Without a Hitch (23 page)

“I don’t remember,
it was all a blur.”

“Was Letricia
sitting or standing when she was shot?”

“I don’t
remember.”

Corbin took a
deep breath.  He pursed his lips and visibly ran his tongue over his teeth.  He
wanted Beaumont to know he didn’t believe Beaumont’s story.  “A moment ago, you
remembered every detail of everything that happened vividly.  Now you’re
telling me you don’t remember basic details from the critical moment, the
moment that should be eternally seared into your brain?”

“Standing!”
Beaumont blurted out.  “She was standing.  I was sittin’ on the couch behind
her.”

“Other than the
shooting, was there any fighting?”

“No, nobody
touched nobody.”

“Did you ever
touch the gun?”

“No.”

“Did you ever
touch Mona?”

“No, man.”

Corbin closed
his file and stared directly into Beaumont’s eyes.  “Your index finger print
was found on the trigger guard.  Tell me how it got there.”

“I think we’ve
gone far enough today,” Beckett suddenly interjected.

Corbin and
Beaumont both looked at Beckett with surprise.

Beckett started
collecting papers from the table.  “We’re going to investigate what you’ve told
us.  Do you have any questions?”

Beaumont looked
at Beckett suspiciously, then he looked at Corbin who still stared at Beckett. 
“No man, I don’t got no questions.  When you comin’ back?”

“We’ll be back
in about a week.  We’ll talk about preparing a defense then.”  Beckett shoved
the last of the papers into the file folder.  He rose.  “Hang tight Beaumont,
we’ll be in touch.”

Outside at the
bus stop, a safe distance from the jail, Corbin spoke for the first time. 
“What the hell was that?  Five more minutes and—”

“. . . and you
would have proven he killed two women.  I know.  But as an attorney, I can’t
let him lie.  So the less I know the better.  That’s why I had to stop you.  Plus,
you did what you had to.”

“I could have
broken him.”

“You did break
him, he just doesn’t know it yet.  Let the memory of what happened in there
sink in.  He’ll be in a panic by the end of the week.  It’s better to let this
eat at him, than it is to break him on the spot and let him have the week to
save his pride.  Fear is strongest as a motivator before you know how things
are going to turn out.  It diminishes once the deed is done and all you have to
do is suffer to consequences.  Let him sweat.”

Corbin sat in
the hotel chair with his feet resting on the bed and his cell phone against his
ear.  The room was cold and dark.  He was tired from the long day, but Alvarez
insisted on going over the entire day in detail.

“This guy sounds
like a real turd,” opined Alvarez.

“He is.”  Corbin
rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t believe
Beckett is willing to go down to save him.  I mean, maybe I could understand if
he was just some guy, but this guy deserves whatever he gets.”

“I know.”

“Has he given
you any idea what he’s really thinking?”

“There’s no
mystery to it.  Beckett’s got it in his head that somehow this is wrong, no
matter what Beaumont’s done.”

“Do you think
you can get him off?”

“I don’t know,
maybe,” Corbin said indifferently.

“It sounds like
you could be in Philly for a long time.  What did you tell your boss?”

“I told him I
had a sick aunt.”

“Did he buy
that?”

“Sure, he’s
happy to have me not working.  The less work I do, the bigger the backlog, the
greater the justification for his budget.”

“He denied
having the wallet?”  Alvarez meant Beckett.  He was jumping all over in his
questions, but Corbin had little trouble keeping up.

“He denied even
knowing about the wallet.”

“What do you
think that means?”

“It means he has
it.”

“Where?”

“Could be
anywhere, but I suspect he has it nearby.  I’m going to search the office
tomorrow at lunch or in the evening.  If I don’t find it there, I’ll search his
hotel room.”

“How are you
going to get into his hotel?” Alvarez asked.

“I’ll figure
something out.”

“Don’t get
caught.  What do we do if you can’t find the wallet?”

“Just keep
going.”

“What if he
tries to turn you in?”

Corbin tapped
his finger against the back of the phone.  “I’m not going to talk about that on
the phone.”

“He gave away
the money?”  Alvarez asked this several times already; he was having a hard
time believing it.

“So he says.”

“Then how’s he
supporting himself?”

Corbin shook his
head.  “I don’t know.  He’s probably on a leave of absence, like I am.  Kak
still pays me every two weeks.”

“But I thought
he was going broke?  How can he add the cost of a hotel and living separately
from his family?  He’s got to be using the money we gave him.”

