Tribal Court (4 page)

Chapter 6

Brunelle snatched the paper out of Freddy's hand and scanned the page.

"'Blood revenge'?" he read aloud. "What the hell type of defense is that?"

"It's a type justifiable homicide," Freddy answered. He pointed at Talon's pleading. "It says so right there."

Brunelle squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them, he stared right at Talon. "Blood revenge?"

"Blood revenge," she grinned.

"Blood revenge," the judge repeated slowly, obviously trying the idea on for size. And obviously liking it.

Brunelle shook his head.

"Sometimes," Talon beamed, "being several steps ahead means you've reached the other side when the bridge collapses under your opponent's feet."

~*~

"Revenge?" Chen asked across his desk. "How is that a defense? It's a reason—maybe a good one—but it's not a defense."

"Well, not just revenge," Brunelle answered, leaning back in the chair opposite the detective. "Blood revenge. It's an old Indian tradition, I guess. Kind of an honor killing."

"Honor killing?" It was Kat. She'd suddenly appeared in Chen's doorway, bearing reports. "Isn't that when they stone some girl to death because her uncle molested her?"

Brunelle stood up awkwardly, shaken by Kat's unexpected appearance. Then he was irritated at himself for being so obvious about his surprise. "Er, I don't know. Maybe. But here, they killed the molester."

Kat raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?" She threw the reports on Chen's desk without comment.

Chen glanced at them and offered a nod of thanks.

"Um. Yeah," Brunelle went on. He wished he weren't so uncomfortable around her. She seemed to feed off it somehow. She leveled a glance at him both inviting and ice cold. "That murder in Pioneer Square, remember? Our victim was a child molester."

"Oh, right," Kat smiled. "The suicide."

"Blood revenge," Chen corrected. "Apparently that's a defense."

Kat glanced sideways at Brunelle. "Oh, really?" she practically threatened. "That's good to know."

Brunelle shook his head. "No, sorry, it's only available to Native Americans, and it has to be something more than some guy just not calling you."

"What makes you think I'm not Native?" Kat put her hands on her hips. "And what makes you think I care that you haven't called me?"

Brunelle's eyes narrowed against her unexpected questions. He decided to ignore them for the moment and press on with his explanation. "They're claiming that since the tribal court's jurisdiction comes from a hundred-and-fifty-year-old treaty, they get to raise a hundred-and-fifty-year-old defenses. Apparently, the way blood revenge worked, if you killed someone in another tribe, then that other tribe could kill someone from your tribe."

Chen frowned. "Did Traver kill someone?"

Brunelle threw his hands wide. "Thank you! No, he didn't. So the defense shouldn't even be available."

"What did he do?" Kat asked.

Brunelle rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, well… He diddled the defendant's niece."

Kat's face hardened. "Yep. Not guilty. Easy verdict."

"Yep. You're not on my jury. Easy decision," Brunelle parroted. "The lead detective and the medical examiner both on the side of the defendant. This trial should go great."

"So don't call us as witnesses." Kat winked at Chen.

"I'm pretty sure I have to," Brunelle complained. "You, at least. Somebody's gotta tell the jury how Traver died."

Kat nodded. "Good point. Well, just keep it short and sweet. Is he dead? Yep. Somebody stab him? Yep. No further questions."

Brunelle surrendered a weak grin. "Yeah, that'll be great… until cross exam. When the defense attorney gets you to tell the jury the bastard deserved it."

Brunelle sighed as he remembered Talon. How she was already three steps ahead of him. How she called him a jackass. How she looked in that red blouse.

"What's he like?" Kat asked.

The question shook Brunelle from his thoughts. "Who?"

"The defense attorney," Kat clarified. "What's he like?"

"Oh, um," Brunelle stammered. "Pretty good, I think. I've never met her before, but she seemed pretty damn prepared at that stupid status conference."

Brunelle tried to hide his thoughts by glancing out Chen's window.

Kat paused. "She?"

"Hm?" Brunelle turned back from the window but didn't quite look at her.

"The defense attorney is a woman?"

"Um, yeah," Brunelle nodded. "I guess so."

Kat laughed. "'I guess so,' he says."

Chen stood up. "I'm going to go look for a report or something. I'll be back a long time from now."

"Coward," Brunelle teased.

"Takes one to know one," Chen whispered as he slipped into the hallway.

Kat crossed her arms and just stared at Brunelle for several seconds. He could feel himself flushing under her gaze. He tried not to think of Talon's hair.

"She's totally hot, isn't she?" Kat demanded.

"No," Brunelle replied too loudly and too quickly. "No. Not at all."

