CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

 

That evening at home Beverly mulled over the analysis of the polygraph examination and the other aspects of the case against Manuel Gonzalez.

As far as he believes it...

The thought raced through her mind like a locomotive. Did that mean Gonzalez could have somehow convinced himself that he killed Judge Crawford and brutally sexually assaulted Maxine Crawford, when in fact he really was not guilty of these crimes? Sort of like self-hypnosis?

Beverly was sitting on a club chair in the living room, a glass of wine in hand. The TV was on, but she was barely aware of it. Jaime had gone to see a movie with Paco, leaving her all by her lonesome.

No matter what I want to believe, the bottom line is that as an expert in polygraph exams, Jackie felt Manuel Gonzalez was truthful in his assertion of committing the crimes Rafael Santiago was accused of.

Who am I to question it?

She couldn’t prove Santiago was the guilty party if the tide had swung in Gonzalez’s direction.

Instead Beverly was left to wonder if her instincts in this case had been all wrong. All she wanted was for justice to be rendered correctly. Even if it meant having to drop the charges against Rafael Santiago, who may have been innocent in spite of his criminal history, which included committing murder.

One thing that troubled Beverly was that Gonzalez had apparently failed the polygraph on the question of whether there had been any communication between him and Santiago, according to the polygraph examiner. Though Jackie conceded that the reading was more or less inconclusive, Beverly believed that there could be a darker explanation. The identical twin brothers could have conspired in concocting their stories. Or even in perpetrating their crimes.

Unfortunately I can’t rely on supposition. Bottom line, at this point it would be nearly impossible to get a conviction against Santiago.

Unless some earth shattering revelation should suddenly fall onto her lap.

The phone rang, giving Beverly a start. She lifted it off the coffee table and saw that the caller was Grant.

“Hey, baby—” His voice was cheerful and it warmed her to hear it.

“Hey back to you.” She tasted the wine, wishing he were there to share it with her. Instead they had made a pact to temporarily pause their personal relationship so there would be no conflict of interest while dealing with the legal crisis that had just come up.

As soon as the Santiago case was settled one way or the other, Beverly and Grant agreed that nothing else would stand in the way of their happiness together.

Not even the continuing investigation into Judge Crawford’s illicit activities, wherever it may lead.

“So how did the lie detector test go?” Though the question was casual, Beverly knew that the results would carry a lot of weight for Grant’s inclination on the guilt or innocence of Santiago and Gonzalez.

“He passed it,” she said almost sadly, though only wanting to see to it that the right man was convicted in this case when all was said and done.

Beverly discussed it with Grant as well the DNA results. As Conrad Ortega and Natalie Pena had access to all the same information she didn’t feel it was stepping out of bounds in talking to the judge about the case.

“I blame Maxine Crawford for this screw up,” Grant said, conceding that Gonzalez’s confession was probably valid when coupled with the DNA match. “She positively identified Santiago as her attacker. You just took the ball and ran with it. Now some will argue that there may have been a rush to judgment.”

Beverly curled her lip. She saw Santiago as possibly wronged. Maybe even singled out based on past history. But there was no rush to judgment. The pieces fit. Or at least they had, till Manuel Gonzalez thrust himself into the picture.

“No one could have imagined that Santiago would have an identical twin,” she found herself defending Maxine. Or am I defending myself? “Much less, that the two would have identical lizard tattoos above their genitals.”

“I suppose,” Grant husked begrudgingly. “Luckily Gonzalez decided to come clean and back it up before an innocent man was put away and most likely sentenced to death—”

“Not sure it had much to do with luck,” Beverly hissed. “It’s not like Gonzalez confessed out of the goodness of his heart. The man was already in hot water for killing three people. He had every incentive to tell his story as part of a plea bargain to spare his life.”

Which was, she considered, still motive enough for a false yet convincing confession.

Yet there was no denying that the facts, including Gonzalez’s intimate knowledge of the crimes against the Crawfords, pointed squarely at the confessed multiple murderer and rapist.

It still hardly meant that Rafael Santiago was a reformed man. Or innocent in the true sense of the word.

“You’re right, Bev.” Grant breathed into the phone. “Why don’t we just let this play itself out in the court and see what happens.”

Beverly agreed, while hoping for the best and not the worst, though unsure if she could tell one from the other.

“I love you, Beverly,” Grant said. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Like my career being irreparably damaged by the blunder with the suspects?

Or was he bracing himself for future crises in the courtroom?

“And I love you, Grant,” Beverly told him, leaving it and the speculation at that.