Justice for Hire (2 page)

“I’ve watched you, Dad. It doesn’t look that hard.” He flexed a small bicep. “I think I can push that thing around.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you could, but it’s a little dangerous.”

“You could get hurt,” Annie put in, and then wondered if she was a little overprotective.

Matty shrugged one shoulder and took the last bite of his toast. “Thanks for breakfast, Mom,” he said, as his fork clattered onto the empty plate. He charged from the room to get ready for school.

Jake helped Annie clean up the table and put the dishes in the sink. At six foot four inches, he towered over her by a foot as he leaned and gave her a quick peck on the lips. It became an extended kiss as she held onto him; thankful it had been her luck to meet such an amazing guy.

Without notice, Matty popped back into the room and whipped open the fridge. He grabbed his lunch from the middle shelf, flipped open his backpack, dropped the bag inside, and slung it over his back. “See you later, guys,” he said, and turned to leave.

“Hey, come back here,” Annie said.

Matty trudged over to his mom, looked up, turned his head and waited while she planted a kiss.

“You can go now,” she said.

Annie watched as Matty wandered from the room. She frowned. “Do you think he’s getting too old to kiss me?”

Jake shrugged. “Maybe.” He pulled her a little closer. “But I’m not.”

Chapter 3

Monday, August 22nd, 2:45 PM

JAKE WAS FINISHING an afternoon snack when the office phone rang. He wiped his hands and dashed from the kitchen, through the living room to the office. He dropped into a chair behind the desk and swooped up the phone.

“Lincoln Investigations.”

“Hello, are you the investigator? I was told to call you . . . my daughter . . . it’s my daughter. They . . . they said she killed someone, and I don’t know what to do. It’s not true. I know it’s not. Please help . . .”

Jake cut her off. “Ma’am, calm down, ma’am.”

Silence on the line, and then Jake continued, “We’ll do our best to help you. Everything will be alright, but please, take a deep breath and explain what happened.”

Jake heard her breathe, and then, “My name is Cara Waters. My . . . my daughter was arrested and they said she killed someone, but she couldn’t have.”

“We’ll certainly look into it for you, and do what we can, but perhaps you would be better off with a lawyer?”

“Yes, yes, we’ve talked to a lawyer, but we’re sure Cheryl, my daughter, didn’t kill anyone. We need you to find out what this is all about. They say there are witnesses, but it just doesn’t make sense.”

Jake paused. “My wife and I will come and see you. When would be a good time?”

“As soon as possible, please.”

“Then we’ll come right away.”

He made a note of her address and arranged to be there by 3:30. His brow wrinkled in thought as he hung up the phone. If there are solid witnesses, how can the girl’s mother think her daughter didn’t kill anyone?”

Annie was next door at her friend Chrissy’s. He dialed her cell and filled her in. “You may want to ask Chrissy to watch for Matty. He’ll be home from school soon and we won’t be here.”

Matty, and Chrissy’s son Kyle were the best of friends, and Chrissy was always eager to watch Matty if the Lincolns needed an urgent babysitter. Matty and Kyle hung around together most of their free time anyway, and Matty knew if he came home and his parents weren’t there, he should go next door.

Jake slouched back in the swivel chair, dropped one foot on the desk and twiddled the pen. Another murder case. He’d hoped they would have something a little safer to do for a while, but a client was a client, and she sounded desperate.

The small office was sparse. A couple of bookcases contained a set of encyclopedias as well as a few law books and manuals, gathering dust, the internet being their main source of research now. An iMac sat on the desk, Annie’s favorite tool. A filing cabinet with a printer perched on top, and a couple of extra chairs made up the rest of room’s contents.

When Jake heard the front door open, he stood and went to meet Annie.

“Just let me grab what I need,” she said, as she went to the kitchen and returned with a handbag. Jake knew it contained her notepad and pen along with a small digital recorder and other items she couldn’t live without.

“We’ll take your car,” he said. “The Firebird’s in the garage, and we’re only going a few blocks.”

Annie flipped her keys from a ring by the front door and followed Jake out. They jumped into her Ford Escort and she turned the key. She looked at Jake with a teasing smile. “The engine doesn’t scratch any more.”

