State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (13 page)

But what if Maxine Crawford had bought it?
What if the witness saw what the cops wanted her to see instead of
the real person who attacked her and Judge Crawford?

Was it possible that this could have been a
case of mistaken identity? Or was this just a clever con by a man
with nothing to lose, except quite possibly his life?

Ortega thought about the evidence he was
aware of so far against Rafael Santiago. It was flimsy at best,
aside from the eyewitness to the crime who also happened to be the
second victim. Being traumatized as Maxine Crawford was could have
affected her ability to get her facts straight.

He fixed his eyes on his client. “You swore
vengeance against Judge Crawford for sending you up the river—” He
left it there to gauge his reaction.

“Man, I swore vengeance against
everyone
back then,” Santiago claimed. “I was mad as hell
about being sent to prison for killing that bitch!”

“You’re saying you were
innocent
of
that, too?” Ortega batted his eyes skeptically.

Santiago snarled. “I killed her, man, all
right! But she deserved it. She was two-timing me with my cousin.
Went and got herself pregnant and expected me to take care of her
and the bastard. Can you believe that?” He furrowed his mouth
wickedly. “I’d have killed my homey, too, but he got away before I
could put a bullet between his eyes!”

Santiago pretended as if he was doing just
that—aiming his hands at Ortega’s face. The attorney was not
impressed. “So what about your threats against Crawford?”

“Just empty words, man,” Santiago said
tonelessly. “I said what I felt at the time, but it don’t mean I
spent the last twelve years of my life just waiting to get out to
do in the judge and bang his woman.”

Perhaps not, considered Ortega. Or, he may
have done just that, putting the suspect in the unenviable position
he was in at the moment. It would ultimately be up to the courts to
decide.

And his skills as an attorney.

“I’ll do what I can to help you, Rafael,” he
said honestly. “All I ask is that you be straight with me all the
way. Deal?”

For the first time Santiago grinned.
“Deal.”

Ortega reached across the table and shook the
prisoner’s hand. It was cold as ice, much like his eyes. Was that
an indication that this one was slated to be a frigid case all the
way?

“Can you get me outta here, man?” Santiago
looked at him without blinking, as if he believed it was truly
possible.

Ortega was all business when he stood and
said, “The arraignment is Monday. It’s highly unlikely there will
be any bail for you.”

“Why not?” Santiago’s jaw dropped. “What
about innocent till
proven
guilty?”

He was serious.
Ortega raised a brow.
“You’ve already been down this road,” he advised. “I’m afraid all
ex cons are presumed guilty until proven innocent.”

Santiago seemed to have trouble digesting his
situation. Ortega found this bizarre, considering he highly doubted
the man would be able to raise the money anyhow for what could only
be a bail well out of his reach.

“The most we can hope for is that adequate
security will be in place at the courthouse,” Ortega told his
client candidly. “After all, we are talking about the murder of a
popular judge. And many people can be unforgiving—”

He wondered if Rafael Santiago was one of
those people.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stone read the autopsy report. The victim,
Adrienne Murray, had been strangled, crushing her windpipe. She had
also been beaten, stabbed repeatedly, raped, and sodomized. There
was semen inside her, along with strands of hair, presumably from
her attacker’s pubic area. She had also been worked over pretty
good. This usually indicated more than a stranger attack. It was
almost always personal when the victim was beaten up. Almost as if
to punish her for the rage of the one who wanted her dead.

“Here’s a list of all the people who work in
the building,” Chang provided, sliding it across Stone’s desk.
“Can’t say there’s anything unusual here. Not even a criminal
record amongst them.”

“Some criminals don’t have records,” Stone
muttered, admitting to himself that it didn’t look to be an inside
job. But looks could be deceiving. “Dig deeper,” he ordered just to
be on the safe side in leaving no stones unturned. “Check out
everyone and anyone who may have been associated or involved with
employees there—boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, sons,
whatever... Maybe we’ll get lucky—”

Unlike Adrienne Murray.

Chang frowned. “Sounds like a lot of
work.”