“I don’t know. 
Maybe his financial situation wasn’t as dire as he claimed.  Remember, he used
to commute by train every day.  That’s not cheap.  Maybe he’s using that money
to pay for his hotel?  Maybe he’s putting it all on credit?  Maybe he lied
about getting rid of the money?  I don’t know.”

“When are you
coming back to town?”

“This weekend.”

“All right, call
me if something comes up.”

Corbin hung up
and checked his messages.  He had several including a message from Blue to call
him back and a lengthy message from Penny.  He listened to a few seconds of her
message before calling her.

“Hello,” came
Penny’s familiar voice.

“Hey there.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” 
Corbin heard a loud clank through the phone.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m cleaning my
oven,” she said.  “Oh shoot.”

“What?”

“This bottle
says ‘avoid direct eye contact,’ and I’m staring right at it.”

Corbin snickered.

“How’s your
aunt?” Penny asked.

“She’s fine.”

“Fine enough
that you’re coming back soon?” Penny asked hopefully.

“I’ll be down
this weekend, but I have to turn around and come right back Sunday night.”

“At least I can
have you on Saturday. . . unless you have another date?”

Corbin laughed. 
“No, no other date.  I guess I’m available.”

“You ‘guess’?”
Penny mimicked.  “Oh good for me,” she laughed.  “I’ll have to check my
calendar and see if I’m free as well.”  Penny closed the oven and turned on the
clean function.  “Did you talk to Blue?”

“No, I’ll call
him next.”

“He’s got good
news for you.  I’ll let him tell you though. . . I miss you.”

“I miss you
too,” he replied.  “But listen, it’s been a really long day, and there are
things I still need to do, so let me call you tomorrow?”

“Fine, blow me
off,” Penny said in mock frustration.

Corbin laughed.

After they said
goodbye, Corbin pulled up Blue’s number, but he didn’t dial it.  Instead, he
turned off the cell phone.  He was tired.  He rubbed his temples and stared out
the window.  Beneath the yellow street lights, he could see sheets of rain
falling against the deserted street.

Chapter 27

By the time Corbin
reached the office the following morning, his overcoat and hair were wet from
walking through the drizzle, though his suit remained dry.  Beckett sat behind his
desk reviewing a forensics report.  He looked damp from head to toe as his
winter coat was more of a jacket.  It hung on the doorknob to dry.  As usual,
his paisley tie was frayed.

“I’ve got a lead
on a witness,” Beckett said.

“Who’s the
witness?”

“A drug dealer. 
He calls himself ‘Saitoo.’  He says Beaumont was with him all day on the 14th.”

“Did you find
him or did he find you?” Corbin asked.

“Does it
matter?”

“It would be
nice to know how happy he’ll be to see us.”

“He called me.”

“All right, when
do we leave?”

“Now,” Beckett
said, rising from his chair.  “Oh, and I’ve set up an interview with one of the
cops this afternoon.”

“The old guy or
the rookie?”

“The rookie.  Russell
‘hasn’t decided if he wants to talk to us yet’.”

Corbin decided
against sitting in the broken chair.  Beckett chose to stand as well.  The room
around them looked like it had been attacked.  There were holes in the walls,
holes in the floor, and empty fast food wrappers liberally strewn about.  The
paint was peeling from everything and wires hung where fixtures once had been. 
Lounging in a beanbag in the middle of the floor was a small black man in a
light-blue track suit and dark glasses.  He was covered in faux-gold jewelry
and was smoking a joint.

“He was wit’ me
the whole day,” said Chester Williams, aka Saitoo.  “That’s all anybody gots to
know.”

“Listen, Site-
oo
,”
Corbin said mockingly.

“That’s ‘Si-too’.”

“Sure it is,
Chester—”

“Don’t
disrespect me, I teach you a lesson.”

“Try it,” Corbin
offered.  He sized Saitoo up for a poser the moment he met him.

As Corbin
expected, Saitoo backed down.  “Look, man, I was wit my friend all day.  What
more you want me to say?”

“Try answering
the question.  Where did you two spend the day?”

“We just hung
out:  his place, my place, then we drove ’round ’til we came back here and ’et
dinner.”

“Dinner?”  Corbin
looked around the shattered empty apartment with no table and no kitchen.  “By
dinner, you mean you got high?”

“Man, I ain’t
never touched no drugs in my life,” Saitoo protested, with the joint still
resting between his fingers.

“It would be
helpful if you could remember what you ate,” Corbin suggested.

“Why does that
help?”

“Everything
helps,” Corbin replied.

“We had tacos.”

“You remember
that?”

“Sure do.”

“Do you have a
receipt?”

“Tossed it last
week.”  Saitoo mimicked crumpling up paper and dropping it to the floor.

