“Can you please tell Mr. Michel to give me a call?”

  “Whadda I look like? An answering service?”

  “I’ll give you my card, may I?” Jack asked, reaching for his vest pocket, and resisting the urge to answer the stranger’s question. The stranger nodded and waved the shotgun. Jack took out the card and handed it to him.

  * * *

  While Jack was on his field trip, Brent was enjoying some well-deserved rest and relaxation, with no clients and no cats. He had gone home after leaving the office to feed the cat, shower and freshen up for his date with Angela. When he arrived to her two-level Spanish style apartment, he practically ran past the fountains and gardens which usually gave him pause because they were so beautiful. It was true that being apart built up anticipation, but it was beginning to be a real killer.

  Brent knocked on the door of Angela’s apartment, and she opened it, wearing hardly anything but a smile.

  “Quick, come in,” she said, as she pulled him inside.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re getting ready, uh, where do you want to go?”

  “Brent are you blind?” said the light-haired green eyed beauty in the slinky blue silk bathrobe that barely covered her small round bottom.

  “Huh?”

  Angela knew that once Brent “got it,” all the time she spent on preparation would be appreciated. Sometimes men are so dense, she thought. She leaned forward for a kiss so Brent could not quite embrace her, but could get a good whiff of her scent.

  “We’re staying here tonight.”

  Brent tried to softly pull her to him for a hug, but she broke away, giggling.

  “I’m making you dinner,” she said, pulling the tie on her robe and letting it fall to the ground, exposing lacy negligee that barely covered her small but perfectly rounded breasts, and left not a lot to the imagination. “And I’m dessert.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jack Ruder was on time, as usual, but not as crisp as he normally appeared, when he walked into Brent’s office.

  “Long night, Jack?” asked Brent.

  “Long and hard.”

  “Sounds like the title of a porno movie.”

  “Very funny,” said Jack, as he sat down in the wooden chair in front of Brent’s desk with a sigh. “Can’t you afford a more comfortable chair?”

  “Dude, those cost me a fortune. Besides, we don’t want clients to get too comfortable. Just long enough to say what’s necessary.”

  “I thought you charged by the hour.”

  “Well, Jack, since you do too, let’s get down to it. What’ve you got so far?”

  “Well, first of all I was almost shot by a Hispanic guy with a shotgun.”

  “Really?” Brent at once felt out of his joking mood.

  “Keith Michel’s house. As I was leaving my interview with Frances Templeton, I noticed the garage side door was ajar at Michel’s house. I needed to talk to him anyway, so I approached. Before I knew it, I was cozying up to a shotgun. Almost pissed my pants.”

  “What do you make of it?”

  “I think it has something to do with drugs. Maybe a meth lab. Tomassi says Michel’s a pot-head. Maybe they’re growing marijuana.”

  “Interesting that a meth lab might be right next door to Templeton and all she can think about is blue curtains.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think it’s the greatest lead for us.”

  “Instincts aside, Jack, we’re dealing with creating reasonable doubt here. If Barbara Densmore got too snoopy and discovered something she shouldn’t have seen, that’s a great motive for the killer to take her out. Let’s pursue it.”

  “Even if it turns into an agency or a DEA case?”

  “Especially if it does. What about the couple with the dead son?”

  “I’m not wild about that lead, either. The wife is pretty likeable.”

  “Some of the most likeable people on the outside are capable of truly heinous things.”

  “I know. I’ll keep following that one. I still haven’t talked to the husband. There’s a lot of people who live in Orange Grove who weren’t sad to see Densmore go. But they don’t like Templeton either.”

  “How did it go with her?”

  “Got nothing out of that one.”

  “But don’t let it go.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “That’s about it. It’s going to take some time Brent. Do you need any of this for the preliminary hearing?”

  “No. This is going to trial no matter what. The prelim is just for going through the motions. We know the judge will hold Nancy to answer. Just let me have your notes from your interviews with Detective Tomassi. It might help with the suppression motion.”

  “Right.”

  * * *

  Nelson sat by the table while Nancy ate her lunch, intently staring at every move she made, with the cutest look he could manage on his face. Nancy picked at her food. She hadn’t had an appetite since getting out of jail. She looked at Nelson and smiled. She could never get over how cute he was.

  “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy hasn’t forgotten about you.”

  Now that Burt was gone, Nelson was the only friend that Nancy had, and who knows for how long. Well, she thought, You could say that about anyone. We are all alone in this world; even in a crowd.

  Nancy picked up her almost full plate and headed to the kitchen, with Nelson jumping at her heels. She selected a small piece of chicken to give him, and he was already twirling in circles and going through his whole repertoire of tricks to earn it.

  “This is going to be easy today, Nelson,” she said as she dropped the piece of chicken. Nelson caught it and continued his floor show. Nancy couldn’t hang around for more. She had an important meeting with Brent Marks.

