State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (4 page)

Beverly’s spine stiffened. “Jaime!” Her face
colored.
Just who have you been talking to about sex? Or do I
even want to know?
“That’s not the type of question a boy asks
his mother,” she snapped.

Jaime shrugged. “I’ve seen the way he looks
at you. Was that the same way Dad looked at you?”

Beverly bit her lip. “Grant and I are friends
and
colleagues,” she told him, deciding now wasn’t the right
time to say more. “And your father was too busy looking at himself
to notice me for the most part.”

“But he noticed you at least once, didn’t
he?” Jaime shot her a cold, crude look.

Beverly could barely believe he was talking
to her like this. Obviously her son was being told more about
intimacy between a man and woman than she was comfortable with at
this stage of his life.

“Yes,” she responded sharply. “And after that
he didn’t want to have anything to do with me—or you—” She was
always straight with Jaime where it concerned Diego. She saw no
need to paint a pretty picture about his father for false
consumption. There wasn’t anything pretty about abandonment,
disappointment, or betrayal.

“We’re doing just fine the way we are,”
pouted Jaime. “We don’t need
anyone
else in our lives.”

Meaning
she
didn’t need anyone else in
her
life except her twelve-year-old son who was growing up
way too fast. There had not been anyone else in her life for a very
long time. She had dedicated herself almost entirely to Jaime and
her career for longer than she cared to remember. Add to that in
the last two years, her father, with his declining health.

Wasn’t that enough? What more did her son
want from her?

Beverly wondered if it had been a mistake to
spoil Jaime for so many years with undivided affections and perhaps
too little attention given to respecting one’s elders. Could he
ever accept another person in her life, including his ailing
grandfather?

Well he would have to, as she wasn’t willing
to go back to the way things had been without romance and sex in
her life. Grant was someone Jaime would have to contend with sooner
or later if things remained on course as they were.

The phone rang, breaking the silent
standoff.

“I think that’s for me,” Beverly uttered,
though in no way feeling that was a certainty. Lately Jaime had
been on the phone enough that she was sure he’d soon be demanding
his own cell phone. She reached for the cordless on the table.

She could see from the caller I.D. that it
was Grant, making Beverly feel even more guilty of neglecting her
son. After taking a breath, she said, “Hello.”

“Flip the TV to channel 4.” Grant’s voice had
a tense catch to it.

“What’s on?” Beverly watched Jaime curl his
lip perceptively and leave the table, disappearing down the hall. A
moment later she heard his bedroom door slam, giving her a
shiver.

“You won’t believe it,” Grant said evasively.
“A real shocker! Hurry up!”

“All right, just a minute.”

Her curiosity piqued, Beverly went into the
hall, glancing once at Jaime’s closed door before moving towards
the sunken living room. She’d purchased the single-level patio home
nine years ago, right after passing the bar. It was in a beautiful
old Eagles Landing neighborhood, separated somewhat from other
homes by coastal redwood and lodgepole pine trees.

Grabbing the remote off the rustic log coffee
table, Beverly pointed it at the flat screen plasma TV.

A female anchor, Nancy Novak, stared
dramatically at the screen, while stating painfully, “In a recap of
our breaking story, Superior Court Judge Sheldon Crawford was shot
to death at his home tonight.” Beverly’s heart sank. “His wife,
Maxine Crawford, was rushed to the hospital. No word yet on her
condition. The assailant is apparently still on the loose and
considered armed and dangerous—”

CHAPTER FOUR

He came in the back door of the duplex,
hoping to avoid the usual confrontation with his old lady that
seemed to be the story of his life these days. His clothes were wet
and muddy. There was even some blood on his pants.

Damn!

He stepped into the kitchen and went over to
the sink. He could hear the TV upstairs and figured it was safe to
try and clean himself up a bit.

But she would never let him off that
easily.

“Where were you?” The voice blared out of the
shadows like a sonic boom.

