Court of Killers, page 6
“For the mayor?”
“And that’s another problem. I got a text from your Chief of Staff, Benji. Given your current...inability to perform your duties, the Deputy Mayor has announced that he will serve as Interim Mayor.”
“That man has wanted my job since before my term began. This is his golden opportunity.”
“Yes, frankly, it is. Some are already calling for you to resign.”
“That will never happen.”
“I think it’s premature, in any case. But no one will argue that a mayor behind bars can perform her usual duties.”
“Then get me out!”
“I will try. But bail in capital murder cases is rare.”
“Where could I go? Everyone knows who I am.”
“Which I will argue. But I can’t promise results. So much depends upon the judge we draw. I know some who would not even consider bail under these circumstances.”
He could tell this was not the answer she wanted. “I am a strong woman. Always have been. But I will not last long in here. I’m a target.”
He didn’t doubt it. “Jimmy knows a lot of people. I’ll ask him to see if there’s anything we can do to increase security.”
“This has been engineered to dispose of me, one way or the other. Finally, my enemies have me where they want me. I know how this will end.” She drew in her breath. “If the publicity doesn’t kill me, a shiv in the showers will.”
“Camila, is there anything...you need to tell me?”
“Like what? Whether I killed those men in the oven? I did not. I barely knew Nick, and I have no idea who the others are. I am one hundred percent not guilty.”
“Anything else I should know? Believe me, the prosecution will leave no stone unturned. Better that I know everything up front than get blindsided with it later.”
She paused a long time, as if running a thousand possibilities through her mind. “I have a record.”
His heart sank. “Criminal record?”
“Arrest record. Juvenile. When I was young. Sixteen.”
“What happened?”
She shrugged. “Got in a fight with...another girl. Embarrassingly enough, we were fighting over a boy. He was playing us both and not worth the trouble. But I was young and stupid. We struggled. She fell backwards and broke her arm.”
“Did she blame you?”
“Not really. But...her mother did. The police came and arrested me. I spent a night in jail. They let me go the next day. They didn’t press charges.”
“How has this not come out before? During the campaign.”
“Because I was a juvenile, my record was expunged.”
“This happened a long time ago. It shouldn’t matter.” But he knew it would, if the prosecutor found out. It was evidence of a strong temper. Perhaps an irrational, uncontrolled rage. And whoever committed this ghastly crime had serious anger issues. Or was completely psychotic. Either way, this incident did not help. “I’ll bring a motion when we get closer to trial. See if I can keep it out.”
“Do you think you will succeed?”
“Again, depends on the judge. No one likes to exclude evidence. But if judges let in something prejudicial, they risk getting reversed on appeal. I’ll give it my best shot.”
“Thank you, Daniel. I...” Their eyes met. “I trust you. And...” She swallowed. “And I know you will fight these people who are determined to bring me down.”
“I will.”
“I do not wish to spend the rest of my life in prison. Or be executed. But what is more important is the future of the country. We cannot allow secret forces to control everything and everyone from behind closed doors. The selfish might of the rich and powerful is killing this country, preventing the changes we so desperately need. I will fight this to the bitter end.”
She looked out and pressed her hand against the Plexiglas. “And I will be stronger for having you at my side.”
Chapter 10
“Tell us what happened. Start at the beginning,” Dan said to Camila. “Give us everything you know about this Nick Mansfield.”
“He worked in my office briefly. He was an accountant and a former banker. Handled financial matters, mostly.”
“Like campaign contributions?”
“Of course.”
“But you let him go?”
“Yes. He had been brought on as a temp to handle a specific job. When it was finished, I terminated his employment.”
“Couldn’t you find something else for him to do?”
“He had a drug problem. Heroin. He showed up at the office completely strung out. Benji reported it to me.”
“I get the impression she runs a tight ship.”
“She is invaluable. She makes it possible for me to do my job while she manages the minutia.”
“I wouldn’t mind having a Benji myself.” He looked up abruptly. “Was that inappropriate?”
Maria scowled. “Ish.”
“You know what I mean.”
“True.”
He cleared his throat and pressed ahead. “You fired Mansfield. Did he take it well?”
“No. He argued and asked for another chance. Said he recognized that he made a mistake and he would do better in the future. I told him he needed help and found him a rehab. He was there three weeks.”
“I sense...there’s more to this....”
She sighed heavily. “We...dated. Briefly. Sort of.”
“You dated an employee?”
“No. After he was terminated. After the rehab. And we only went out once. Dinner.”
“And after that?”
“He became...obsessive. Wanted to see me again. I declined.”
“Good.”
“But he wouldn’t let it go. Started sending me...photos by text. Photos of his...endowments.”
He blinked. “This clown sent the city mayor...”
Maria cut in. “Nick-pics?”
Camila smiled. “Exactly.”
“We could pull those off your phone,” he said, thinking aloud. “Although in some people’s minds, that might give you a motive for murder.”
