Wild Justice (6 page)

screaming human being.

14 Bobby Vasquez parked in his assigned spot in the lot of his low-rent garden apartment. On one side of the complex was the interstate and on the other a strip mall. Truth was, between the IRS and his child support payments, this was the best he could afford. There were two rows of mailboxes near the parking spot. Vasquez collected his mail and thumbed through it while he climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment. Ads and bills. What did he expect? Who would write him? Vasquez opened his door and flipped on the light. The furniture in the living room was secondhand and covered by a thin layer of dust. Sections of a three-day-old Oregonian littered the floor, the threadbare couch and one end of a low plywood coffee table. Each weekend Vasquez vowed to clean up, but he made an effort only when the dirt and debris overwhelmed him. He was rarely home, anyway. Undercover work kept him out at odd hours. When he wasn t working he kept company with Yvette Stewart, a cocktail waitress at the cop bar where he did his serious drinking. His wife had left him because he was never around, and he had continued the tradition after moving to this shithole. Vasquez tossed his mail onto the coffee table and walked into the kitchen. There was nothing in the refrigerator but a six-pack, a carton of spoiled milk and a half-eaten loaf of stale bread. Vasquez didn t care. He was too exhausted to be hungry, anyway. Too exhausted to sleep, too. Vasquez flopped onto the couch, popped the top on a beer can and flipped channels until he found ESPN. He closed his eyes and ran the cold can across his forehead. Everything was going just fine so far. Cardoni was in jail, and everyone seemed to have bought his story about the search. It felt good on those rare occasions when things went right for a change. Another thing that cheered Vasquez was Cardoni s claim that he did not own the Milton County house. Something like that was easy to check. Vasquez turned off the set and pushed himself off the couch. He crumpled the sections of the newspaper and the beer can and threw them in the trash. Then he dragged himself into the bathroom. While he brushed his teeth he savored the fact that Dr. Vincent Cardoni was spending the first of what would be an endless number of days behind bars.

15 Frank Jaffe sat in a back booth in Stokely s Cafn Jefferson Street in Cedar City and finished his apple pie while reading the final page of the police reports Fred Scofield had given him earlier that morning. The cafad always been an oasis for Frank, his father and other weary hunters exhausted from hours of trudging through thick underbrush with nothing to show for their efforts but scratches, running noses and tales about the giant bucks that got away. It was the first place Frank had ordered a cup of coffee and sipped a beer. When Amanda was old enough, Frank had taught her how to shoot and introduced her to the wonders of Stokely s chicken-fried steak and hot apple pie. Frank finished his coffee and paid the check. The Milton County jail was three blocks away on Jefferson in a modern annex behind the county courthouse, and Frank set off in that direction. In the days of Frank s youth, the population of Cedar City hovered around thirteen hundred and Jefferson had been the only paved street, but developers had ruined the town. Family-owned hardware and grocery stores were dying a slow death as national chains moved in; there was a mall with a multiplex cinema at the east end of town; Stokely s was forced to include caffatte on its menu in order to survive; and the three-story red-brick courthouse on Jefferson was one of the few buildings that was more than thirty years old. After checking in with the deputy at the reception desk, Frank was led to the attorney visiting room. A few moments later the thick metal door opened and Vincent Cardoni was brought in. The surgeon was dressed in an orange jail-issue jumpsuit, and there were dark circles under his eyes. As soon as the guard locked them in, Cardoni glared at Frank. Where the hell have you been? I thought you were coming first thing this morning. I met with Fred Scofield first, Frank answered calmly. He gave me some discovery that I needed to read through before we met. Frank placed a stack of police reports on the cheap wooden table that separated them. This set is for you. I thought we could go over some of it before the bail hearing. Frank handed Cardoni a copy of the criminal complaint. There are two counts against you now. The first involves the cocaine that the cops found in your bedroom. Frank paused. The other is a charge of aggravated murder for killing Mary Sandowski, the woman on the tape. I didn t Frank cut him off. Sandowski was found on property about twenty-five miles from here. More corpses were buried a short distance from the cabin where they discovered two severed heads. Most of the victims were tortured. I don t care what happened at that cabin. I didn t do it. Your word alone isn t going to be enough to win this case. Scofield has several witnesses who will testify that you attacked Mary Sandowski in the hallway of St. Francis. Cardoni looked exasperated. He addressed Frank the way he might talk to a not-too-bright child. Haven t I made myself clear, Frank? I do not own a house in Milton County, and I do not know a thing about these murders. What about the videocassette? McCarthy says your prints are on it. That s easy. The