Tribal Court (6 page)

Chapter 11

The Pierce County Medical Examiner's Office sat on Pacific Avenue, toward the top of a hill overlooking downtown Tacoma and Commencement Bay. When Brunelle first got the location from his GPS he thought he might be in for a nice view of the water. Instead, the ME's office was a squat, two-story building tucked, viewless, between some not quite so squat four- and five-story buildings. Its only view was across Pacific Avenue to the old brick facade of the Health Department's headquarters.

The lobby was equally unimpressive. No receptionist, no chairs. Just a metal intercom box and an elevator. Pressing the elevator call button confirmed it wouldn't light until he got the okay from whoever was on the other end of the intercom.

Brunelle pressed the intercom button. "Hello? This is Dave Brunelle from the King County Prosecutor's Office."

A few seconds later a woman's voice gave a staticky reply. "Hello. Did—
skraak
—say you're—
skrawk
—om the prosecutor's office?"

Brunelle thought for a moment. "Sure. Can I come up?"

After a moment, a loud buzzer sounded and Brunelle's second effort at the elevator button met with success. He stepped in and pressed the only option: the basement.

Nice. The basement of the morgue. This should be cheery.

The elevator shuddered to a halt and after a few too many seconds, the doors slowly opened to reveal a very tall, very thin, very bald man glowering down at him.

"Hello," said the man. "I don't know you."

He had an accent, but Brunelle couldn't quite place it.

Brunelle smiled. "No, you don't." He put out his hand as he stepped off the elevator. "Dave Brunelle."

The man shook Brunelle's hand and cracked a disconcerting smile. "I'm Dr. Garner, the new Medical Examiner. You're with the prosecutor's office?"

"Yes, sir," Brunelle replied. He felt no compunction to clarify which county he worked for. "I'm here about last night's murder."

Garner grinned. "Which one?"

Wow, tough town
. "Uh, the one by the casino?"

"Ah." Garner raised an appraising eyebrow as he led Brunelle down a narrow hallway decorated with interesting and slightly disturbing prints and multi-media displays. "Do they have someone in custody already?"

"Er…" Right, Brunelle realized. No need for a prosecutor until a defendant is identified. "No, not yet. But, uh, I'm prosecuting a related murder."

Garner nodded. "I'm not surprised to hear that. Another gang-banger, I take it. They're killing each other like crazy right now. It's the damn Hatfields and McCoys out there. The latest is Hilltop Crips and Eastside Bloods. This was our first Native Blood since I've been here. I guess the Hilltops are branching out on their retributory killings."

"Guess so," Brunelle agreed.
Or it's a different blood feud
.

"So yours is gang-related too?" Garner asked as they reached his office. He motioned Brunelle inside.

"Um, yes," Brunelle answered. "My murderer is Native Gangster Blood."

"Maybe my victim was in retribution for yours," Garner suggested.

Brunelle nodded as he sat down across from the M.E. "Yeah, that's kinda what I'm thinking too."

"So," Garner leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, "what can I do for you?"

Might as well ask for the moon
, Brunelle figured.

"Can I get a copy of the autopsy report?"

Garner leaned forward. "I just finished that autopsy an hour ago. Do you think I have the report done already?"

"Do you?"

"Why, yes," the medical examiner grinned. "As a matter of fact, I do. Just the rough draft, but these autopsies tend to run together. One cadaver after another. I did eight yesterday alone. I learned a long time ago to dictate each report between autopsies, not all of them at the end of the day."

He turned and patted his computer monitor. "And I just got the latest dictation software. If you don't mind the occasional wrong word—'ulterior' instead of 'anterior'—I can print you out a copy right now."

Brunelle smiled. "That would be great, doctor. Thank you so much."

"No problem at all," Garner replied.

A few mouse-clicks later the printer on his desk started to spit out the report. He collected it up and handed it to Brunelle, who stood up, took the report, and prepared to leave.

"Thanks again, doctor."

"Happy to help," Garner answered as they stepped back into the hallway. He pointed back down the strangely-decorated hallway. "The elevator will take you back up to the lobby."

"Great," said Brunelle and he headed for the exit.

"Say 'Hi' to Mark for me," Garner called out after him.