“It certainly gave me a motive to never see him again. Didn’t even respond to his texts. Totally ghosted him.”
“Did he know anything that could be used against you?”
“No such thing exists.”
“He must have thought there was something serious brewing between the two of you.”
“I gave him no reason to believe that.”
He and Maria exchanged glances. “We need a better story.”
“I am not telling stories!”
Maria took the receiver. “Camila, let me explain what Dan means. He’s not talking about lying. But presenting a case at trial is all about storytelling. Some people have gone so far as to say the jury votes for the side that tells the best story. Jurors have a hard time following all the testimony and evidence, and they typically aren’t that great at determining which witnesses are lying and which aren’t. They end up believing the story that makes the most sense to them. Likeable protagonists, convincing motivations, plausible actions.”
“You make it sound as if I should hire a novelist instead of an attorney.”
“We do have one advantage—we get to hear the prosecution’s story first. Then we present ours. They have to give us all their evidence up front, whether it helps them or us. We don’t have to give them anything.”
“You can plan a story that explains away their story.”
“Exactly. Trust me, Dan is already searching for a story he can sell.”
“And so far,” he added, “I haven’t heard one. Why would you go out with this loser? Given what you knew about him?”
Her face reddened. “He was a handsome man. Single. I stay very busy but...I have perhaps not paid sufficient attention to my personal life.” Her eyes turned downward. “Sometimes even a mayor gets lonely.”
“But you didn’t want a second date. Even before he started sending porn. Why?”
“Many reasons. I thought he needed more time clean and sober. Plus he was on the rebound from a previous relationship, and I think he was not yet over it. Talked about his ex all through dinner.”
“Who was the ex?”
“He never said. I did not ask.”
“Did you have drinks before dinner?”
“I do not drink.”
“And it was just dinner?”
“Just dinner. Chez Guitano.”
“Best place in town. Expensive. Exclusive.”
“I could get us in.”
“No doubt. Who paid for dinner?”
“I did. He was having financial problems. Kept talking about needing to ‘scrape together some Georgies.’ Was that a mistake? Should I have made him pay?”
He drew in his breath. “I’m not even sure. It would’ve been better if you’d gone Dutch. Did you pay by credit card?”
“Of course.”
“Then the prosecution likely already has a copy of the receipt.”
“I cannot believe this. A man has been murdered and we’re talking about a dinner date.”
He pulled a few documents out of his backpack. “At this time, we know next-to-nothing about the murder itself. Jimmy got the filings, but they don’t reveal much. Except that someone apparently went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make death painful. Not only for Nick but for three other men.”
“Who were they?”
“No one knows. There have been no matching missing-persons reports. And they are all seriously burned. The coroner’s office is running tests, prints, DNA, dental records, to identify the bodies, but so far they have nothing. They’ve warned us that a positive ID may take a while. That’s why you’ve only been charged with one murder. So far.”
“You believe there will be more charges?”
He spread wide his hands. “Whoever killed Nick also killed the other three. Someone dragged all the corpses to the oven. And someone turned the heat up, gradually. So they would suffer.”
Camila winced. “That is...unbelievable.”
“It indicates more than a mere desire to kill.”
“Revenge?”
“Retribution. Punishment. Serious hate-on. Or maybe just a cruel streak. Sadism.”
“Such people do exist,” Camila said, her eyes distant.
“It’s possible this is the work of a twisted serial killer. But the cops don’t think so. They think it was you.”
“Because I fired Nick?”
“And because you own the bakery. Through a shell corporation.”
“I bought it to set an example. I have encouraged the business people in this town to acquire old storefronts. To invest in the city. Create attractions for residents and tourists.”
“The police think the killer had a key.”
“Many people know how to pick a lock.”
He shuffled through the rest of his notes. So far, he had not heard a single fact he considered encouraging. This was the most hideous murder he’d ever heard about. And all the evidence seemed stacked against their client. “The police also believe he was trying to identify you by writing your name in blood. I haven’t seen it, though I will. And they admit that the job was never finished. They say he scratched out the letter ‘C.’”
“That could mean a thousand different things.”
“They also say there are eyewitnesses who can put you in the general area at the time the oven was turned on.”
“I was downtown that day. I frequently am. That means nothing.”
“Your prints are on the premises. In the kitchen.”
“I own the building!”
He closed his backpack and folded his hands. “I admire your fighting spirit, Camila, but the prosecution has a serious case. Believe me, they wouldn’t have arrested a public official if they didn’t think they could make it stick. I want you to give me a list of everyone who might have any relevant information.”
She spent the next ten minutes thinking hard, compiling a list of names. Maria took them down on her phone and forwarded the list to Garrett and Jimmy.
“As we speak, I’ll bet the police are getting warrants to search your home and office. What will they find?”
“Nothing incriminating.”
“You’re certain?”
“There is nothing to find.”
“Think harder.”
Her jaw tightened. “There is nothing to find.”