“That’s what we’re paid for, man,” Stone
reminded him. Few cases were as cut and dried as often portrayed on
TV cop shows. Usually just the opposite.

Chang rubbed his nose. “Whoever killed
Adrienne Murray is probably someone she ran into in the park,” he
suggested. “That’s where we should be concentrating our
efforts.”

Stone was not about to be told how to conduct
an investigation. Not when, as the lead detective on the case, it
was mainly his neck on the line if he failed to make an arrest for
Adrienne Murray’s murder. Or worse, set their sights on the wrong
perpetrator. But he also wanted to keep the peace with his
partner.

“Why don’t we try this my way first, Chang,”
he said, holding his gaze. “My gut tells me that what we’re looking
for is right before our eyes. We just have to find the connection
and go from there.”

Chang gave him a pacifying nod before heading
out the door. Stone stopped him when he said, “Oh, one other
thing... Have someone check out the pawnshops in town. Adrienne was
wearing an expensive wedding and engagement ring, along with a
Seiko watch. All were missing when her body was found. We have a
photograph of her wearing these. Shouldn’t be too hard to make a
match if we find them. Maybe her killer decided to try and sell the
jewelry.”

It was a long shot. The rings and watch could
have somehow found their way to the bottom of the lake. Or Adrienne
could have taken them off when she went jogging, in spite of
Chuck’s insistence otherwise. The fact was, they weren’t found
amongst the victim’s possessions at work or in her car.

* * *

That afternoon Stone was visited by an
attractive young woman named Erica Flanagan, who claimed to be
Adrienne Murray’s best friend.

“How can I help you?” Stone feigned
disinterest, but it was just the opposite.

“I’m here to see what you’re doing about
bringing Adrienne’s killer to justice.”

Stone surveyed the tall woman. She had
shoulder length black hair, pale skin, blue eyes, and a petulant
pout. A hand was rested precariously on her hip. Her leather outfit
was something he could imagine his daughter Carla wearing, to his
discontentment.

“The investigation is ongoing,” he told her
politely. “If there’s something you know about Ms. Murray’s death,
I’d be happy to hear it.”

Erica looked as if she were ready to explode.
“I know her husband had something to do with Adrienne’s death,” she
said without preamble.

Stone reacted to the passion in which she
spat this out. “What makes you think Murray had anything to do with
his wife’s murder?” he asked bluntly.

Erica rolled her eyes. “Because Chuck was
insanely
jealous of her. He thought Adrienne was sleeping
around with every man she knew. And even those she didn’t know. He
wanted to know everything Adrienne did, who she did it with, where
she went for lunch at work, what she had to eat—everything! He even
followed her around sometimes to make sure Adrienne did exactly
what she told him she was doing—”

“That definitely sounds obsessive,”
acknowledged Stone, “maybe even sick. But that doesn’t prove Chuck
Murray wanted his wife dead. Or that he murdered her.”
It has
gotten my attention, though, and speaks of possible motive.

“What other proof do you need?” Erica’s lower
lip dropped. “The man is
crazy
. He threatened Adrienne all
the time...told her that if she ever even thought about leaving
him, he would kill her.”

Stone propped his elbows on the desk. “Did
she take these threats seriously?”

“Adrienne was scared to death of him,” Erica
insisted.

“Did she ever consider leaving him?”

“A thousand times. But each time she would
back off for fear of what he might do.”

Stone chewed on his lip. Very interesting and
disturbing, if true. He could imagine Murray having a psychological
and physical hold over his wife, fearing the possibility of losing
her and deciding he couldn’t allow that to happen.

“Was Murray physically abusing Adrienne?” he
asked, recalling the multiple bruises found on her body. The
assumption had been that most were very recent and likely caused by
her assailant. But what if some had come before the attack?

“She tried to deny it,” Erica said, “but many
times she would show up at my house with black eyes and purple
blotches on her arms and legs. She always said that she had bumped
into a wall or tripped over her own two feet.”

“But you didn’t believe it?”

“Would you?” she sneered.

