State's Evidence: A Beverly Mendoza Legal Thriller (43 page)

“Whenever. Don’t wait up.”

Isabel dared touch his arm, having a sinking
feeling. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re not
gonna get yourself in more trouble are you, Rafael?”

Her son peered at her with unblinking eyes.
“What do you think? It ain’t me who causes trouble. It’s the ones
who get in my business.” His voice softened. “Don’t worry about me.
I just need to take care of a few things and then we can
talk...”

Impulsively Isabel hugged Rafael and kissed
him on the cheek. “Yes, I’d like to talk.”

He met her gaze with a halfhearted grin and
left.

Isabel was trembling even before she went to
find her cat, Loda, fearful that it could be the last time she ever
saw her son.

She found it odd that Loda wasn’t running
around as she loved to do. Maybe the cat had been intimidated by
Rafael’s presence and was hiding. Isabel looked everywhere, but
still no sign of Loda. The last place she tried was the bathroom.
The door was shut and she might have thought it was still being
occupied had Rafael not just left.

Isabel walked up to the tub. It was filled
with dirty, soapy water. She was just about to pull the stopper out
when she noticed something in the water.

Isabel jumped back and screamed in horror.
Loda was in the soapy water, a victim of drowning.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Stone was just getting out of the shower when
greeted by his wife with a fluffy blue towel.

“Better dry off in a hurry,” Joyce said. “You
have a phone call from Isabel Santiago. Isn’t she the mother
of—”

“Yeah—of both of them,” Stone said
succinctly.

“I thought so. Well, I told her I’d have you
call back, but she insisted on talking to you now. So—” Joyce
handed him the towel, a worried look on her face. “What does she
want with you?”

Stone considered the question while drying.
He had given Isabel Santiago his work and cell phone numbers,
promising to help should Rafael prove to be more than she could
handle. Now Stone wondered about the wisdom of sticking his nose
where it probably shouldn’t have been. This case was more or less
over and it was time for him to move on. Or be left behind.

His brows touched in gazing at Joyce. “Guess
we’ll find out in a moment—”

Stone took the call in their bedroom. “Mrs.
Santiago,” he spoke politely.

“You said I was free to call you. Did you
mean it?” Her voice shook.

“I meant it,” he said. “How can I help
you?”

“It’s Rafael...”

“What about him?”

“I just wanted to keep my son from going back
to prison. That’s why I told the police what I did.”

Stone recalled hearing that Isabel was
Santiago’s alibi the night Sheldon and Maxine Crawford were
victimized. “Are you saying you were lying to cover for your son?”
Not that it made a hell of a lot of difference at this point. The
deal had already been made to send her other son to prison for the
rest of his life while freeing Santiago.

Without making a liar out of herself, Isabel
deflected the question and said instead, “Rafael killed my
cat...”

Stone reacted in disbelief. “Are you
sure?”

Again Isabel moved on to something else on
her mind. “I saw the look in his eyes... I don’t want nobody else
to get hurt.”

“Like who?”

“Whoever he’s carrying a grudge against—”

* * *

Stone watched as Manuel Gonzalez entered the
interrogation room in handcuffs and shackles, along with a jail
guard who looked like he could have been a starter on the Oakland
Raiders front line.

Why the hell am I here on a wild goose
chase instead of home with my wife and kids?
Probably because
the department never would have authorized it and Stone’s instincts
told him this case wasn’t over, even if everyone wanted it to
be.

“You can remove the shackles,” Stone told the
guard. “Manuel isn’t much to fear when he doesn’t have a knife or
gun to use.”

“Suit yourself, man,” the guard muttered and
detached the shackles before leaving them alone.

Manuel flopped onto a chair. “Why am I here,
man?” he asked curiously.

Stone sat across from him, sharpening his
gaze. “Had a question for you.”

“Yeah what?”

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?” Manuel chewed on his lower
lip.

“Fool the hell out of the polygraph
machine.”

Manuel laughed. “What’s makes you so sure of
that?”

