.”

“This has been a very positive day, hasn’t it?”

“No question about it. And if I can get the charge reduced to second-degree, then I’m asking for bail for Lester.”

“I’m certain you’ll get it. I believe this calls for one of our celebratory observances at the Windward Bar.”

“We’ve been too busy. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have my Bloody Mary with.”

“And I’ve missed looking over the top of my martini into the clear hazel eyes of Sandy Reid.”