person who planted it obviously stole it from my house, taped over what was on it and returned it. And the cocaine they found in your bedroom? The question surprised Cardoni. He colored and broke eye contact with Jaffe. Well? Frank asked. It s mine. I thought you were going to get help after I got you out of that last scrape. Don t preach at me, Frank. Do you hear me preaching? What? Now you re disappointed in me? Fuck that. You re my lawyer, not a priest or a shrink, so let s get back to these bullshit charges. What else do the cops have? Your prints are on a scalpel with Sandowski s blood on it. They were also on a half-filled coffee mug that was found next to the kitchen sink. Suddenly Cardoni looked interested. What kind of coffee mug? It s in here someplace. Frank shuffled through the stack of police reports until he found what he was after. He gave two photocopied sheets to Cardoni. One showed the mug sitting on the kitchen counter, and the other was a close-up. Cardoni looked up triumphantly. Justine bought this mug for me in one of those boutiques on Twenty-third Street when we were dating. It was in my office at St. Francis until it disappeared a few weeks ago. I thought one of the cleaning people stole it. What about the scalpel? I m a surgeon, Frank! I handle scalpels every day. It s obvious. Someone is framing me. Frank thought about that possibility. He thumbed through the police reports. This whole thing started with Bobby Vasquez, the cop with the mustache who watched the tape with us. He got a tip that you purchased two kilos of cocaine from Martin Breach and were storing them in a cabin you owned in the mountains near Cedar City. Vasquez claims that an informant corroborated the tip. He went to the cabin to search and found the severed heads in a refrigerator in the makeshift operating room we saw on the tape. Who gave Vasquez the tip? Cardoni asked. It was anonymous. Really? How convenient. A thought occurred to Frank. Does Martin Breach supply your cocaine? I said I didn t want to talk about the blow. I have a reason for asking. Do you buy from Breach? No, but the guy I buy from might. I don t know his source. Frank made some notes on a yellow pad. Let s talk about Clifford Grant. Cardoni looked confused. What s this about Grant? That cop asked me about him at the house. Frank told Cardoni about the investigation into Breach s black-market organ sales, the tip from the police in Montreal and the failed raid at the private airport. It looks like the organs were being removed at the Milton County house, but the police are certain that Grant didn t harvest the heart. They think he had a partner. And they think the partner is me? Cardoni asked calmly. Frank nodded. Well, they re wrong. If they are, someone went to a hell of a lot of trouble to frame you. Who hates you enough to do that, Vince? Before Cardoni could answer, the door opened and the guard entered carrying a plastic clothing bag. Frank looked at his watch. It was nine-forty. We ve only got twenty minutes until the bail hearing. I brought a suit, shirt and tie for you from your house. Put them on and I ll meet you in court. Read through the discovery carefully. You re a very bright guy, Vince. Help me figure this out. The bail hearing in State v. Cardoni was held on the second floor of the county courthouse in the pre World War I courtroom of the Honorable Patrick Brody. Frank and his client sat at one counsel table and Scofield at another. Beyond the bar of the court were rows of hard wooden benches for spectators. Most days a few retirees and a sprinkling of interested parties were the only visitors, but the benches were packed for the hearing. Vans with network logos on their sides and satellite dishes on their roofs jammed the street in front of the courthouse; parking, which was usually a breeze, was impossible to find, as were accommodations at any motel within twenty miles. The combination of mass murder, black-market organ sales, torture and a handsome physician who had already been dubbed Dr. Death by the tabloids had lured reporters from all over the United States and several foreign countries to Cedar City. While he waited for Fred Scofield to call his first witness, Frank glanced around the courtroom and spotted Art Prochaska watching the proceedings from a seat near the window at the back. Frank had represented several of Martin Breach s employees, but never Prochaska. Nonetheless, Frank recognized him instantly and wondered what he was doing at the hearing. Judge Brody rapped his gavel, and Scofield called Sean McCarthy to lay out the case against Cardoni. Then the prosecutor put on several forensic experts before calling his final witness. A woman crossed the courtroom and took the witness stand. She was beautifully dressed in a pale gray pantsuit, a green cashmere turtleneck and pearl earrings. The woman s caramel hair fell gently across her shoulders. Her jade-colored eyes flicked toward Cardoni for a second, then she ignored him. Frank had never seen her before, but his client obviously had, because he stiffened and stared angrily. Could you please state your name for the record? the bailiff asked. Dr. Justine Castle, she replied in a firm voice that carried easily to all corners of the courtroom. How are you employed, Dr. Castle? I m a physician, and I m currently in a residency program in general surgery at St. Francis Medical Center in Portland. Where did you attend college and medical school? I received a BS in chemistry