Kat cocked her head. "I'm going to see her when I testify, dummy."

Brunelle ran a hand over his hair. "Oh, right," he sighed. "Okay, yeah. She's a total hottie. Almost beyond description. I can barely think. But, she's also a total bitch. So yeah, totally hot total bitch."

Kat clicked her tongue. "Tsk, tsk, Mr. Brunelle. We finally get a chance to talk and it ends with you telling me how hot some other woman is."

Brunelle finally looked her in the eye. "Why is that how it ends?"

"Because I'm leaving." She gave a last, confirming glance at the reports she'd left on Chen's desk, then turned to leave. "Say 'Hi' to Freddy for me."

"You know Freddy McCloud?" Brunelle asked, the surprise in his voice clear.

"Yep," Kat answered with a grin. "We dated when he was in law school and I was a resident at Tacoma General. Right after Lizzy's dad and I split up."

Brunelle nodded thoughtfully, but didn't say anything.

"He's a really nice guy," Kat went on. "You could learn a thing or two from him."

Then she walked away without another word.

Brunelle shook his head and looked out the window again. His mind raced from Talon to Kat to Freddy to the dead form of George Traver.

"Revenge," he muttered.

Chapter 7

Kat's parting words shook Brunelle more than he would have liked to admit. He spent the rest of the afternoon drafting charging documents that normally wouldn't have taken him more than thirty minutes to create. As the day drew to a close and he was satisfied he was prepared for the next morning's arraignment, he picked up the phone and booked a room at the hotel across the street from the casino.

There was no way he was going to risk being late again because of bad traffic or a blocking accident. He was going to be within walking distance, file in hand. He knew when it came time for trial, he'd be spending a couple of weeks down there. Might as well get used to it.

Besides, he could unwind over a beer and blackjack.

Once he was checked in, he walked across the street and took out fifty bucks from the casino's ATM. That would be his limit. Once it was gone, he'd head back to his room.

Three hours later, he still had forty bucks in his wallet and too many beers in his bloodstream.

He stood up from the blackjack table and decided to walk around the casino for a bit to clear his head. He drained the last of his beer and calculated how long it would be until he felt sober again. He knew from his early days prosecuting DUIs that his body would burn off about one drink an hour.

He looked at his watch. He needed another hour without drinking.

He looked at his empty beer bottle. Or one more beer and two more hours of blackjack.

He sat down at the bar in the center of the cavernous, smoke-filled casino and ordered another beer. Then he ran a hand over his short hair as he tried to figure out why he felt so bad about Kat storming out on him.

He hadn't said anything that wasn't true. Didn't women always say they wanted honesty? And anyway, she'd brought it up, not him. She'd forced the issue. It wasn't his fault Talon was hot; it was Talon's. And anyway, she was a bitch. A shrew. That was one of those words nobody used any more, but it fit perfectly. And weren't shrews supposed to be tamed? Who was going to tame her? Him? Not likely. He was a jackass. And besides, nothing gets a conviction overturned on appeal like the prosecutor sleeping with the defense attorney. Not like that ever happened, but he didn't want to be the first. He didn't need that. He didn't need her either. And he didn't need Kat. Maybe that's why she was so mad, because he hadn't called her, hadn't followed up on what they both felt. Didn't she understand he didn't want to endanger her? Sure, they could have just hooked up, no strings attached, but he knew it wouldn't have stopped there. Maybe that's what he was scared of. Maybe he should just try for another barmaid.

He looked up at the woman serving the drinks.

"Never mind," he muttered. And he was definitely too drunk to drive all the way back up to Seattle before closing time.

"Never mind what?"

Brunelle turned sharply at the voice sitting down next to him. It was Freddy. Freddy, the really nice guy. Always smiling. No wonder Kat liked him. Or had liked him. Or still did.

Brunelle grabbed his forehead. Thinking hurt.

He lowered his hand and shook his head. "Like I said, never mind." Then he returned his partner's smile. "What are you doing here?"

Freddy shrugged and patted his thick gut. "Best food in Tacoma. I had dinner, then stuck around for some slots. I was just heading out when I saw you sitting here."

He looked at Brunelle's hand on his beer and appraised the flush on his face. "You're not driving back up to Seattle tonight, are you?"

Brunelle shook his head. "No. I got a hotel room. I didn't want to be late to old man LeClair's courtroom tomorrow morning.

Freddy spun and faced forward on his barstool. "Good thinking. He's gonna give you shit the whole trial, just because you're not Native. No reason to piss him off extra."

"Hardly seems fair," Brunelle complained. "But I'll deal with it. Lots of judges are jerks for lots of different reasons."

