Burners (15 page)

“What do you think?”

“I’d want to know where the body was discovered.” Jack said.

So did I. “Officer James?”

“The victim was found face down behind the counter.”

“How far is the counter from the front door?” I asked, and watched James’ head swivel back and forth from me to Lebanon and back again.

“Maybe thirty feet,” James said, his eyes on Lebanon.

“I’ve been in a fire,” Jack said. “Your one overwhelming urge is to get the hell out. That’s what Braun would have done, had he been conscious and able. He wouldn’t have waited around until he died of smoke inhalation. He would have run out the front door.”

“Unless something prevented him from doing that. Something like a blow to the back of the head,” I added.

“Which was caused by a ceiling beam that collapsed, like Officer James said,” Lebanon, still trying to find a winning card in the losing hand he’d been dealt.

“Officer James, was the deceased found under that collapsed beam?”

“No, one room over. We believe he tried to make it the door, but couldn’t. Then the smoke got him.”

That seemed plausible, but I still wasn’t buying. “So Braun stuck around until the fire was so out of control a beam collapsed? All the while choking on smoke?”

James didn’t reply, but I could tell by his expression that he didn’t like me much.

“I think I can settle all of this once I call my next witness,” I said.

Jack seemed surprised. “Next witness?”

I turned to face the gallery. “I call Mr. Joel Luzinsky to the stand.”

It wasn’t hard to spot Luzinsky. Not only was he the biggest guy in the courtroom, but he was also one of the few people who didn’t cower when Carlos pulled out the weapon. Must’ve been the marine training.

Even when Carlos fired the warning shot to stop Officer James, Luzinsky’s first concern, his instinctive response, was to tell Alice Braun to get down.

“What do you want from me?” he said in a voice that matched his stature.

I walked toward the gallery, and decided to take a direct approach.

“I want to ask you about the affair you’ve been having with Alice Braun.”

A collective gasp filled the courtroom. I looked back at Jack. She was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

“I’ve seen the non-verbal exchanges between the two of you, and how she was your first concern when all hell broke loose in the courtroom. No offense, Carlos.”

“It’s okay.”

Luzinsky slowly stood, and I started to turn toward Jack, anticipating the big man taking the stand. But that never happened.

“It’s not an affair,” Luzinsky said, then turned to look at Alice Braun, whose eyes were glassy with tears. A wave of not-so-quiet conversation filled the courtroom, prompting Luzinsky to raise his suddenly unsteady voice. “We’re in love, we have been for more than a year, and I don’t care who knows it. I’m proud of our love!”

Another gasp.

I considered asking him again to take the stand, then thought better of it. Figured Luzinsky would be more candid right where he was.

He looked away from the widow, down to his shoes, and when the crowd had quieted, he continued.

“I tried to talk to Dennis about it. Tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t listen. He came at me with a huge roll of paper. I hit him. Hit him hard and he fell back. He just laid there on the table, didn’t move at all.”

“He was dead?” I asked.

“I thought I’d killed him. Then his eyes snapped open, had a crazy look in them. That’s when I slugged him again, even harder. His head slammed against the iron handle of that giant paper cutter he had in the shop.”

I looked over at Alice Braun. She was sobbing, her head turned away from Luzinsky, who wasn’t finished yet.

“He was dead that time.”

“So, you killed him?”

“Yeah, I killed him.”

“He did?” I heard Jack say behind me. Her eyes weren’t rolling anymore.

“Yes, he did,” I responded, nodding.

I was thinking about the best way to get Carlos to give me his gun so that I could turn this whole mess over to the authorities, when Luzinsky finished his statement.

“But I didn’t start that fire. I had nothing to do with that.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, he didn’t,” it was Jack again, this time she was shaking her head.

From the direction of the jury box I heard someone say, “Wow.” I turned and saw Bob mesmerized, his mouth open so wide that I thought he might be hyperventilating. He’d likely pass out if this got any more exciting.

And then it did.

A gunshot exploded in the courtroom and I saw Carlos Beniquez’s body spew blood that splashed onto the defense table, the attorneys, and all over Tony’s shirt.

For an instant, Carlos’ eyes grew wide. Then his body went limp and he dropped the gun, an instant before collapsing to the floor.

That’s when things really turned crazy.

  
 

M
alvo.

The shot came from the judge’s bench, and when I looked I saw the old guy standing there, one hand pressed to his kidney, the other extended toward Carlos and ending in a revolver.

