Tribal Court (11 page)

Chapter 21

Part II of Team David had to wait for the next day when Brunelle clacked down the same basement hallway beneath the Seattle P.D. headquarters. Chen pushed himself up from his spot leaning on the evidence room's front counter.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he quipped.

"Beats standing over a dead body in the rain," Brunelle replied as he reached the counter.

Chen shrugged. "Depends on what you're into."

"I'm into dry," Brunelle said. "Thanks for making time to go through the evidence with me. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so, but it's gotta get done. The omnibus hearing is in two weeks."

"Can't you lawyers speak English?" Chen teased. "Why do they call it an 'omnibus' hearing?"

Brunelle rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I think 'omni' is Latin for everything. When I first started, an old lawyer told me it was the hearing where the judge made sure everything was on the bus and the bus is ready to leave the station. All pretrial motions are done, witness lists exchanged, witness interviews completed. Everything. So trial can start as scheduled, with no lawyers asking for a continuance because the dog ate their homework."

Chen raised an eyebrow. "And how much of all that have you done yet?"

"None of it," Brunelle groaned. "Except maybe an awkward half-assed interview of the defense's star 'the-bastard-deserved-it' witness."

"The bastard did deserve it," Chen said.

"And you can shut up now," Brunelle shot back amicably. "Let's focus on what we're here to do, not on why we shouldn't bother. Evidence viewing. It's the first thing I do. You never know what you might find, and you want to lay eyes on all the shit people are going to talk about in their interviews."

"Makes sense," Chen replied. He tapped on the plexiglass. "Detective Chen and Prosecutor Brunelle here for our scheduled evidence viewing."

An evidence technician scurried to the window. This time it was a woman. Youngish, straight brown hair. "You got it, Detective. I've already put some of the items in the viewing room. You can go on in there. I'll bring in the rest in just a minute."

Chen thanked the officer and he and Brunelle walked the few feet to the evidence viewing room. They each pulled on a pair of latex gloves and Chen started thumbing through the numerous paper bags and boxes marked with only a case number and item number.

"What do you want to look at first?" he asked Brunelle.

"Let's start with the clothing," Brunelle answered. "The M.E. should have brought those over after the autopsy. I want to inspect the knife cuts. And check the pockets."

Chen referred to the property sheets then found the bags 'Items 42-44.' "Here you go. 'Clothes from autopsy.'"

"Great." Brunelle took them to the examining table, trying to decide whether to start with the cuts to the shirts or the contents of the pants pockets.

"Oh." Chen held up a lunch sack sized bag. "And here's his wallet."

Decision made
. "Let's start there," Brunelle said. "Open the bag and let's see what Georgie Boy found important enough to keep in his wallet."

Chen extricated the wallet and handed it to Brunelle, who unfolded it and began extracting cards and bits of paper.

"Debit card," he called out the items as he removed them. "Grocery store receipt. Liquor store receipt. Expired glasses prescription. Bus transfer. Card from the mission."

He paused at the next one.

"What is it?" Chen asked.

Brunelle handed it to him. "It's a business card from a Seattle P.D. detective. 'James Henderson.' Why would he have that? Is that who he was supposed to register with?"

Chen frowned at the card, turning it over in his hand. "No, Henderson is one of our gang detectives. Young guy. They make the old farts pull registration duty."

"Gang detective?" Brunelle questioned. "Why would Traver have a gang detective's card?"

Chen held it up. "It's in good shape too. Not as beat up as the other crap in that wallet. He hadn't had it for long."

Just then, the evidence officer walked in with an armful of evidence bags and boxes. "Here's the rest of the stuff."

"Let me help you." Brunelle jumped in to take the less stable items off the top of the teetering pile.

"Thanks," the officer exhaled. She set her remaining load on the examining table. Brunelle went to follow suit, then noticed he was holding an oblong box labeled, "Item 1 - Knife - Biohazard."

It was too heavy to be empty.

His eyes widened. "What the hell is this?"

The officer squinted at the writing on the box. "That's the knife."

"The knife?" Chen looked up from his examination of Det. Henderson's card.

"Sure," the evidence officer replied. "Says so right there. Besides, I recognize the box."

Brunelle looked at Chen, then back at the young officer. "You recognize the box?"

"Yeah," she explained. "Another prosecutor came to look at it a while back. He didn't bring a detective like you, so I just went ahead and did the viewing with him. He just wanted to see the one thing, so I figured it would be okay."

She pointed to some red evidence tape on the box. "See, those are my initials from when I resealed it after the viewing."

Brunelle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We were here a few days ago and the evidence officer then told us that the knife had been checked out and never returned."

The officer frowned. "No, it never left. Although I had a heck of a time finding it just now. Somebody misplaced it with an entirely different case. An arson investigation from six months ago—still unsolved."

"Why would he say it was checked out and not returned?" Chen pressed.

The officer picked up the original property sheets from the table and examined them. "He probably just misread my stamp. If it's just a quick viewing and the item never leaves the front area, I only have them sign once. Just to show that it was looked at. There's no chain of custody issue because it never left my hands. So, really, why have them sign twice?"