“They’ll mirror the hard drives on your computers. Laptops, tablets, phones. Is that a problem?”
“What do you think they will find? Child pornography?”
“I don’t know what they will find. And I don’t want to learn for the first time from the prosecuting attorney. I will do everything in my power to fight these charges. But they are not going away. Unless you cop a plea—”
“I would never.”
Exactly as he thought. “Then this is going to trial. And this will likely be the hardest, meanest, ugliest fight any of us has ever seen. And by the way—no press conferences.”
“The prosecution will speak to the press.”
“But we will not.”
“That will make some people assume I am guilty.”
“Some people already assume you’re guilty and they probably always will. Sorry, I can’t help that. But a press release won’t change anything. The less said, the better. And don’t talk in jail. Don’t talk at all. Here’s the truth—you don’t know who your friends are. Anyone can be subpoenaed or bribed, and any testimony can be twisted around by a skilled questioner. Do your friends a favor. Don’t turn them into potential witnesses.”
“Anything else?”
He allowed a small smile. “You’ve been fighting like a tiger for years. Now it’s time to let us be the tigers. And we will be. We will leave no stone unturned, take every risk. We care about you. I can’t guarantee a good result. But I can guarantee I will never stop trying.”
Maybe he imagined it, but he thought her mood improved slightly. “I thank you for that.”
He shook his head. “Thank me when you address the Democratic Convention.”
Chapter 11
Next morning, Dan was at the office at six sharp. He did a little surfing, though not with the kite. That would take too long and he had a busy day ahead. Still, a little time in the gulf cleared his head and helped him face the day to come. Everyone had their routine, right? Some people liked coffee. He liked sea spray. This time, however, he made a point of changing before he came to the office.
He entered, scanning the newspaper. Maria was staring at her phone. That part wasn’t surprising. The expression on her face was.
“I know,” he said, cutting her off. “Camila’s mugshots are all over the internet.”
“There’s more. Photos of her being printed and searched.”
“Tell me it wasn’t a strip search.”
“So far, she’s fully clothed. But they aren’t pretty. They make her look like a criminal.”
Which was exactly the point. “Where did they come from?”
“I don’t know. Garrett’s working on it. Someone inside must’ve had a phone and discreetly took a few photos. Sold them to an online news service. If that’s the correct term.”
A digital version of the National Enquirer. Hadn’t Camila predicted this? She said she was a target—and less than twenty-four hours later, the world proved her right.
She also said jail would be the perfect place to eliminate her.
He had to get her out of there.
Jimmy wandered in. “Brace yourself. More bad news incoming.”
Maria lowered her phone. “Seriously? Ugh. I haven’t even been to Starbucks yet. I need a caramel brulée latte, Dan.”
“Skinny. No cream. Almond milk. Venti.”
Maria blinked. “How—?”
“I’ve been to Starbucks with you before.”
She smiled. “And you remember what I like?”
He nodded. “Coffee that tastes nothing like coffee.”
Jimmy looked up from his laptop. “Camila’s case has been assigned to Judge Hayes.”
A communal keening filled the room. Hayes was a notorious hardliner, the modern-day equivalent of a hanging judge. A defense attorney’s worst nightmare. “Isn’t there anything you can do about that? Pull some strings maybe?”
“Unless you’re suggesting I hire a hit man, no, we’re stuck with Hayes. Camila’s making her initial appearance before the judge later this morning.”
That much he knew. He’d received an alert on his phone. “Anything else?”
“Yeah, but this is on the QT. You know Hank is an ER doc down at the hospital, right?”
“And?”
“He got a look at one of the corpses. Nick Mansfield. Apparently, the cop on the scene thought there was a remote chance he might still be alive. Skin was so hot and charred taking a pulse was difficult. Anyway, anyone want to guess the actual cause of death?”
This was a grisly version of Twenty Questions. “Heat stroke?”
Jimmy shook his head.
Maria entered the game. “Asphyxiation?”
“Strike two.”
Garrett came down the stairs from his private office. “Suicide.”
“I’ll bet Mansfield wished he could kill himself. But how? No, according to Hank, the guy’s internal organs boiled. Got so hot they failed to function. Total shutdown. So basically, his entire body stopped working. Then erupted.”
Maria pressed a hand against her forehead. “I so do not need this first thing in the morning.”
“And as you can imagine, you don’t live long after your entire body stops working. But Hank thought he saw signs that the guy was taking drugs. And guess what? On the inventory sheet of items found at the crime scene?” He waved a piece of paper in the air. “The police found a glass vial.”
Maria frowned. “Containing what?”
“Very good question. Someone needs to get out to the scene of the crime and take a look before it’s been completely dismantled. You hearing this, Dan?”
He was. And making mental notes. Ghoulish as it seemed, anything that could assign culpability to the victim helped their case. Of course, Mansfield probably didn’t tie himself up or turn on the oven. But it was a start. He turned to Garrett. “You have anything for me?”