“Where did you
get the tacos?  Maybe they have a videotape of you two entering the store.”

“Don’t nobody
keep videotapes this long,” Saitoo said incredulously.

“You’d be
surprised.  Give me the name of the place, and I guarantee I can get the video.”

“Uh, we didn’t
go in and get ’em.  We sent this girl we was hanging out wit’.”

“Oh goodie, a
third witness,” Corbin laughed.  “What’s her name.”

“Rochelle
DeMint.”

Beckett stepped
forward.  He’d been taking notes.  “How can we contact Rochelle?  Do you know
her phone number?”

“Yeah, I got
it,” Saitoo flipped through his cell phone directory.  “867-5309.”

Corbin burst out
laughing and walked across the room.

Beckett followed
him.  “What’s up?”

“867-5309!?”
Corbin repeated.

“What?” Beckett
asked.

“Are you serious? 
That’s a fake number, Evan.”

“How do you
know?”

“Trust me on
this one.”  Corbin looked over his shoulder at Saitoo puffing away on the
joint.  “This guy is telling us whatever we want him to tell us.  He’s just
making it up on the fly, and he’s not very good at it.”

“We should still
run down this Rochelle.”

“There is no
Rochelle.  He made her up.”

“We don’t know that,”
Beckett said earnestly.

“You know, for
an experienced attorney, you can be remarkably gullible.”

“I’ve learned
over time to run everything down, because you never know where it might lead,”
Beckett offered in his defense.

“All right, when
we get back to the office, you look up that phone number.  You’ll find it
belongs to someone named ‘Jenny.’  And if you want to meet ‘Rochelle,’ let’s
cut to the chase.”  Corbin walked back toward Saitoo.  “Listen up, idiot,”
Corbin said, tapping the bottom of Saitoo’s foot with his own foot, causing
Saitoo to jump backwards in the beanbag and curl up his leg.  “We need to talk
to this Rochelle.  Go find whoever it is you’ve got in mind and then call us
when she’s ready to meet us.”  Corbin tossed a card at Saitoo with their office
number written on it.  “Oh, and tell Beaumont he needs to get better
witnesses.”

Without another
word, Corbin and Beckett left.  Once they were back in the car, Corbin turned
to Beckett.  “Did you notice he never once fought me on any of the challenges I
made to his story?  Beaumont paid this guy to play along with everything we
said.  He wasn’t with Beaumont on the 14th and there’s no Rochelle or Jenny or
whatever her name is supposed to be.  Let’s go see the cop.”

Paul Webb walked
into the coffee shop.  He arranged this meeting after the prosecutor told him
Beckett wanted to meet with him.  Webb had no obligation to meet with Beckett,
but he somehow felt he should.  He didn’t tell the prosecutor.  Webb spotted
Corbin and Beckett right away.  They sat in the corner, away from the window
and the other patrons.  Webb clicked off his two way radio, a violation of
regulations, and walked over to their table.

“I’m Paul Webb,”
he said, without extending his hand to either Corbin or Beckett.

“Thanks for
coming, Officer.  Can I get you a drink or something?”  Beckett motioned Webb
to sit down.

“No, no
thanks.”  He sat down.

“This is my co-counsel
Alex Corbin,” Beckett said, pointing toward Corbin.  “We wanted to ask you some
questions about the arrest.”

“What do you
want to know,” Webb asked cautiously.

“I’ve got some
questions about the police report.”  Beckett pulled a copy of the report from
beneath a manila folder.  He offered the report to Webb, who declined to take
it.  Beckett planned to start with a series of simple questions, each designed
to get Webb agreeing with him before hitting him with some of the controversial
questions.  This was an old attorney trick.  Once you get a witness into the
habit of agreeing with you, it becomes easier for them to keep agreeing with you
as the questions get harder and it becomes harder for them to fight you.  “You
were the arresting officer, right.”

“Yeah, me and
Sgt. Russell,” Webb replied.

“Right, Sgt.
Russell.  He signed this report as well.  You’ve been an officer for less than
a year now?” Beckett asked in a friendly, yet businesslike manner.

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy
it?”

“Yeah, it’s ok.”

“You’ve had
other arrests before Beaumont, right?”

“Yeah, ten or
twelve.”

“That’s
impressive.  Sounds like you could make sergeant in record time,” Beckett
suggested, but Webb didn’t respond.  He returned to the report.  “Here you are listed
as the arresting officer.”

“Yeah.”

“Sgt. Russell
lists himself as backup?”

Webb hesitated. 
“Yeah.”