Movement, on the floor to my right.

It was Officer James, scrambling on all fours, going for Carlos’ dropped weapon. He was closer to it than I was.

Things had gone from bad, to worse.

“Give me the gun, Your Honor,” I said, standing up and reaching out to him.

Malvo appeared to be somewhere between confused and shocked.

“I did what I had to do,” the judge said in a monotone. “The man was holding us hostage.”

“The gun.”

By this time, James had secured Carlos’ weapon, and the bailiff was approaching them, handcuffs in hand. Lewis had made his way over to Luzinsky, and they were in heated conversation.

“I didn’t want anyone to get hurt,” Malvo said to no one in particular. “So I waited until he was distracted, and—”

“Give me the gun!” I yelled.

Malvo startled, then handed it over. It was a .32 Smith and Wesson snubby, five still in the cylinder.

“Papa! Are you okay? Papa!”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Chapa wrestling with Tony, trying to keep him from rushing to his father. A smart move—James now had Carlos’ gun, and his angry expression telegraphed his intent to use it on whoever gave him an excuse.

The courtroom had erupted into chaos. Screaming. Shouting. Movement everywhere. Many ran outside. Some—mostly press—stuck around, frantically scribbling on notepads or scrambling to get a quote.

“Someone call an ambulance!” I yelled over the din.

James stood up, the gun at his side, and stared at Luzinsky.

Luzinsky looked terrified, and he was frantically shaking his head
no
.

I left my vantage point on the stand and intercepted James as he made his way toward Luzinsky and Lewis.

“Get out of my way, Lieutenant.”

He was bigger than me, and more important, his gun was bigger than mine. The .32 looked like a child’s toy compared to Carlos’ semi-auto .45.

“Shouldn’t you be securing your prisoners, James?”

He looked to Luzinsky, and back to me. A frown creased his face.

“You’re in no position to give orders, lady. This isn’t your beat.”

He tried to walk around me. If I wanted to do the smart thing, I should have let him pass. He had a gun. This was his jurisdiction. Any suspicions I had could wait until later, when things cooled down.

But instead, I stepped in front of him.

Sometimes the smart thing had to take a back seat to the right thing.

“It’s over, James.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The fires. You’ve got this whole town scared. But Luzinsky has a murder wrap over him. He’s going away for a long time. You don’t think he’ll spill everything to get a reduced charge? He wants to get out of jail while he’s still young enough to be with his mistress. That means he’ll sell out you, Lewis, and your whole bunch.”

James actually snarled. “You little bitch. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I’ve got a story for you, Alex,” I said to Chapa without breaking eye-contact with James.

Chapa, had given up wrangling a hysterical teenager, and was two steps behind James, listening to our exchange. Bringing a reporter into this would make it less likely for James to do anything stupid.

At least, that was the hope.

“You know who is starting the fires,” Chapa stated.

“Watch Officer James’ face while I lay it all out. He and his partner didn’t get those nice suits on their civil servants salaries. Instead, they’re extorting money from the local shop keepers.”

Chapa nodded slowly. “The old protection racket.”

“Exactly. And if people don’t pay up…”

“They get burned,” Chapa finished. He appeared to be looking around for something. “May I quote you, Lieutenant?”

“Sure. And it gets better. Officer Nicholas James broke into my room early this morning and threatened me.”

James’ right eye twitched.

“He wore a mask and gloves, and he disguised his voice. But he made a big mistake. Want to know what your mistake was, Nick?”

He stayed silent, refusing to be baited. “Your Rolex. It’s a Submariner, used for scuba diving. So it has luminous dials that glow green in the dark. I saw a flash of green when you were leaving my room. Had to be you, because your partner wears a Movado. Movados don’t glow.”

James had turned a bright shade of red, and his body hummed with obvious rage. I knew he was looking for an opening, any opportunity to raise his weapon. If he did that, I’d have to match his movements. Then things could turn really ugly really fast.

“Care to make a statement, Officer James?” Chapa asked, as he retreated a few steps.

“You can’t prove any of that,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I can prove enough to get a warrant. They’ll look at your bank account, and all the nice things you have. They’ll find the money, one way or another. And once Luzinsky talks, other merchants will follow.”

James seemed ready to pounce.

“Throttle down, Officer,” I ordered. “It’s over. You try anything right now, it’ll only be worse for you later on down the line.”

I stared him down, and for a moment I thought he was ready to give himself up. Then—