"Why have them sign twice?" Brunelle almost shouted. "I'll tell you wh—"

"Understood, officer," Chen stepped in. "Thanks for explaining that. Do you remember anything else about the viewing? Did the other prosecutor say anything?"

The young woman took a moment to pull suspicious eyes from the still-glaring Brunelle. "Not really," she answered. "He didn't even touch it. He just had me hold it up to him so he could see the handle. It was a really nice handle, all intricate and carved and stuff." She paused and looked back to Brunelle. "You should look at it."

Brunelle closed his eyes again and nodded. "Yes. Yes, we should. Thanks."

Chen thanked the evidence officer too and she hurried back to her post, leaving the knife on the table.

Brunelle opened his eyes and laid a finger lightly on the box. "Damn it," he whispered.

Chen put a hand on his shoulder. "Agreed."

Chapter 22

Sure enough, the knife was in the box, still strapped in with the original zip-ties. The handle was impressive indeed. Ivory and covered in Native American carvings and inscriptions, the significance of which Brunelle and Chen could only guess.

Brunelle added 'Native American murder weapon carved handle expert' to his mental witness list. Then they plodded through the rest of the evidence viewing. Brunelle tried to focus on the task at hand, but couldn't help but recall how fervently Freddy had denied taking the knife. And how fervently Brunelle had insisted he had.

But after the initial excitement of the gang detective's business card, and the horror of the not-missing knife, the evidence viewing revealed little of interest. They pulled off their gloves and called for the evidence officer to repackage the items.

Then they went upstairs to meet Detective James Henderson.

"Jimmy Henderson," the detective introduced himself as he shook Brunelle's hand. "Nice to meet you. Larry says you do homicides, so I guess it was just a matter of time 'til we met."

He wasn't all that young, but definitely a few years junior to Brunelle and Chen. Brunelle guessed thirty-five or so. He sported a shaved head, a neat goatee, and muscles that practically ripped the seams of his shirt. His office was decorated in a mix of pirated gang-thug photos and mixed martial arts trophies.

"What can I do for you gentleman?" Henderson asked as they all sat down in the small office.

Brunelle got right to it. "George Traver. Old, homeless, Native American guy."

Henderson tapped his lips. "Yeah, I know him. Long hair? Heavy-set dude?"

"Dead dude," Brunelle answered. "I didn't really notice his hair when I was standing over him with a knife sticking out of his chest."

Henderson frowned and slapped the arm of his chair. "Really? Damn. I kinda liked him. I wondered why I hadn't heard from him in a bit."

"You kinda liked him?" Chen screwed up his face. "He was a child molester. And a registered sex offender who hadn't registered in over six months."

Henderson nodded. "Yeah, I sort of had to overlook that."

Brunelle raised a hand. "Wait, wait. You had to overlook it? You hadn't heard from him in a while? What's going on? Why did this guy have your card in his wallet?"

Henderson slapped his forehead. "He had my card in his wallet? God, no wonder he got offed."

Brunelle grabbed his own temples. "Okay, hold on." He lowered his hand again. "I'm having a really bad day. I discovered a friend of mine didn't do what I thought he did and I'm still grappling with the fact that he's dead now because of the manner, place, and time I chose to confront him about it. So, if you could just do me a favor and explain, slowly and clearly, why George Traver had your card in his wallet."

Henderson looked to Chen, with an obvious 'Is this guy nuts?' look. Chen returned a 'He's okay; just answer his question' nod and Henderson shrugged.

"George was just another homeless guy in Pioneer Square," Henderson said. "I found him drunk and disorderly one night and ran him for warrants. The failing to register thing showed up. I was going to arrest him when he told me he knew about me, about how all the gangbangers talk about 'Henderson' and are scared of me, and he could help me get some of them."

Henderson paused. Brunelle supposed he wanted some acknowledgement of being feared throughout the Seattle gang community. When he didn't get it, he went on.

"At first, I didn't buy it," he said. "But then he told me was Native and he'd heard the NGBs—" He stopped and looked to Brunelle. "You know the Native Gangster Bloods?"

"I'm familiar with them," Brunelle replied dryly. "Keep going."

"Right. The NGBs were looking to expand from Tacoma up to Seattle. He said he knew all the NGBs and could keep tabs on them for me if I just didn't arrest him."

"So you didn't arrest him," Chen confirmed. "Instead, you made him a snitch."

Henderson nodded, a satisfied smile in the corner of his mouth.

"And now he's dead," Brunelle observed. "So that didn't work out so well for him."

"It clears the warrant," Henderson joked.

Brunelle offered a pained smile. Then a light bulb went off.. His smile grew wider and he stood up. "Thank you, Detective Henderson. You've made me a very happy man."

"Oh," he replied, standing up as well. "Why is that?"

"Because now I have an excuse to drop in on a very mean, but very attractive defense attorney and tell her I'm going to kick her ass."