“Did Russell
know Beaumont before the arrest?”  This was Beckett’s first test question.  Beckett
knew from the file Russell had arrested Beaumont twice before.  He’d also
learned Webb and Russell were no longer partners, something which was itself
suspicious, and he wanted to test the bond between them.

“You’d have to
ask him,” Webb replied.

“He never
mentioned it at the time of the arrest?”

“You should
probably ask him,” Webb repeated.

“Is there a
reason you can’t answer that?”

“I don’t want to
speak for the guy, that’s all.”

“I’m not asking
you to speak for him, I’m asking you what he told you, that’s it.”

Webb shifted
uncomfortably.

“Is there a
reason you won’t answer the question?”  Beckett leaned forward.  “Officer, you
took an oath did you not, when you graduated from the academy?”

“What does that
have to do—”

“What happened
at the arrest, Officer?” Beckett asked, interrupting Webb.

“What do you
mean?”

“You know what I
mean.  This report has serious problems.”  Beckett tossed the report in front
of Webb, who backed away from it, refusing to touch it.  “You do realize what
it means that you signed this, right?”

“I’ve got to
go,” Webb said, rising from the table.

“Officer,”
Beckett said, trying to stop him.  “Webb!”

Webb stopped,
but didn’t turn around.

“Don’t let them
do this to you.  We can help you,” Beckett said earnestly, but Webb left.

Corbin sipped
his coffee before setting it down.  He ran his tongue over his teeth.  “So. . .
what happened to calmly pulling him in, gaining his trust, and seeing if he
knows anything?”

“He gave me an opening,
and I took it.”

“Opening? 
Looked more like he slammed the door in your face.”

“Didn’t you see
the conflict?  He didn’t want to sign the report.  He’s afraid of it.  He’s so
afraid of it he doesn’t even want to be a cop.  Did you see how he reacted when
I suggested he might make sergeant?  No rookie hates their job that much in
less than a year.  Rookies are like puppies, they’re gung ho about everything. 
Something happened.  He knows something.”

“Maybe he’s just
not happy being a cop?”

“No, he’s got an
impressive record until this arrest,” Beckett replied.

“How do you know
he’s not the one who faked the evidence?  We’re assuming it was Russell, but we
don’t know if that’s true.”

“It had to be
Russell.  Somebody planted those documents on Beaumont.  We know that for a
fact, because we know who really opened the accounts.  We also know those
documents came from the police department because the only people in the room
when they appeared were the cops.  So where would the cops get them?  According
to Russell’s statement, he worked on this case with the fraud boys before Webb
was assigned to him.  That gave him access to the documents.  We also know Russell
and Beaumont go way back, and Russell got the supposed anonymous tip that sent
them to Beaumont.  Plus, there’s no way Webb could have planted those documents
without Russell noticing it.  No sergeant is going to let a rookie put him into
that kind of a bind, especially a guy like Russell.  It all adds up to
Russell.”

“Makes sense,
but you’re still only guessing.”  Corbin sipped his coffee.

“Now we need to push
Webb.  We need to remind him of his training, remind him he didn’t become a cop
to play God.  Remind him of his oath.  That’s the only way to get him to make
the hardest choice of all, to do the right thing no matter who it hurts.”

“Those are
pretty long odds to rest Beaumont’s defense on.”

“I’m not putting
all my eggs in that basket, but we need something from him.  If both Russell
and Webb stick with their stories, then we have a problem.”

“What’s the
plan?”

“The prisoner’s
dilemma.  Two guys are accused of the same crime.  If they keep their stories
straight, they both get off.  But if you can separate them and offer them each
a deal, they’ll rat each other out because they’re afraid of being ratted out
themselves.  We just need to find out what kind of deal makes Webb tick.”

“What do you
mean?”

“I’ve met a lot
of cops.  The young guys are motivated by doing the right thing, a sense of
honor.  The older guys are motivated by keeping their jobs.  The political guys
just want to get promoted.  Webb’s young and he showed no interest in getting
promoted.  That tells me he’s all about honor.  So we offer him a chance to
come clean and protect his honor.”

“Unless I miss
my guess, you just did that and he declined.”

“
So far
he’s declined,” Beckett corrected him.  “Give him time.”

“Should we try
again to set up an interview with Russell?”

“No, let Webb
wonder why we haven’t spoken to Russell.  Hopefully, he’ll think Russell is
selling him out to save himself.”

Webb sat in his
cruiser a block from the coffee shop.  He stared at his reflection in the
rearview mirror.  After some seconds, he turned his radio on again and started
the cruiser.  He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and pulled up the
prosecutor’s number.  He looked in the mirror again before returning the phone
to his jacket.  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said to himself.