Cruel Justice

24

WHEN BEN ENTERED HIS office, Jones was huddling with Loving, the office investigator.

“Haven’t seen much of you lately, Loving,” Ben said. “What have you been doing?”

Loving shrugged his immense shoulders. “Nothin’ special, Skipper. Stalkin’ a wayward wife.”

“I see. You’re probably supposed to take some pictures the husband can use in divorce court.”

Loving shook his head. “Nah. I’m supposed to make the boyfriend wish he’d never been born.”

He would be good at that. Loving was a huge, barrel-chested two-hundred-and-fifty-pounder. His idea of going easy on a suspect was to leave all his body parts intact.

“Did Christina give you the details on the Leeman Hayes case?”

“I think I got the general picture. Whaddaya need me to do?”

“Well, for starters, see if you can find any potential witnesses. Anyone who knows anything about the murder. I’d start with the members of the country club and the staff. Ten years ago.”

Loving frowned. “That ain’t exactly gonna be easy.”

“I know. But I need a witness in the worst way. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Loving half smiled. “Only for you, Skipper. Only for you.”

A few years before, Ben had won a nasty divorce case—Loving v. Loving. Afterward, the disgruntled and estranged husband showed up at Ben’s office with a gun. Ben managed to survive, and Loving was so grateful to Ben for not pressing charges that he insisted on helping Ben with his caseload. In a matter of months Loving had become a full-fledged, licensed private investigator. He did all Ben’s litigation investigations and handled some clients of his own when he had time.

“I’ll do my best, Skipper. But I know the police have been looking for the same info, and they totally flushed out.”

“I may have a helpful piece of data the police didn’t.” He told Loving and Jones about his meeting with Captain Pearson, and Pearson’s oil-and-gas operations in Peru. “Gas prices aren’t that high, but Pearson appears to be rolling in dough. Mike told me there’s a lot of illegal narcotics coming this way from Peru. I just wonder if there might be a connection.”

“Someone should fly to Peru and check it out,” Jones said. “As it happens, I’m available.”

“No doubt. Unfortunately, that’s not in the Kincaid office budget. I was hoping you could do some database research. Like without leaving your chair.”

“Right,” Jones said. “Booting up now.” He turned on his desktop computer and keyed up the modem. “But you know, Peru isn’t going to have as many computerized records as the United States does. Plus, access will be much harder. I haven’t read Spanish since high school.”

“Do the best you can,” Ben said. “And come up with something I can use.”

Christina came through the front office door with a large file folder under her arm. She was wearing a billowing purple sequined skirt with gold frill. It made Ben wonder if the national square-dancing convention was in town.

“Here I am,” she announced. “This had better be good. Your mom wanted to take me to Utica Square.”

“Did you stop by to see her this morning?”

“Oh, yes. She has your little pigpen completely under control. Joey was happily downing his formula and she was doing a little housecleaning.”

“Housecleaning?” Ben groaned. “Like what?”

“Well, when I arrived, she was tossing out some maggot-infested food. Under the sink she found a bag of potatoes that the entire Tulsa pest population has been munching on for months. Later she was planning to alphabetize your record albums.”

“Aaargh! Why can’t she leave things alone?”

“Because she’s your mother, Ben.” Christina giggled. “I mean Benjamin. I’m afraid she thinks your apartment is pretty shabby.”

“She thinks every place on earth should look like a Nichols Hills mansion.”

“Ben, I’ve been poor all my life, but I still think your apartment is pretty shabby. Let the woman do what she can.”

Ben decided to change the subject. “Let’s get on with the team meeting. You should probably go to the courthouse and—”

“I’m way ahead of you.” Christina thunked the large file down on Jones’s desk.

Ben lifted an eyebrow. “Good news or bad?”

“A little of both. Which do you want first?”

“The good news. Definitely the good.”

“Myrna Adams is the assistant DA who’s going to try the case. You remember Myrna.”

“Sure. Tall, attractive. Great legs.”

Christina drummed her fingers. “Legal skills, Ben. Focus on the legal skills.”

“Right. She’s pretty good. A straight shooter. She won’t try to pull any sleazy prosecutorial tricks.”

“Women never do. It’s you testosterone types who try to turn the courtroom into a macho meter.”

“Facts, Christina, not feminism.”

“Right. I talked to Myrna for a few minutes. She was getting ready for the pretrial conference today at ten. She’s not crazy about this case and she knows you’re in a tough spot. I think we’ll be able to work something out. Like a plea bargain. Maybe even for time served, if the judge okays it.”

“Well, it’s worth pursuing. It always helps when the prosecutor is rational. What’s the bad news?”

“Judge Hawkins.”

“Not again!” Ben threw his head down against the desk. “I’ve already had three cases before him this year. And I lost every single one.”

“Well, here’s your chance to go for oh-and-four.”

“Are you certain about this?”

“Positive. And there’s no chance of a transfer.”

“What’s wrong with Hawkins?” Loving asked. “Does he hate your guts as much as that federal judge?”

“It isn’t anything to do with me,” Ben explained. “It’s all him. Hang ’em High Hawkins. He’s the closest thing to a hanging judge we have in Tulsa County. As far as he’s concerned, anyone the police arrest is guilty until proven innocent. And he always gives the maximum sentence. He doesn’t have any sympathy for anyone.”

“Well, maybe if you talk to him …”

“Forget it. Hawkins is the most inattentive, indifferent, indolent judge on the bench. As far as he’s concerned, trials are just rigmarole he’s forced to endure before he can toss the defendants in the hoosegow. He never takes charge of his cases. Lets the prosecutors get away with anything.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

Ben pointed at the file folder on the desk. “What’s in there?”

“My pièce de résistance. Trial exhibits. Everything the prosecution is planning to use. Mike got them for you.”

“Great. That’ll cut through the red tape. Have you got time to review them?”

“I live to serve.” Christina pulled a chair up to the desk. “I may check in on your mother at lunchtime, though. Just to make sure she’s doing all right with Joey.”

“She’ll be fine,” Ben said. “She’s done kids before. I don’t want you to impugn your professional reputation.”

“I don’t mind.” Christina opened the folder and began poring over the documents. “To tell the truth, I kind of miss the little squirt.”

“There seems to be some magic memory-erasure effect that makes people remember how cute babies are and forget everything else about them.”

“Just as well. If it were the other way ’round, the species would have gone extinct aeons ago.”