He jumped, though wishing he hadn’t, and
faced her as she came into full view. A scowl ran the length of her
olive face. Her dark blonde hair was worn in a layered bob, and a
floral purple nightgown hung on wide hips.

“Out,” he said simply.

She moved closer, eyeing him suspiciously.
“What the... You look like hell!
Where have you been?
”

“At the lake.” It was true, in part. The rest
she was better off not knowing, for her own sake.

“You’ve got dirt all over you,” she spat,
giving him the once over with narrowed chocolate eyes. “What the
hell happened?”

He sniffed. The smell of death was repugnant
even to him. “You don’t really wanna know.”

Her gaze rested on the dark red spots on his
jeans. “You’re bleeding.”

He wiped at his pants self-consciously. “It
ain’t no big deal.”

She refused to leave it alone. Slapping a
hand on her hip, she demanded, “What have you done, Manuel?”

“I ain’t done nothin’!” She was starting to
piss him off—sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. One of these
days, he just might have to cut it off and shove it down her damned
throat.

She glared at him. “That’s
your
blood,
isn’t it?”

He had to think fast. He sure as hell
couldn’t tell her the truth and
nothing
but the truth. If
something went wrong, she could testify against him. Couldn’t she?
He’d heard that even a married woman could squeal on her husband,
if she had her mind made up to do so.

And knowing his old lady, her mind might
already be made up if he confided in her.

He smiled at her crookedly. “It’s fish blood.
I told you I was at the lake. Thought I’d reel in some dinner for
you, baby. Things got a little rough out there, but I stuck with
it.”

She darted her eyes from side to side with
serious misgiving. “So where’s the fish?”

“Out in the car,” he told her. “I just hadn’t
gotten ‘round to bringing it in. If you don’t believe me, go see
for yourself!”

Her nostrils ballooned. “If you’re
lying...”

“I’m not,” he insisted boldly. “Check it out.
Save me a trip to the car. I’ll go clean up and then fry it for
you.”

As he expected, she gave him the benefit of
the doubt, dragging her lazy, ass back upstairs without another
word. He would drop by the market and pick up some fish. She’d
never know the difference.

Bitch
.

His secret was safe for now. Maybe forever,
if he had his way, like the others.

He opened the fridge and got out a beer,
opening it and taking a giant swig in one motion.

He thought about the sweet looking woman he’d
accosted at the park. She had not gone down easily. In fact, she’d
put up one hell of a struggle, battling him tooth and nails to the
very end. It had aroused him like never before.

He loved a broad with spunk—especially one
who probably wouldn’t have given a Latino like him the time of day.
Not until he took it and her life, as a bonus.

CHAPTER FIVE

Beverly had agreed to meet Grant at Eagles
Landing Medical Center’s emergency room, where Maxine Crawford had
been taken. It was what Grant called a preemptive strike, given the
attention Judge Crawford’s murder was likely to generate. The
Eagles Landing Police Department would be under tremendous pressure
to make an arrest and the Wilameta County District Attorney’s
office to get a swift and decisive conviction.

All else would have to take a back seat for
the time being.

The fact that Judge Crawford’s last trial had
taken place that very afternoon in a case Beverly had successfully
prosecuted along with Grant, meant that they would be on the hot
seat on this one.

Was that trial connected to the judge’s
death? Beverly wondered, entering the doors to the ER. Maybe it was
some form of payback for upholding the guilty verdict against
Suzanne Landon. But who would do such a thing after the fact?

Beverly had told Jaime she wasn’t sure when
she would be back, wishing the timing had been different. She was
confident that in his own way he understood that her career
obligations sometimes included working after hours and with little
to no warning. Fortunately Jaime had reached the age where he could
take care of himself for short lengths of time when she wasn’t
there, though she always tried to be there when he got home from
school and most evenings. She was proud of him for his maturity and
responsibility, even if he may have grown up a little too fast for
her comfort.

There were still outstanding issues the two
of them would have to resolve. And one of them included Grant.

