Bargain Hunting (17 page)

Tony came to my door and knocked once on the jamb. He had on a gray suit that did wonders for him. He looked lean and fit and very handsome. No wonder he had such luck with jurors. But today wouldn’t be about jurors. It would be only the judge, the ASA, Liam, Tony, and me. “Did you get the report?”

“Reading it now,” I answered, hoping he wouldn’t want it right then since I hadn’t finished.

“How are your photography skills?” he asked.

“I’m not Ansel Adams but I can point and shoot. Why?”

“The cops have released José’s house. I got an order this morning allowing us to go in. I want every inch of the place photographed before the arraignment.” He stepped forward and handed me a slip of paper with an address on it. “Don’t forget the backyard. I want to be able to see the path Liam took when he fled the scene.”

I nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Here’s the key to get in.” He turned to leave, then turned back. “Nice job on the Travis Johnson abstracts. You’ll be meeting him next week.”

“Okay.”

“See you at the courthouse.”

I spent the next forty minutes trying to decipher the Lopez autopsy. It wasn’t as complete as Stan’s because it was a preliminary report. The toxicology wasn’t back yet and some of the trace evidence was still being examined. All I really learned was that he was shot just below the right ear and the bullet went through his brain and exited through his jaw. My stomach was
doing flip-flops. I envisioned the scenario in my head, with a downward wound pattern, and realized that one of two things was possible. Either José was seated when the bullet hit or he was shot by a much taller person. Then he either fell into the chair or was put there by someone.

Like Stan, there was stippling around the wound, meaning it was a close-contact injury. I flipped back a couple of pages and looked up José’s height. He was five-eleven. If he died standing up, Liam could have made the shot. Not a bonus for our side.

I gave the autopsy reports to one of the interns to take up to Tony’s office on my way out. After stopping at the store to buy disposable cameras, I went to the former crime scene. José’s house was on a cul-de-sac. The fenced yard abutted a house one street over. It was a modest blue home with white trim and lots of hedges in dire need of trimming. I started my photo shoot on the outside, clicking away at every possible angle.

With more than a touch of trepidation, I went to the front door. A piece of yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze where it was still taped to one side of the door. I let myself in and again snapped photo upon photo. The kitchen was a tad untidy but nothing major. Well, nothing except for the fingerprint residue on every surface. The kitchen had two entrances, so I went past the range and entered the living room. There were two sofas, a recliner, an entertainment center with a television and a stereo, as well as a coffee table and matching end tables. The living room led out to a small cement patio and the fence, which was overgrown with wisteria vines. There was a grill and a plastic patio set that was dirty but undisturbed. I concentrated on the living room, my stomach lurching when I photographed
the recliner with the dark brown bloodstain that had dripped along the chair, then pooled on the floor. There were flecks of what looked like sweetbreads. Just seeing them pushed bile into my throat. Moving closer, I captured the disgusting scene from several perspectives. I was about to go in search of bedrooms and bathrooms when something caught my eye.

The sunlight was shining through the glass doors and there was a reflection on the top of the coffee table. Two circles. Outlines really. I captured those on film as well. Maybe the killer had a beer with José before blowing his brains out. Not likely. And I had no way of knowing when those marks were left on the table.

The bedrooms and bathroom were devoid of any new clues. The windows were locked and I didn’t see any disturbances in the fingerprint dust, indicating that nobody had found a lift on the sill. Trying to be thorough, I took pictures from the bedroom hallway, giving me long shots into the living room. Then I heard a noise and, startled, I hit the small table and sent a lamp crashing to the ground. As I started to collect the pieces, I was already dreading having to tell Tony that I’d broken something during my assignment. Then I saw it, right in the middle of all the ceramic shards. A small black button-size object with a tiny wire sticking out of one side. I placed it in my palm and stared at it. A fuse maybe? A timer for the light? I didn’t know, but I decided to take it with me. I could always return it.

I’d managed to go through four cameras before I ran to Walgreens to have the films developed at their kiosk. There was a clerk stationed at the kiosk just in case anyone ran into trouble. I guessed he was late teens, early twenties. I knew he
was staring at me. Or at least at my legs. I’d have smiled back if I thought it would get me a discount, but then I remembered Dane-Lieberman would reimburse me so I just ignored his misplaced adoration. Unlike Liv, I wasn’t interested in having a plaything.

I arrived at the courthouse with fifteen minutes to spare. So had Tony, and we slipped into one of the counsel conference rooms and he looked at my photos. “Look at this,” I said as he got to the ones with the coffee table circles. “What does that look like to you?”

“Condensation circles. Lopez had a visitor that night?” he wondered aloud.

“Or he had one a month ago and wasn’t big on dusting and polishing.”

Tony smiled. “I like my theory better.”

“Me, too. Oh, and look at this one,” I said, moving the photos around on the table until I found the one I wanted. “The wisteria shows signs of disturbance and I think that’s a smear of dried blood on those flowers. Doesn’t that prove Liam’s story?”

“It goes a long way, except that the state’s attorney can claim that Liam jumped the fence after he shot Lopez.”

“What about this?” I said, taking the button with the wire out of my purse and handing it to him.

“Where did you get this?” he asked.

“I accidentally broke a lamp, which I will pay for, and it just came out. Do you know what it is?”

He nodded. “It’s a listening device.”

“José’s house was bugged?”

“Looks like it.”

My heart pounded with excitement. “Can we find out who was doing the bugging?”

“Maybe. These things have serial numbers. Maybe we can trace it.”

Tony and I gathered everything together and packed up our respective briefcases. “Let’s go down to lockup and see Liam before the arraignment.”