at Dartmouth and a master s in biochemistry from Cornell, and I attended medical school at Jefferson in Philadelphia. Did you work between college and medical school? Yes. I spent two years working as a research chemist for a pharmaceutical firm in Denver, Colorado. What is your relationship to the defendant, Vincent Cardoni? He is my husband, Justine answered tersely. Were you living together at the time of his arrest on the present charges? Justine turned toward Cardoni and stared directly at him. No. I moved out after he beat me. There was a stir in the crowd, and Judge Brody called for order as Frank stood. Objection, Your Honor. This is not relevant to the issue before the court, which is whether there is strong proof of my client s guilt of the murders in Milton County. Overruled. Can you tell Judge Brody the circumstances of this beating? Scofield continued. Justine s voice did not waver and she did not flinch when she answered. It occurred during a rape. Vincent wanted me to have sex with him. He was using cocaine and I refused. He pounded me with his fists until I submitted. Afterward he beat me some more for sport. I moved out that night. And when was this? Two months ago. Judge Brody was old-fashioned. He had been married to the same woman for forty years, and his weekly attendance at church was not for show. His expression reflected the way he felt about men who abused women. Frank saw his chances of obtaining bail fading with each word Justine Castle spoke. You mentioned drug use. Is the defendant addicted to drugs? My husband is a cocaine addict. Does this affect his judgment? His behavior has become increasingly erratic during our marriage. Did you recently witness erratic behavior on the part of your husband during an incident involving a nurse at St. Francis Medical Center named Mary Sandowski? Yes, I did. Please tell Judge Brody what you saw. When Justine finished recounting Cardoni s assault on Sandowski, Scofield changed the subject. Dr. Castle, do you have any reason to believe that the defendant would be a flight risk if he is released on bail? Yes, I do. Please explain to the judge why you believe the defendant might flee. I have filed for divorce. My divorce attorney has been trying to locate my husband s assets. Almost immediately after I filed, my husband tried to withdraw large sums of money from our joint accounts and our investment accounts. We were able to anticipate some of these moves, but he still sent a lot of this money to offshore accounts. We also believe that he has accounts in Switzerland. These accounts would provide him with enough money to live in luxury if he was to flee the country. The cords in Cardoni s neck were tight with anger. He leaned his head toward Frank without taking his eyes off Justine. You asked me who would want to set me up, Cardoni whispered. You re looking at her. The bitch has access to my office at the hospital, and she has keys to my house. It would have been easy for Justine to steal the coffee mug, the scalpel and the videocassette. And Justine knew Grant. You re suggesting that Justine was Grant s partner? She s a surgeon, Frank. Harvesting those organs would be a piece of cake. What about murder? Do you think she s capable of that? As capable as she is of lying under oath. I never raped Justine and I don t have any offshore accounts. Her whole testimony is a lie. What happened? Amanda asked as soon as Frank walked through the door to her office. Bail denied, her father answered. He looked exhausted. I wasn t surprised. Cardoni couldn t come up with a single character witness, and Scofield s case is very strong. How did Cardoni take the judge s decision? Not well, Frank answered without elaborating. He had no desire to relive Cardoni s tirade, which was peppered with threats against Justine Castle and every member of every branch of government that was involved in his prosecution. Where do you go from here? I m already working on a motion to suppress, but I don t have much hope that I ll win. Let me take a crack at it, Amanda asked eagerly. Frank hesitated. Amanda took a breath and plunged in. Why did you ask me to come to work for you, Dad? Were you being charitable? Frank was taken aback by the question. You know that s not it. I know I don t need charity. I was law review at one of the top schools in the country, and I just finished clerking for a federal appeals court. I can get any job I want, and I m going to start looking if you don t give me some responsibility. Frank looked angry and started to say something, but Amanda pressed her case. Look, Dad, I might be a neophyte in a trial court, but I m a sixth-degree black belt when it comes to legal research. You tell me where you could get someone better to work on this motion. Frank hesitated. Then he threw his head back and laughed. You re damn lucky you re my daughter. If any other associate talked to me like that, I d kick their ass into the center of Broadway. Amanda grinned but held her tongue. One thing she knew from watching tons of appellate arguments was that you shut up when you d won. Come down to my office for the file, Frank said. An idea occurred to him. Since you re so anxious to get your hands dirty, why don t you keep Herb Cross company when he interviews Justine Castle, Cardoni s wife? She killed us at the bail hearing. Her testimony at a sentencing hearing could send Cardoni to death row. Is Castle a doctor? Yes. Why? And she s very attractive? A knockout. I ve met her.