Beverly spotted Grant pacing around in the
lobby as though he had lost his best friend. As far as she knew, he
and Judge Crawford were only casually acquainted, which was more
than her own relationship with the judge. She knew him only in the
courtroom. Even then, Sheldon Crawford struck her as somewhat
distant and unapproachable.

When Grant saw Beverly he met her halfway,
giving her a lightning quick hug. “Thanks for coming.”

Beverly nodded, while thinking that he looked
tired and ill at ease—unlike this afternoon when he was full of
life and comfortable with her...inside her.

“Have you found out anything?”

“Nothing.” He threw his arms up in disgust.
“The doctors aren’t talking about her condition. Maxine Crawford
could be dying in there for all we know.”

“What did the police say?” Beverly could see
what looked to be detectives just down the hall. She thought she
recognized one as Detective Joe O’Dell of the Eagles Landing Police
Department’s, Homicide Division. They had worked together on a case
or two. He had proven himself to be a thorough cop and an excellent
witness.

“Doesn’t look like she was shot,” said Grant.
“Just bruised and in shock.”

Beverly curled her lashes. “Who wouldn’t be
in
shock
, under the circumstances?” She tried to
imagine what it would be like to see your husband murdered right in
front of you. She wondered why the assailant didn’t kill the
judge’s wife, instead leaving an eyewitness to the crime who could
testify against him. Had Mrs. Crawford gotten a look at him? Was it
a male? Beverly had just finished a case where the culprit was a
female. Who says it wasn’t a woman who offed the judge? “Do you
think this could have had anything to do with the case we just
tried?” she asked.

Grant scratched his cheek. “Hadn’t really
thought about it,” he said artlessly. “Judge Crawford has
undoubtedly made more than his share of enemies over the
years.”

“But it was the timing of the attack,”
Beverly said. “What if someone acting on behalf of Suzanne Landon
decided to take out their revenge on her conviction by killing the
judge who presided over her trial?” Even while saying it, Beverly
realized that since the penalty phase had not yet taken place,
there seemed little point in killing the judge beforehand. Unless
the killer believed it would somehow make a difference in
sentencing.

“I didn’t get the feeling that Suzanne Landon
had much of a fan club,” Grant voiced dismissively. “Besides, if
she wanted to get anyone, it would be the people who convicted her
of first degree murder!”

He favored Beverly with narrowed eyes, as if
to point the finger at the two of them. The notion left her
slightly unsettled.

“My point is that Landon is probably not
behind Crawford’s death.” Grant’s brow furrowed. “That doesn’t make
it any less disturbing.”

Beverly agreed. So who hated the judge enough
to want to kill him? Could be anyone who ever came into his
courtroom, she decided.

Danger lurked at every turn for those who
worked in the criminal justice system. It came with the territory.
She herself had come face to face with death as a result of a case
she had worked on. The most recent time was last year when a serial
rapist on trial and out on bail actually cornered her in a bank
parking lot. He had managed to threaten her with bodily harm and
may have actually put words into action had a bank employee not
come to the rescue.

Since then Beverly had carried a loaded .40
caliber Glock in her purse, and was prepared to use it if she had
to.

Surely the judge must have had a gun, given
the routine threats he probably received. Obviously he never got
the chance to use it.

Beverly cringed and gazed up at Grant. “Were
you friends with the judge?” she asked curiously.

He shook his head. “Not really. I’ve played
racquetball with him on occasion while talking shop unofficially,
but never socialized much outside of that. Why?”

“No reason.” She twisted her lips musingly.
“Just thought since you were here, you might have some inside
information on why the judge was attacked.”

Grant favored her steadily. “Yeah, I wish it
were that simple. I don’t know any more than you do. I came to try
and stay ahead of the curve in learning just what happened at the
judge’s house tonight and how the D.A.’s office might approach
it.”

Beverly considered Judge Crawford’s wife for
a moment. They had never met, but she had heard that Maxine
Crawford was a good deal younger than her husband. And gorgeous.
Might the attack have been directed towards her?

“It was a good idea to see what we can learn
before everyone else does,” she said.