I’m not sure, but I want you to think I
am
. “For one, your story about the alleged affair between
Adrienne Murray and Judge Sheldon Crawford doesn’t check out.”

Manuel rolled fingers through his hair.
“Yeah. So sue me. Just don’t expect to collect. They don’t pay much
in prison.”

Stone pinned his gaze on the prisoner. “Must
pinch a little knowing that your twin brother is a free man—free to
do the things you used to do.”

Manuel shrugged. “That’s the way it goes. He
served his time.”

“So what, now it’s your turn to do a stretch
in the pen—to make amends for the time he spent there? You think
that’s what identical twins are supposed to do, cover for each
other?

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,
man.”

“Don’t I?” Stone sensed otherwise. “Look,
Manuel, your deal is already in place and nothing can change it.
The D.A.’s office is not about to make more of a laughing stock out
of itself than it already has by retrying Rafael.”

“Yeah, so what you want from me?” Manuel set
his jaw.

“The truth, just for my own peace of mind,”
Stone said.

“And why would I care about your peace of
mind, man? What the hell’s in it for me?”

Not much, asshole. But maybe just a little
compassion for the one person on this planet who may still give a
damn about you
.

“You’re right, Manuel. I wouldn’t expect you
to lose any sleep on account of my peace of mind.” Stone paused and
waited till their eyes connected. “I was hoping that you might make
it easier for your mother. Yeah, I know all about how she dumped
you off on another woman, causing you to have one problem after
another. I also know she regrets it and never stopped loving
you.”

Manuel licked his lips. “I don’t wanna here
this.”

“I know you don’t,” Stone said. “I’m not
asking you to forgive her. What I am saying is that if you have a
decent bone in that body of yours somewhere, you’ll give her a
break. Right now she’s scared to death that Rafael is out to do
more harm, especially after he drowned her cat in the bathtub.”

“What!” Manuel glared at him. “Rafael
wouldn’t do that.”

“Look, we both know what he’s capable of. We
just don’t know who’s next on his hit list. If we can stop him
before he starts then no one else has to suffer, including
Isabel—”

Manuel leaned forward. “You wearin’ a wire or
something?”

“I’m not wearing anything.” Stone stood and
patted himself for the prisoner’s benefit. In fact he was wearing a
wire, just in case anything useful came out of the conversation.
“What you have to say is just between you and me.”

Manuel seemed to mull this over. “All right.
I’ll just say that Rafael ain’t through yet. He still blames that
black judge Grant Nunez for sending him to prison back when the
dude was still a prosecutor. And he also wants some payback from
the good lookin’ Latina lawyer bitch for trying to bring him down
again.”

Beverly Mendoza, Stone mused. He had
considered that Santiago had a beef with Beverly and Grant Nunez,
but didn’t figure him to be stupid enough to actually go after
them.

Well, think again.

Stone looked across the table at Santiago’s
twin killer. “Just one more question. How did you manage to nail
your story about the crimes against the Crawfords so accurately? Or
were you there?”

Manuel eyed him askance, grinning. “Already
said what I’m gonna about that.” He paused and seemed to have
second thoughts. “Rafael gave me the scoop word for word, man,
blow-by-blow—passing the information through other inmates. It was
easy. I just memorized what I needed to and made up the rest. Guess
it was close enough.”

“Yeah, guess it was.”

Stone doubted that the conversation would be
enough to put Rafael Santiago back on trial for crimes he
committed. But it was enough to convince him that the lives of
Beverly Mendoza and Grant Nunez were in danger.

They needed to be warned and Santiago located
before it was too late.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

The gun was buried in a shallow grave not far
from the apartment building. It was one of many such burial grounds
scattered across the vacant lots and dilapidated, abandoned
buildings in that part of town. Rafael dug it out with his bare
hands. He had somehow felt that he would be reunited with the piece
again someday.

Looks like today’s my lucky day! But not so
lucky for others.

Kissing the .25 caliber handgun, he stuck it
inside his pants. He had some unfinished business to take care
of.

It was time to collect from those who owed
him.

That bastard, Judge Crawford got his.