Freddy shrugged. "If you say so. But he's gonna let Talon go to town on her stupid blood revenge defense."

"Stupid?" Brunelle knotted his eyebrows. "I thought you said it was brilliant?"

"It can be both," Freddy grinned. "It's brilliant of Talon to raise it. I mean, really, her guy's guilty as hell. He had blood on his hands, for Christ's sake. So if you can't deny it, justify it. That's brilliant. But it's stupid because that's not how it really worked."

Brunelle cocked his head. "It's not?"

"Nope." Freddy looked straight ahead as he explained, usual smile lost in a serious expression, hands extended to emphasize his points. "Talon's trying to make blood revenge a judicial remedy. But it wasn't judicial. It was extra-judicial. If someone killed someone in your tribe, then you killed someone in theirs and it was over. No need for the chiefs to get involved. That was the whole point. Self help."

"Okay, but isn't that what Quilcene did?" Brunelle countered.

Freddy shrugged. "Sort of. I don't know. I guess I'm not explaining it very well. I think if you were going to do that, really going to do that, then Talon and LeClair better realize what they're doing. Blood revenge didn't always end it. Remember, how someone killed someone in your family because you killed someone in theirs? Well, guess what? Now someone's killed someone in your family. So you get to kill someone in theirs. Now it's a blood feud. It might never end."

Brunelle nodded. "Good point. Kind of a policy argument. We can argue that blood revenge was a bad idea and—"

Freddy raised a hand. "Oh, I didn't say blood revenge was a bad idea." He turned to Brunelle again, his smile back and on full display. But different somehow. "I think it's a great idea. Just let them handle it. Keep us out of it. Traver molests Quilcene's niece, so Quilcene kills him. Fine. Then someone from Traver's family kills Quilcene or one of his relatives. And we stay the hell out of it."

Brunelle shook his head. "Not gonna happen. Quilcene's in custody and my detective says Traver didn't have any family."

Freddy's smile faded a bit. "Is that right?"

"Yeah," Brunelle answered. "So maybe the blood feud ends here after all."

Freddy looked straight ahead again and nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

The conversation was starting to sober Brunelle up. He slid his beer away. "I think I'm done drinking. Wanna play a few hands of blackjack before calling it a night?"

Freddy was quick to beg off. "No, that's okay." He tapped his hands on the countertop. "Thanks anyway, but I think I'm gonna head out. I've got some things to do. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sounds good," Brunelle patted him on the back as they both stood up. "See you tomorrow."

As Freddy started to walk away, Brunelle felt glad for the relief their shop talk had brought to his melancholic ruminations. But realizing that made him think of Kat again.

"Oh, hey, Freddy!" he called out after him through the casino crowd. "Kat says 'Hi'!"

But Freddy didn't turn around. Apparently, it was too loud in the casino between the ringing slots and the talking patrons. Brunelle watched him walk out to the south parking lot and disappear into the black night.

Brunelle pulled out his wallet and stared at the forty-odd dollars he had left. He scanned the casino and spotted a poker table. Perfect. It would take him no time to lose forty dollars at poker.

~*~

Brunelle stepped out into the south parking lot. It was starting to rain—just a light mist really. The blacktop was glistening and a fine spray tickled his face. He welcomed the sensation. One more thing to wake him up for his walk back to the hotel.

He shook his head at himself. Part of the reason he'd walked to the casino, despite the ever-present threat of rain in the the fall, was the thought—hope?—that Talon might be there and he didn't want to take another one of her usual parking spots. He didn't want her to call him jackass again. Silly how he'd changed his behavior because of a woman he knew he'd never actually be with.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and wondered what was wrong with himself. But just as he began ticking back through past lovers, his thoughts were shattered by a scream.

It sounded like a girl but the voice was a man's. Brunelle knew a man screaming like a girl was bad. Maybe very bad.

He ran in the direction of the scream, toward the grassy strip separating the casino parking lot from the tribe's administration building. He got there at the same time as two other casino patrons who'd also been in the parking lot.

"Step back," Brunelle ordered as they reached the scene. The crime scene, he knew.

A young man, maybe even a teenager, lay on the grass, eyes open and glassy. Large blotches, black in the parking lot lights, stained his shirt—one at his stomach, the other over his heart. Brunelle knelt down and checked for a pulse under the boy's 'NGB' neck tattoo. Nothing.

"He's dead," Brunelle announced.

"That's not the worst of it."

Brunelle jerked his head up to see Freddy standing there, rain dripping from his hair and his chest heaving. He pointed at the victim.

"That's Bobby Quilcene. Johnny's cousin."