David Child must’ve heard me trying to park the Honda in the driveway of the Lizard’s home. He stood at the open front door, hands in his pockets, his right leg shaking.
“Am I clear?” he said, as I folded myself out of the cramped driver’s seat.
“Not yet.”
I told him everything that had happened at the airport over two energy drinks and half a pot of coffee. No wonder David didn’t sleep. Those drinks tasted like gasoline and OJ. I didn’t tell him about El Grito. He didn’t need any more pressure.
“It stands at twenty years—or fight the case and risk a life sentence. The DA has his ballistics now, identifying the gun found in your car as the same weapon that fired the rounds that killed Clara. I read the report from a Dr. Peebles, the ballistics expert. It’s a pretty straight report. Only thing that stood out was that Peebles couldn’t find a serial number on the murder weapon. But that won’t cut us any slack.”
He tried to speak. I could see the panic building in his gut, tightening every sinew, stretching every vein, strangling his breath. His head sank to the table.
Then he surprised me again.
“At least your wife is off the hook, from the law I mean. At least that’s one good thing that’s come out of this. I could tell by the way the district attorney behaved in court earlier. I just knew. He would never give me a deal. I knew it,” he said, his fists thumping the table.
A long sigh, his fingers extended. Then his body appeared to relax. It was almost like watching someone take the tension out of a coiled spring.
“I’m just thankful your family is safe,” he said. And he meant it.
“Christine has the threat from the firm hanging over her. That won’t stop until this charge goes away. You’ve got the means to hurt the firm, and they won’t rest until that threat is removed permanently. Your only chance is to beat this charge tomorrow and pray that the task force takes down the firm before they get to you.”
“But your wife is out of this now. She’s safe. You could just walk away. Go be with your family, I’d … I’d understand.”
Even staring at the prospect of a life sentence, David was thinking of others.
“No.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you need help, because I’ve let you down enough. I think you should tell the DA to go to hell. That’s bad legal advice, but in truth, I’m not much of a lawyer.”
“Really, so what are you good at?” said David.
“Hustling. Grifting. Con artistry. And because of that I’ve almost worked out how you were framed. But proving it is something else. We do have one new piece of evidence that has potential, but I have to play it right.”
I told him about the footage I’d seen on the hidden vent cam.
“I … I … don’t remember that.”
“From the angle, I don’t think you saw it. You must have been aware of it somehow, because you turned around and then stopped.”
“I didn’t know what it was at the time. Clara was trying to help me with that aspect of my personality. The compulsiveness. I suppose it worked, some of the time.”
“What we need now is the rest of the story. This won’t work unless we can explain the setup.”
From my visit to David’s building I had the beginnings of a theory—how he could’ve been framed. But there were still too many uncertainties and unanswered questions. I didn’t have it all. Not yet. And I didn’t see any point in telling him how I thought it had gone down. For a start, it was so elaborate, so risky—it was a miracle that it had worked out. So far we’d found one mistake. I was sure there would be others.
“Did you meet Langhiemer?” he said.
I showed David the picture I’d taken on my phone.
“He looks pissed at you,” said David.
“Yeah, there’s something going on there. Does he have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know, probably.”
“I can’t rule him out, but I can’t see how he figures in this at the moment.”
A sudden pain shot through my skull, blinding me. I’d had no sleep in more than twenty-four hours and it didn’t look like I was going to get any meaningful shut-eye that night. I closed one eye to the pain, sat up, and drained the last of the coffee from one of the Lizard’s mugs that bore the slogan LIZARDS DO IT NAKED. It was almost three a.m., and the sky was just about to change from smoke black to a burgeoning promise of the morning.
“He’s the only one with the money and the power to do it,” said David.
“But why? Corporate war is one thing, but murder is a whole different bag. Do you really think he’s that ruthless? He’d kill an innocent girl to frame you?”
David rubbed his chin, then thought better of it and plucked three wet wipes from the pack and began to clean his fingers.
I tried Christine’s cell for about the twentieth time. Still nothing. I told myself they were okay, they were headed for the open country, in the middle of nowhere, so there might not be a phone signal.
“So what happens tomorrow?” said David.
Folding away the files, I got to my feet, ready to find the Lizard’s couch and at least try to get some sleep.
“We fight. At the moment we don’t have enough to win. Hopefully Kennedy will come through. In fact, I’m sure he will. I left him at your building—he’s searching through the camera footage, trying to clear up a few things. He’s also trying to find some information that will help us. It won’t be easy to get, but he’ll make it happen.”
“So, he’s the determined type.”
“I wouldn’t say that. He’s more like a stubborn son of a bitch.”
Child looked me up and down, shook his head.
“I know you’ll do your best, but I can’t see this hearing going my way. Whoever set me up saw to that.”
Placing the files on the coffee table, I sat back down and rubbed my temples.
“David, there’s always a chance,” I said.
“Because I’m telling the truth?”
“No, because I’m representing you, and I don’t believe you killed anyone. I’m sure that’s true, but the truth isn’t enough. This isn’t about the truth. No trial is ever about the truth. It’s about what can or can’t be proven. It’s a game. And tomorrow we’re playing to win.”
David got up and held out his hand, a brave gesture for him. I shook it.
I settled on the Lizard’s couch, but couldn’t sleep. I thought over everything that had happened that day—went over the various ways that the setup for Clara’s murder might have worked out. I called Kennedy.
“You still awake?” I said.
“I’m awake. I’m waiting for people to get back to me. I think I’ll be able to get you everything you need.”
“That’s great. Mind if I run something past you?”
“Shoot.”
“The car accident. David’s car was hit on purpose. Whoever orchestrated the accident knew that the air bag residue could easily be mistaken for gunshot residue.”
“Fair enough,” said Kennedy.
“So, you’ll look into it?”
“Look into what?”
I sighed. “I had to buy that article online directly from the university. Maybe whoever framed David got their information from the same source.”
“Okay, I’ll look into it. You also asked me to look into somebody else for the murder. What was the guy’s name again?”
I told Kennedy all I knew about Bernard Langhiemer.
“I never heard of him, but…” He paused.
“What?”
“You said Langhiemer took out some unfriendly bloggers by loading their computers with child-exploitation images?”
“Yeah, that’s one sick individual,” I said.
“It may be nothing, or it may be something. I saw the video of the interviews between Dell and the informant, Farooq, from last year. Mostly they talk about the firm, its history, Ben Harland being corrupted by Gerry Sinton—that kind of thing. But at one point Dell offers Farooq a deal for testifying. Farooq said that unless he got immunity, he would fight the charges against him.”
“So…”
“So Farooq claimed he never saw any of those images before. He said he’d been framed.”
“Take a look at Langhiemer for me, see what else you can dig up,” I said.
Kennedy stifled a yawn and said, “Anything else?”
“Don’t suppose you’d give me an alarm call at seven a.m.?”