Brunelle pressed the elevator button and turned around. "Who?"

Garner looked puzzled. "Your boss?"

"Oh right," Brunelle smiled as the elevator doors opened. He stepped in. "Sure. Will do. Thanks again."

Garner's puzzled expression only deepened as the elevator doors closed glacially and Brunelle considered his next, even more uncomfortably dishonest rendezvous.

Chapter 12

He had to wait eight days before he could get his expert to review Dr. Garner's report. The first three because she wouldn't return his calls. The next five were because it was that long before Kat could get a baby-sitter for Lizzy. She wasn't about to leave her home alone, and Brunelle couldn't just ask her for help. He needed to take her out to dinner. Make amends for his insensitive description of Talon.

Besides, there was what he might get in exchange for dinner. A boy could dream, anyway.

He managed to wait until after the waiter had brought the entrees before starting his spiel.

"So," he tried to sound casual. "You haven't asked me how my tribal case is going."

Kat looked up, about to put a piece of beef in her mouth. She went ahead with the bite and waited to fully chew and swallow before replying sardonically, "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. How selfish of me. Please, tell me. How's your tribal case going?"

Brunelle smiled despite the sarcasm. "I'm glad you asked." He took time for a quick bite himself. "It just expanded. Two for one, you might say."

"Really?" Kat smiled. "Did someone kill the hot bitch defense attorney?"

Brunelle managed not to reply, 'Wow' and instead said, "Uh, no. Someone killed the defendant's cousin."

"Oh," Kat said as she took another bite. She didn't even try to sound interested.

"I think they're related," Brunelle pressed on.

Kat looked at him. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure cousins are related."

"No, no," Brunelle stammered. "The cases. The cases are related."

Kat shrugged. "Okay."

"They're in the same gang. At least that's what the detective down there says."

Kat got a strange look on her face. "What's the detective's name?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Er, Sixrivers," Brunelle answered.

She nodded. "Tommy Sixrivers." It wasn't a question. More like the recounting of a pleasant memory.

"You know him too?" Brunelle asked, trying not to sound perturbed. He knew he'd failed.

"Oh, yes." Kat purred. "Dated him in high school. He was gorgeous. Only dated for a week, but oh, what a week."

"Great," Brunelle nodded. "So did you date everyone in the tribe? Like a Native American groupie or something?"

Kat's dreamy smiled twisted into a scowl. "I grew up down there. My mom is part Muckleshoot. I wasn't as cool as the Duwallup kids, but they accepted me. Some of them even thought I was attractive. Including Tommy."

"The dreamboat?" Brunelle confirmed.

The smile returned. "He's still gorgeous, isn't he?"

Brunelle sighed. "Yeah, he's pretty gorgeous."

Kat just smiled and took another bite of her dinner.

"Can we talk about the case again?" Brunelle complained.

"Sure," Kat said through her food. She swallowed. "Go ahead. Do I have to listen?"

"Ha ha," Brunelle replied. "I guess I'll just sit here knowing all about how the wounds are really similar to Traver's and not say a thing about your area of expertise."

Kat raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Yep. Pretty similar," Brunelle continued, supressing a grin. "I mean, what do I know? I'm just a lawyer. But, you're not listening anyway, so, you know, never mind."

He took a sip of wine. He wanted her truly invested. He was going to make her ask.

So she did.

"Fine. How are the wounds similar?"

Gotcha
. Brunelle let the smile push through. By the time he was done, she might even think she was the one who'd asked him out.

"Stab wounds," he said. "One to the gut, one to the heart. Except…"

"Except what?"

"Except the cousin also had one to the back. Hit his kidney."

Kat set down her fork. "And how do you know that?"

"Two reasons, actually," Brunelle answered. "First, I was a witness—"

"You saw him get stabbed?" Kat interrupted.

Brunelle shook his head. "No, I didn't actually see it. I heard him scream and ran over to him, but it was too late. He was dead on the spot. I guess a knife in your heart will do that."

Kat offered a pained smile. "And what do you know about knives in your heart, Mr. Brunelle?"

