By reason of insanity

52

Quinn decided to conduct his interviews of potential investigators in a corner of the Westin lobby bar, munching on peanuts and drinking iced tea. The first two candidates were unimpressive.

When Quinn saw the third and final candidate meandering toward him, he knew he would have to ask Melanie to go back to the drawing board. Billy Long was a thick bowling ball of a man, about five-ten, with rounded shoulders, a stubble of dark, receding hair, a five-o'clock shadow, and seriously hairy arms and chest. He was dressed in khakis and a Hawaiian shirt.

"Billy Long," he said, squeezing Quinn's hand in a bearlike grip. "I understand you need a private investigator."

"I'm interviewing a number of folks," Quinn said, as Billy took his seat. "I just have a few questions."

Unfortunately, Billy called for a waitress. "I'll take a Bud," he said.

"I'm good," Quinn said. "I need to be leaving soon."

Quinn fired off a list of perfunctory questions and was somewhat impressed with Billy's responses. He struck Quinn as being one of those "dumb like a fox" guys who puts you at ease and then steals you blind. Billy told some fascinating war stories about his prior life as a detective. His wife's job had caused the couple to move around Virginia a little-Hampton, Williamsburg, Richmond-before they got a divorce and Billy moved to Virginia Beach to start work as a private investigator. He had been in Virginia Beach for six years now and seemed to know all the major personalities. Still, Quinn had pretty much decided not to hire the guy; he needed someone more professional.

And then Billy pulled out his ace.

He swallowed the last of his beer and slid a manila folder across the table to Quinn. "This one'll be on the house," he said. "It's gonna be a long day for you boys tomorrow."

Quinn assessed Billy with a sideways look. Billy stood and Quinn did likewise, taking Billy's card before he shook the PI's hand. After Billy left, Quinn opened the manila folder.

It was a summons for Virginia Beach General District Court, Criminal Division, on charges of assault and battery. The named defendant was Catherine O'Rourke, and from the description, the charges were obviously the result of Catherine's attack on her cellmate, a woman named Holly Stephenson.

What surprised Quinn about the document was the date: June 3. Tomorrow. Somehow Billy had gotten his hands on a summons from the commonwealth's attorney's office that wasn't even scheduled to be filed until the next day.

This charge would compound the difficulty of Catherine's defense. If nothing else, it would give the media one more nail as they constructed Catherine's coffin, even before she went to trial. Plus, if Gates could get this assault case to trial first and obtain a conviction, he might be able to use it on cross-examination if Catherine took the stand in her murder trial.

Included with the summons were several oversize photographs showing Holly Stephenson's bloody scalp as she lay unconscious on the floor of her cell. There were photos of the rinse basin, photos of the bloody concrete floor, and close-ups of Holly's stitches. They would undoubtedly be plastered all over the television tomorrow.

At least now Quinn knew it was coming. He called the number on Billy Long's card.

"We didn't talk rates yet," Billy said when he answered.

Quinn smiled to himself. Long was exactly the kind of man he needed.