Lockup smelled like sweat and desperation. It was a series of small rooms along a short corridor. There were at least a half dozen guards and an elaborate electronic board that controlled all access to those waiting in the small glass cells. Tony and I were buzzed into Liam’s room, but not before I’d gotten a few catcalls.

“Sorry about that,” Tony said. “I should have warned you.”

“Not a problem.” I said, then focused my full attention on Liam. His hair was damp and he was clean-shaven. The blue jumpsuit was hideous, yet it managed to show off his well-toned body. Leave it to me to be lusting after a guy in prison blues.

In spite of Liam’s protests, Tony insisted on going over exactly what would happen at the arraignment. Then he produced the minute listening device and asked, “Recognize this?”

“It’s a plant,” he said. “You can get them at any spy shop in the country. Probably online, too.”

“Well, this one came out of Lopez’s house. Finley found it.”

Liam looked up at me and smiled. “Finley went on a field trip?”

I braced myself. If he told Tony I was directly violating his instructions I’d be in deep shit.

“I asked her to photograph the scene for me.”

Liam nodded. “Find anything interesting besides the bug?”

Tony had me take out the photos for Liam to examine. “Does this look like the house when you last saw it?” Tony asked.

“It was dark, but I’m pretty sure there were two cans of beer on the coffee table.”

“The cops must have taken them for evidence,” Tony said. “If they did, I’ll ask to have access to them so we can do our own testing. At least we can infer that Lopez wasn’t alone that night.”

“Unless both cans were his. Lopez could down a six-pack, no problem.”

There was a buzzing sound and then Liam’s door slid open. The bailiff said, “They’re about to call your case.”

Liam stood, the action rattling the chains around his waist, hands, and ankles. Tony and I left first but I could hear the shuffle of Liam following behind us. It was enough to make my heart ache. I wanted this nightmare over. Maybe we’d get lucky and the judge would dismiss the charges.

And maybe it would snow in Miami.

I saw Jane, Liv, and Becky seated in the gallery. I mouthed “Thank you” to them. Ashley was ever present as usual. On the opposite side of the aisle, the place was packed with uniformed deputies showing their solidarity with the slain officer. I hoped that wouldn’t have an effect on the judge. Assistant State’s Attorney Garza was standing at his table. Tony and I were across from him facing the elevated bench. Once Liam was brought in, a guard stood behind him as if he’d make a mad dash for it. He was no longer in chains and restraints.

He sat between me and Tony and absently I reached over
and gave his hand a squeeze just as the bailiff told us to stand. The judge, whose nameplate identified him as the Honorable Sean Hastings, was a distinguished-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and the symbolic black robe. Court was called to order, then Garza spoke.

“We’re here in the matter of the State of Florida versus Liam Rory McGarrity. The charge is murder.”

“Can I get a plea?” the judge asked.

“Your Honor,” Tony began as he rose. “The defense respectfully requests that you drop these charges for lack of evidence.”

The guy in the robe didn’t even look up.

“I’m reading the charging documents, Mr. Caprelli, and everything seems in order. You’ll have to take up the matter of suffiency with the trial judge. Now can I get a plea?”

“Not guilty,” Tony said forcefully.

“Bail?” the judge asked.

Garza stood again. “The state requests remand. The facts in this case indicate that Mr. McGarrity committed a heinous act and then hid from the police.”

Tony stayed on his feet. “The state is neglecting to tell the court that Mr. McGarrity willingly and of his own accord made himself available to the police and cooperated at all times during the interviews.”

“Is that true, Mr. Garza?”

“Yes, Your Honor, but—”

“Then it appears the defendant was not hiding. Does he have ties to the community?”

“He’s a lifelong resident of the county,” Tony began. “He owns a home here and a business. He poses no risk of flight
and looks forward to the opportunity to defend himself against these false charges.”

The judge reached for his gavel. “Bail is set at one hundred fifty thousand. Cash or bond.”

I was relieved and terrified at the same time. Did Liam have that kind of money?”

Tony said, “Can you get that much?”

Liam shook his head. “My house is mortgaged and I’ve got about fifteen grand in the bank.”

Before I knew what I was doing I said, “I’ve got it. I can put my house up as collateral.” I only hoped Jane didn’t hear that pledge.

“You don’t have to do that,” Liam said.

“It’s not a problem.”

“Thanks,” he said as the guard took him by the arm and started leading him to the exit that would take him back to the holding area.

“Finley,” Tony warned. “We represent clients. We do not bail them out of jail.”

“I’m not going to leave him here. Not when I know he didn’t do it.”

Tony shrugged just as ASA Garza made his way over to us. He had a folder in one hand that he passed to Tony. “Look, I like your client, but things are not looking good. Call me if you want to discuss a plea.”

As he walked away, Tony opened the folder and held it so we could read it simultaneously. It was Lopez’s toxicology report. A large amount of ketamine was found in his system and a puncture wound was noted as well. “What’s ketamine?” I asked Tony.

“It’s potent stuff. Called Special K on the streets. It’s an animal tranquilizer but can be used on humans.”

“So Lopez was drugged?”

Tony turned to the second page. “Yep. And according to this, the police have a confidential informant who says he sold ketamine to Liam the day before the shooting.”

Happiness covers all things except poverty and a bad haircut.

Deed in hand, I
went to the nearest bail bondsman. It was a small, single-story building with glass partitions separating those who were arranging bail from those who were collecting the cash or collateral.

To say I was out of my element was an understatement. Very few people had all their teeth and at least three of the patrons looked as if they’d been in the same clothes for a week or more. Like some sort of deli counter, I pulled a ticket out of a machine and waited for my number to be called. Each minute felt like an hour and I was still ten people away from being picked.