  * * *

  Brent was just finishing his lunch with Angela at a quaint little café right across from the Santa Barbara courthouse. Santa Barbara was a small town, but it had over 100 restaurants. They sat at a table on the patio, where they could enjoy the view of the beautiful courthouse gardens.

  “Your preliminary hearing is tomorrow, isn’t it?” asked Angela.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “How does it look?”

  “In state court, it’s pretty basic. We know that the judge is going to hold Nancy to answer. The only question is: how will he rule on the motion to suppress.”

  “They don’t get granted too often, do they?”

  “No, and Detective Tomassi is going to say she gave her consent for the search.”

  “Then why make the motion?”

  “I’m not so sure she knew what she was consenting to. Anyway, she’s coming into the office in about 15 minutes, so I have to run.”

  * * *

  When Brent got back to the office, Nancy was already there in the waiting room, fidgeting in her chair.

  “Hi Nancy, I’ll be right with you. Any messages Mimi?” Brent asked his secretary.

  “No, it’s been pretty quiet here.”

  “Thanks. Okay Nancy, come on in.”

  Brent led Nancy to his office and she sat down.

  “Brent I’m so nervous,” she said, as she took off her round horn-rimmed glasses to clean them.

  “Don’t worry Nancy. As I told you before, this is just a preliminary hearing. It’s to determine if the judge thinks they have enough evidence to hold a trial, and I can guarantee you that in almost 100% of all cases, he does. All he has to do is find probable cause to hold you over. There’s nothing we can do to avoid a trial.”

  “That’s not reassuring, Brent, but I trust you,” Nancy said, her hands shaking.

  “And I’m not calling you to testify. There’s no point to tell your story now.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, first, you have a right not to say anything. And second, it won’t help you no matter what you say at this point. Like I said, this is going to trial and if you tell your story, you’ll tell it to the jury because they’re the ones who will be making the decision. The only thing that could keep this from going to trial is a favorable ruling on our motion to suppress.”

  “What are the chances of winning that?”

  “Slim to none, but it may help us later if we have to appeal.”

  “Appeal?” Nancy’s forehead wrinkled, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Let’s do this with baby steps, Nancy. First, let’s get through the motion to suppress and the preliminary hearing.”

  “Okay Brent. Thank you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Judge Brian Clark had been on the Santa Barbara Municipal Court bench before all Municipal Courts had become Superior Courts, but the job had not changed much with the change of title. He was still in charge of the court’s preliminary hearing mill. He was a balding man in his late 40’s, with still some brown hair left, and he had a habit of sucking on cough drops, even when he was on the bench.

  In every felony case, a judge had to conduct a preliminary hearing, to determine if there was enough cause to hold the accused to a trial. It was kind of a one-man show, where the D.A. put on his or her most important witnesses, usually police officers, and the outcome almost always ended in the judge holding the defendant to answer. But it gave the defense a little peek into how those witnesses would act at the trial.

  Before the hearing, the judge held a conference in his chambers and went over all the cases on his calendar with the D.A. and defense counsel.

  “Who’s got the Haskins case?” Clark asked, as he clicked a cough drop around his teeth.

  “I do, Your Honor,” said Bradley Chernow.” Chernow was an aspiring young prosecutor who had his sights on a judicial position, or maybe even politics. He was also an ex-classmate of Brent’s from law school. He was clever, sharp, but still had that “cop look” from the days he had served in uniform, and the same style of dress. Brent had always liked Chernow in law school. He had friendly, amber eyes and a pleasant disposition, but they had never really become friends. Brent could never shake the feeling that Chernow thought that he had made it on his own, and that he regarded Brent as coming from privilege – the easy way.

  “You’re on the defense, right Brent?” asked Judge Clark.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Is there an offer on this case?”

  “Your Honor, we’re not prepared to make an offer. It’s a capital case,” replied Chernow.

  “Brad, she’s an old lady. Plus, we haven’t had an execution in California since 2006. Why don’t you plead her out to second degree, and we’ll send it for a report?”

  “I’ll discuss it with my client, Your Honor, but I’m not sure this one is ready to be plead out.”

  “I agree,” said Chernow. “And I’d also have to get authority.”

  “Well then, you discuss it with your client, and you get authority. Then we’ll reconvene and see whether to go forward on this.”

  Brent had the obligation to relay the proposition to Nancy, but he didn’t relish doing that. She was nervous enough already. Brent took Nancy out into his courtroom “office” – the hallway.

  Nancy, the Judge has asked me to explore a possible settlement with you, and he’s asked the District Attorney to do the same.”

  “Settlement?”

  “Yes. The Judge suggests a plea bargain.”

  “I remember discussing this with you. Brent, I didn’t do it – whatever they say – I’ll just throw myself on the mercy of the Court.”

  “Well, I have to communicate this to you, because, if you’re convicted of first degree murder with special circumstances, throwing yourself on the mercy of the Court could get you the death penalty. And if you’re convicted of first degree murder, the sentence is life in prison.”