Jake laughed. “I just adjusted your fan belt. That’s all it was.”

Annie dropped the shifter and they pulled from the driveway. Jake gave her directions as they drove, and in a few minutes, they pulled in front of the Waters’ house and stepped out.

It was a typical Canadian home. A single car garage in front, a well-kept lawn with a few flowers and bushes sprinkled up the edge of the pathway and along the front of the house. A red Subaru sat in the driveway.

They walked up the short stone walkway to the front door and rang the bell.

The stress Mrs. Waters had endured for the last few hours was obvious when she opened the door. The strain shrouded her pudgy face, as she asked, “Are you the Lincolns?”

Annie nodded. “We are.”

She invited them in and motioned toward the front room. Mr. Waters stood and approached as they entered. “I’m Harold Waters,” he said, as he gestured toward a couch under the front window. “Have a seat.”

Jake and Annie sat while Mrs. Waters perched on a straight-backed wooden chair and crossed her legs, her hands working nervously. Mr. Waters dropped into an armchair and leaned back comfortably.

Annie slipped the recorder from her bag. “Do you mind if I record this?” she asked, as she set it on the coffee table in front of them.

Mr. Waters nodded and waved his hand. “Sure.”

Jake studied Harold Waters. Though not as big around as his wife, he could afford to drop a few pounds. He had short, reddish hair, and his matching beard was ragged, and probably hadn’t been trimmed for several days. He looked to be in his mid-forties, perhaps a couple of years older than his wife.

“Tell us what happened with your daughter,” Annie said.

The distraught couple exchanged a glance. Mr. Waters spoke. “Our daughter went missing eight months ago. She’s nineteen now, and for the last three or four years she hasn’t lived here, with us. She has always been rather flighty and irresponsible, and would be away for long periods, without a word from her, but usually only for a few weeks. When she disappeared eight months ago, we began to be concerned after a couple of months, so we reported her missing. The police were unable to find any trace of her.”

“Until today,” Mrs. Water interrupted. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. “They said she killed someone. But she didn’t. I know she didn’t.”

Mr. Waters reached out and touched his wife’s hand. “It’s ok dear, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Mrs. Waters sighed and dropped her head a moment, and then looked up again, but remained silent.

“So now your daughter is back?” Jake asked.

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Waters said. “She’s been arrested. We haven’t been allowed to talk to her yet. They only let us look through a window, and it’s her.” His voice quivered as he continued, “She’s in jail. According to the police, two witnesses said she walked into an office and shot someone. They called the police and she was arrested.”

Jake crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. “Your wife mentioned you’ve seen a lawyer?”

“Yes, a legal aid lawyer, a public defender. He talked to Cheryl briefly, and she gave him her name, and he called us.” Mr. Waters said, with a quick glance at his wife. “I’m afraid we can’t afford a real lawyer.”

Jake sat back. He knew public defenders were real lawyers, but they could only put up a basic defense, with no resources to do in-depth investigating.

“Our daughter has always been somewhat of a free spirit,” Mr. Waters continued, “but she’s a good girl. She has never shown any tendency toward violence of any kind. Rather the opposite. She loves kids, animals, and everything else. This isn’t like her at all. There has to be another answer.”

“We’ll talk to your daughter,” Annie said. “That’s our first step. We’ll see what she has to say, and then we’ll get a copy of the police report and talk to the witnesses.”

“Can you get this sorted out?” Mrs. Waters asked.

Annie gave her a calming smile. “We can’t promise anything, Mrs. Waters, but we’ll give this top priority. We’ll know more after we talk to Cheryl.”

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Jake asked.

“That’s all we know,” Mr. Waters said. “Like I said, we haven’t been able to talk to Cheryl yet.” He moistened his lips. “I hope they’ll let you see her.”

“They will,” Annie said. “Cheryl is entitled to the best defense possible.” She flashed a smile. “Besides, we know a lot of the police officers.”

Jake leaned forward. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll get on this right away.”

“That’s all I can think of,” Mr. Waters said.