For the first time in probably too long, Brunelle didn't know what to say. Any witty remark got stuck in his throat as he looked into the soft eyes across the table from him. Before he could regain himself or figure out what to say, Kat looked down at her plate again.

"So was this one in Pioneer Square too?" she asked. "I don't remember hearing about it from the other M.E.s."

"No," Brunelle answered, relieved not to have to talk about Kat's heart after all. "It was in Pierce County. In the parking lot of that casino by I-5."

Kat looked up again. "What were you doing at the casino? You don't seem like a gambler, Mr. Brunelle."

"Of course I'm a gambler," Brunelle grinned. "I'm a trial lawyer. Every case is like the ultimate gamble."

Kat shook her head. "Do you tell the victim's family that before opening statement?"

"I usually avoid saying anything like that at any time," Brunelle replied. "Besides, it's not really gambling if you know you're going to win."

"Nice," Kat grimaced. "Callous and cocky. Great combination."

"It's endearing after a while," Brunelle assured. "I promise."

Kat wagged her finger at him. "No, no. Don't start promising things. Nothing good ever comes from a man promising things to a woman."

Brunelle stopped for a moment to consider her assertion. She took advantage of the silence to steer the conversation back on track.

"So anyway," she said. "Why were you in a Pierce County casino parking lot not quite witnessing a murder?"

"It was the night before the arraignment," Brunelle explained. "I spent the night at a hotel down there so I wouldn't be late the next morning. I was walking across the parking lot on my way back to the hotel when I heard the kid scream."

"Kid?"

"Yeah," Brunelle frowned. "Turns out he was sixteen."

"Ouch. That's not much older than Lizzy."

"Yeah, but Lizzy's not a gang member with a cousin up for murder."

Kat nodded. "Thank God for that. So, cousins, huh? And both gang-bangers. But thirty miles apart. Probably not related, Sherlock. You might want to leave the sleuthing to the detectives."

Brunelle nodded casually. "That's what I was thinking too," he said looking down at his plate and pushing some food around absently, "until I compared their autopsy report with yours."

Kat took a sip of her wine. "Are the wounds really that similar?"

Brunelle grinned and pulled out his cell phone. "See for yourself. I scanned the reports and emailed them to my phone."

Kat took the phone and began tapping the screen. Brunelle ate silently as she read the reports, muttering medical examiner phrases like 'sharp force trauma' and 'peritoneal membrane.'

"David." She finally looked up. "These injuries are basically identical."

Brunelle nodded. "I know," he said through a mouthful of salmon.

"Even the length of the incision and the depth of the wound," Kat remarked. "I mean, if I didn't know better, I'd say it was the same knife."

"Thank you, doctor," Brunelle replied with a smile. "No further questions."

Kat jerked her face from the phone screen. "No further questions? What? You knew I'd say that?"

"I hoped you would," Brunelle shrugged. "I thought the same thing, but you're the expert, not me, so you need to say it."

"Is that what this was all about?" Kat threw down her fork. "This whole fucking dinner? Just to cross examine me?"

Brunelle could feel his face starting to flush. "Well, to begin with, it's direct examination. You're my witness."

"Like hell I am, David Brunelle," Kat spat. "I'm not your anything."

The other diners were starting to look over. "Look. I'm sorry," Brunelle whispered. "It's just shop talk. I, I thought you'd be interested."

"Bullshit," Kat sneered. "You knew I wasn't returning your calls. You were afraid I was mad at you. So you finally asked me out to dinner again. You figured I wouldn't help you if I was mad at you, so you had to give in and ask me out again."

Brunelle shook his head, but kept his eyes cast downward. "No. That's not it."

Kat scoffed. "Of course it is, Mr. Callous-and-Cocky. And I finally saw through it. But not until you got what you wanted. You bastard."

The waiter hurried over to their table. "Are you ready for the check?" he suggested nervously.

"Oh, no," Kat replied with a glare at Brunelle. "Bring me a dessert menu, my good man. My date's paying so I'm going all out tonight."

"Very good," the waiter answered. He turned to Brunelle. "Would you also like a dessert menu, sir?"

"No, thanks," Brunelle squeaked. "I'm not getting any tonight.

Kat laughed darkly. "You got that right, buddy."