  “My God! What is their offer?”

  “It’s not an offer yet, but the judge suggests a plea to second degree murder, which carries a sentence of 15 years before you can be considered for parole.”

  “Brent, in 15 years, I’ll be 88 years old. They may as well give me the death penalty. I say we fight.”

  “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  Brent honestly was relieved by her answer. Defending a murder case was no stroll in the park, but he never took on a case he didn’t think he could win, and he felt good about this one.

  “Okay then, let’s go get ‘em!”

  * * *

  When the Judge called the case, he first took up the matter of Brent’s motion to suppress the evidence taken from Nancy’s trash can, which was, essentially, the only physical evidence they had in the case. If this evidence was suppressed, there was no case and it would be dismissed.

  “Your Honor, you have the motion before you. The defendant in this case had an expectation of privacy in her garbage because it was in her garage and not yet set out for collection. I cited the landmark United States Supreme Court case of California v. Greenwood in my brief,” said Brent.

  “Your Honor, the defendant gave her consent for the search. Therefore, she waived her Fourth Amendment guarantee against unreasonable searches and seizures,” Chernow argued.

  “Your Honor, the Fourth Amendment protects a person’s reasonable expectation of privacy against unreasonable searches and seizures. A warrant is required unless certain exceptions apply, and a police detective who wants to snoop around fishing for evidence without probable cause is not one of those exceptions,” said Brent.

  “Mrs. Haskins did not consent to the search of her garage or her garbage container, and, as I mentioned earlier, according to prevailing Supreme Court case law, she had a reasonable expectation of privacy with respect to that garbage can and everything inside of it, unless and until it was placed outside for collection.”

  “Mr. Chernow?” asked Judge Clark, rolling his cough drop from one cheek to the other.

  “Your Honor, the detective asked if he could search the premises, and the defendant consented. She made no objection when he indicated he was going into the garage, so the only reasonable inference we can draw from that is that she consented to a search of the entire premises. Consent is a recognized exception to the Fourth Amendment guarantee.”

  “Mr. Marks?”

  “Your Honor, under the law, a person’s consent has to be the product of his or her own free will and not the mere submission to an assertion of authority. Detective Tomassi had no probable cause whatsoever to believe that evidence of a crime would be found by a search of Mrs. Haskins’ home. When he asked if he could ‘look around,’ Mrs. Haskins asked if she needed a lawyer, and the Detective responded that he didn’t think so.

  “The scope of the consent to search was never defined, and no consent form was signed. The Detective merely asked if he could ‘look around.’ Under these circumstances, there cannot be deemed consent to search the garage. ‘Looking around’ denotes looking around the area of the home where Mrs. Haskins and the Detective were situated, not the garage and certainly not the trash can.”

  “Mr. Chernow?”

  “Your Honor, as you can see from the detective’s declaration, he asked if he could look around the defendant’s home and the defendant agreed. There was no coercion involved.”

  “I agree with Mr. Chernow,” said the Judge. “The motion to suppress is denied. Are the parties ready for preliminary hearing?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “The Court will be in recess for 15 minutes and then take up the matter for preliminary hearing.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “The Court calls the case of People vs. Nancy Haskins,” said the judge, in between clicks and smacks.

  “Brent Marks appearing with defendant, who is present in Court, Your Honor.”

  “Bradley Chernow for the people, Your Honor.”

  “Thank you Gentlemen. Mr. Chernow, are you ready to proceed?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Thank you. Do you have an opening statement?”

  “No, Your Honor, I will waive opening statement.”

  “Please call your first witness.”

  “Your Honor, I call Dr. Ignacio Perez.”

  Dr. Perez was sworn in by the clerk, and took a seat in the witness stand. Being a medical examiner for the county, this was routine for him.

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “My name is Dr. Ignacio Perez.”

  “Dr. Perez, what is your current occupation?”

  “I am a medical examiner for the county of Santa Barbara.”

  “Can you please summarize for the Court, your education and experience?”

  “I am a certified medical examiner, currently serving with the County of Santa Barbara. I hold an M.D. and a PhD from Georgetown University School of Medicine, an A.B. from Dartmouth, and a medical license from the State of California, where I am board certified in clinical, anatomic and forensic pathology. I am a Diplomate of the American Board of Forensic Medicine, and. . .”

  “Your Honor, the defense accepts the qualifications of this witness for the purposes of this preliminary hearing, subject to cross examination on his actual findings.”

  “Very well. Mr. Chernow, you may inquire.”

  “Dr. Perez, did you perform an autopsy on Barbara Densmore, the victim in this case?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And, as a result of that autopsy, did you prepare an autopsy report and a certificate of death?”

  “Showing you what has been marked for identification as Exhibits 1 and 2, can you identify Exhibit 1 as a true copy of your report and Exhibit 2 as a true copy of the death certificate?”

  “Yes, they are.”

 

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