Jake stood and dug a business card from his top pocket. He handed it to Mr. Waters. “If there’s anything else, give us a call.”

Annie leaned forward and picked up the recorder. She snapped it off, dropped it in her handbag and stood.

They shook hands and Mr. Waters followed them to the door.

“We’ll let you know what we come up with,” Jake said, as they stepped outside. The door closed behind them and they made their way down the driveway and climbed into the Escort.

“It looks pretty grim,” Jake said, as he glanced at Annie.

Annie keyed the engine and nodded. “Very grim, indeed.”

Chapter 4

Monday, August 22nd, 3:35 PM

DETECTIVE HANK CORNING had never seen a more curious case.

He dropped the report on his desk and slouched back, gazing vaguely across the precinct, unaware of the constant buzz of bustling officers occupied with their tasks. An air conditioner rattled nearby in a useless attempt to cool the air. The ringing of phones and the tramping of duty boots on the wooden floor went unnoticed as Hank contemplated the facts.

He’d interviewed Cheryl Waters extensively and was convinced she was either a good liar, or telling the truth and unaware of what she’d done.

He’d been puzzling over this case for the last four hours. He’d talked to Cheryl’s parents, and neither of them knew Charles Robinson. He couldn’t find a motive, and he couldn’t find a connection between Robinson and the killer.

But the facts were clear. Cheryl Waters killed a man in cold blood. She didn’t fit the profile of a cold-blooded killer, and Hank was puzzled.

A light vibration at his hip brought him out of his thoughts. He slipped his phone from its holder and looked at the caller ID.

“Hey, Jake. What’s up?”

“Afternoon, Hank. How’s everything?”

“Good,” Hank replied. “I bet I know why you’re calling. It’s Cheryl Waters, right?”

“We just got back from interviewing her parents. How’d you know?”

“I gave Cheryl's parents your number and recommended they call you. They’re going to need all the help they can get on this. I don’t know what you can do, though. There’s no disputing, Cheryl killed the guy, but her parents were adamant there’s more to this.”

“I don’t think they’re disputing it,” Jake said. “But they want to find out what it’s all about. They’ve been unable to see their daughter, and they don’t expect much of a defense from their lawyer.”

“I need to get out of this place for a while. I can drop a copy of the police report over to you if you want. That may give you somewhere to start, but it’s a tough one.”

“That would be great,” Jake said. “We’re at home now if you want to come by.”

“See you soon.”

Hank dropped the phone back into its holster and leaned forward. He scooped up the papers from his desk, dropped them into a file folder, stood and carried them across the room to the photocopier against the back wall. He made a copy of the report, returned to his desk and slipped the copies into his briefcase.

When he stepped outside, he was greeted by a refreshing breeze, a welcome change to the stifling atmosphere inside the precinct. He went behind the building and climbed into his 2008 Chevy. The engine cranked a couple of times when he turned the key, and then settled into a steady purr.

As he drove across town, he considered the circumstances of this case. As head of Richmond Hill’s robbery/homicide division, he knew he must pursue any solid leads, but the captain would only cut him a limited amount of slack. His job was to report the facts and let the crown prosecute. He wasn’t free to pursue unfounded leads in the search for exculpatory evidence. That would be up to the defense.

He hoped Jake and Annie could come up with something. Though the Lincolns were rookie investigators, Hank had confidence they could do better than most in digging out the truth. He’d known them for more years than he could remember. He and Jake had been teammates on the high school football team, and had been friends since. Annie and Jake had been seeing a lot of each other at the time, and they both decided to go to the University of Toronto while Hank wanted to be a cop.

In a few minutes, he turned onto Carver Street and spun into the driveway behind Annie’s Escort. He grabbed his briefcase, hopped out and went to the front door.

Jake answered his ring with a grin. “Come on in.” As Hank stepped inside, Jake slugged him on the shoulder and pushed him toward the kitchen. “If you’re feeling brave, I just made a fresh pot of coffee. You can let me know how it tastes.”

Annie greeted Hank and poured three steaming cups, while the guys made themselves comfortable at the table. She passed the coffee around, brought some cream and sugar, and then sat at the end and leaned forward, her arms resting on the table.