His whore wife was a freebie, and worth the
effort. Rafael had recognized her the moment he saw her pretty
face. Before she hooked up with the judge, he had watched her dance
in the strip clubs, knowing then that she would do whatever men
with enough cash paid her to do.

Only he took his for free. And made the bitch
beg for her life for his trouble.

Maybe when this is over I’ll pay her
another visit.
This time it would be for keeps!

Right now it was time for the lawyer who had
sent him to prison to get what was coming to him. The asshole was
now a judge. One who had tried to put him away again.

Just like his lady lover bitch had tried to
do.

Both would pay dearly with their lives.

But with the prosecutor broad, Rafael would
have some fun first. Just as Manuel had tried to do before they
stopped him in his tracks. He would make Beverly Mendoza feel
everything the judge’s whore felt. Only twice as much. Before he
killed her.

Maybe he’d torture and kill the bitch’s son
right in front of her. Then she would know what it really meant to
hurt in ways she could not even imagine.

Already Rafael was starting to feel good
again and glad to get another chance to make things right before
disappearing for good.

He had Judge Grant Nunez to thank for that.
He intended to thank him personally.

Along with the Assistant D.A., Beverly
Mendoza.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Grant greeted Beverly with a kiss on the
cheek and gave Jaime a low five. He was glad to be able to get
together with them again socially, without a cloud hanging over
their relationship. The Santiago-Gonzalez situation was unfortunate
for everyone, but ended as it should have: with someone in custody
for the murder of Grant’s predecessor and the sexual assault of
Maxine Crawford. Maybe a quiet, or not so quiet, dinner was just
what they needed to get back on the right track for what Grant
hoped would become a real family.

“I’ll bet you’re hungry, champ,” he said to
Jaime.

“Yeah, kinda,” he said.

Grant smiled. “Well, we’ll see what was can
do about that. I don’t claim to be the world’s greatest chef, but I
know enough to have cooked up something appetizing. Of course,
you’ll have to be the judge in this case—along with your
mother.”

Beverly laughed. “At least someone else gets
to be the judge this time around.”

Grant laughed at her weak attempt at humor
and Beverly marveled at the sight of him in an light brown blazer
over a white sweater and black slacks. For an instant she imagined
him with no clothes on at all. It warmed her up and Beverly quickly
shut off such thoughts until later.

“This is way cool,” exclaimed Jaime, studying
a model of the Titanic that Grant purchased last year at an estate
sale.

“Yes, cool,” agreed Grant. “Although I’m
afraid it was downright frigid for those 1500 plus poor souls who
failed to escape the real Titanic.”

Jaime cringed at the sad news, then perked up
when Grant smartly switched subjects and began talking about sports
and going to see the San Francisco Giants or Oakland A’s in the
spring.

Beverly thought they were getting along
better than she could have expected these days. She’d wanted Jaime
to have a father figure in his life, especially when her own father
had developed Alzheimer’s disease. Grant seemed to have voluntarily
stepped in to fill the role and for that she was grateful, but not
greedy. When and if the time came to make that official she would
be ready and more than willing.

“Can I go outside?” Jaime looked to his
mother, then Grant. “I just want to stretch my legs.”

“I’m sure dinner will be ready soon,” said
Beverly, seeking to discourage him from going out. Not that Grant
didn’t live in one of the better parts of Eagles Landing with crime
rarely an issue. She recalled feeling the same way recently about
where they lived. Before Manuel Gonzalez had shattered that myth
into a thousand pieces.

“Actually dinner is still about a half hour
away,” Grant said. “Why don’t you go play in the backyard? There’s
a hoop back there and plenty of room to stretch those legs.”

“Okay.” Jaime grinned at his mother. “See ya
in a bit.”

He scurried away before Beverly could utter a
word of objection, racing out the door. She could hear his
footsteps stomping across the concrete towards the backyard.

Grant smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, baby, if I
said the wrong thing. He’ll be okay. I know it’s hard to let him
grow up, but it has to happen sooner or later. Besides, I think I
like being a parent. Or at least someone that Jaime can look up to
for guidance and authority.”