Not in a million years.
Stone had
witnessed firsthand his father abusing his mother. In those days it
was considered strictly a family issue. Hence, no one else knew
about it and those who did weren’t talking. But there was no place
for domestic violence in today’s world, even if it continued to
happen.

Stone was beginning to believe that Chuck was
a wife beater and a bully. Was he also a rapist? And murderer?

“Was Adrienne having an affair?” he
asked.

Erica practically jumped from her chair. “No
way!” she exclaimed. “She wouldn’t have dared cheat on him.
Adrienne was too afraid for her life to ever consider being with
another man.”

“How about a woman?” Stone couldn’t rule out
that she could have been Adrienne’s lesbian lover and not just her
platonic best friend.

Erica’s eyes widened. “If you’re asking if
Adrienne was bisexual, the answer is no.” She sighed. “And, just
for the record, I’m straight, too.”

Stone smiled faintly, while making a mental
note.

“Thank you, Ms. Flanagan, for coming in and
providing me with this information,” he told her sincerely. “I’m
sure it will be quite helpful in the investigation.” As far as he
was concerned, it was more than enough to take a much stronger look
at Chuck Murray in connection with his wife’s death.

“Are you going to arrest Chuck?” Erica batted
her lashes impatiently.

If only it were that simple. “First we need
to verify the facts...” Stone almost hated to say.

“I have absolutely no reason to lie,
Detective!” Erica snapped.

“No one is accusing you of lying about
anything, Ms. Flanagan.”
Not yet anyway
.

She began to cry. “I just don’t want to see
Adrienne put into the ground like forever, while her killer gets
off scot-free.”

Stone handed her a Kleenex. “If Adrienne’s
husband killed her, I promise you he won’t get off scot-free,” he
said earnestly. “Not if I have anything to do with it!”

Right now he had everything to do with
it.

And the same could be said for Chuck
Murray.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Just say here comes the judge,” Grant said
gleefully, as he embraced Beverly and did a little dance.

“When?” she asked, feigning total shock. They
were in his office. He’d called her in, claiming it was for some
unfinished paperwork.

“The call came from the governor himself this
morning. He needed a replacement for Judge Crawford and asked if I
was interested. I told him I would have to think about it.” Grant
made a comical face. “Two seconds later, I said hell yes!”

“I’m so happy for you, Grant,” Beverly said,
and kissed him on the mouth. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine judge,
even if we’ll miss you around here more than anyone will admit.
Except for me.”

Grant laughed. “Didn’t you know—they’ve been
trying to get rid of me for years. Now I’m granting them their
wish.” He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms. “As for you,
my dear, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily. I intend to
make sure you’re never too far to miss me.”

“Promise?” She didn’t want his promotion to
have an adverse effect on their relationship. And why should
it?

It wasn’t as if he was headed to Washington,
though that suddenly didn’t seem so far-fetched. Beverly wondered
if Grant might someday decide to run for the Senate. Or even try
his hand at the White House.

“You have my word as a gentleman who adores
you, lady,” Grant said positively. He didn’t even want to think
about anything else that could cause a rift between them. Not today
anyway. “In fact, I’d say that this calls for a celebration. I want
to take you and Jaime out to dinner tonight.”

“Oh, Grant,” Beverly hummed regrettably. “We
can’t—not tonight. I promised Jaime I’d take him to the video store
to pick out a couple of movies.” Also, she didn’t know how Jaime
would feel about going anywhere with Grant. But she knew they would
have to make an effort to get along at some point, if Grant was to
remain a vital part of her life. “How about Friday night?” she
asked. “If you don’t have any plans.”

“Nothing that can’t be changed,” Grant was
quick to say. “Friday night it is.”

“Good.” Beverly smiled and kissed him again,
then used her finger to wipe lipstick from his mouth. “Now, Judge
Nunez, I hate to leave so abruptly, but I have to prepare for an
arraignment this afternoon.”

Grant frowned. “You mean the Santiago
case?”

She nodded.

“Do you know who’s representing him?”

“I’ve heard that K. Conrad Ortega from the
public defender’s office was assigned the case.”