The Bitterest Pill

Thirty-five

Jesse didn’t usually make it a point to attend arraignments, but he made sure to be at the one for Joe Walters. He had particularly strong views about men who abused women. It had gotten him into occasional trouble in L.A., trouble he was glad to bear. During his very first case in Paradise, he’d had to confront a musclehead who beat on his wife. He’d dealt with that guy much the same way he’d dealt with Joe Walters, with a swift kick and a warning. Sometimes the warnings stuck. Sometimes not, but abusers had to know there would be a price to be paid.

Jesse knew something was wrong the minute he stepped inside the courtroom and saw Kathy Walters seated in the front row behind the defense table. That wasn’t a good sign. He knew that those first twenty-four hours after the cops interceded were crucial. That it gave the wife a chance to walk away, to get to a shelter or to a relative’s house. Unfortunately, things often went the other way. The abused party, full of fear and regret, tried to make it up to the abuser. But he was sure it had gone ass-end-up when they led Joe Walters into the courtroom and he stared back at Jesse, a chilling sneer on his face. He mouthed the words Fuck you.

Seeing Joe Walters looking into the gallery, Dan Malmon, the new town DA, turned and saw Jesse. He shook his head. That was never an encouraging sign. And if Jesse needed any further proof of how things were going off the rails, the reading of the charges against Walters took care of that. Driving While Intoxicated was the only charge against him.

After the charge was read and before the judge could ask for Walters’s plea, Malmon stepped forward.

“Your Honor, if it please the court?”

“Proceed, Mr. District Attorney.”

“Thank you. Mr. Walters has agreed to plead guilty to the one count of Driving While Intoxicated. In exchange for this plea, the people have agreed to the following. Mr. Walters will pay a fine of two thousand dollars, will do fifty hours of community service, and agrees to undergo ten sessions with a town-appointed alcohol counselor.”

The judge didn’t seem any more pleased with the bargain than Jesse was.

“Mr. District Attorney,” said the judge, “I note that the defendant has a prior criminal record and that this deal does not include a suspension of his driver’s license.”

“That is correct, Your Honor. Mr. Walters’s past criminal behavior occurred over a decade ago and his business requires him to drive. My office has made Mr. Walters well aware of the consequences if he should in any way deviate from the letter or spirit of the agreement.”

“Very well.” The judge turned to Joe Walters. “Mr. Walters, do you understand the terms of this sentence and will you abide by them?”

“He will, Your Honor,” said Walters’s public defender, Ruth Jordan.

That didn’t please the judge. “I’m asking Mr. Walters directly.”

Walters said, “Yes, sir. I do and I will.”

“You are free to go.” The judge banged his gavel and that was that.

Jesse walked up to the DA, failing to hide his anger.

“What the hell was that about? What happened to the gun charge and assaulting an officer?”

“Let’s take this to my office, Chief,” Malmon said, nodding to the door.

Inside Malmon’s office, he offered Jesse coffee.

“I don’t want coffee. I want an explanation. We caught an ex-con with an unlicensed nine-millimeter in his bedroom. He assaulted me and it’s pretty clear he’s an abusive spouse. Now you explain to me how he’s not spending five seconds in jail even though his blood alcohol level was one-point-six.”

“Because the wife claimed the gun was hers, Jesse, and—”

“She claimed I was the one who precipitated the assault with her husband.”

The DA was perplexed. “How could you know that? Are you a mind reader?”

“Old story. Kathy Walters got scared and his lawyer got to her. The trade-off is that Walters won’t sue Paradise or me if you dropped the assault charges and let the wife walk away from the gun charge.”

DA Malmon shook his head. “That’s exactly how it went. His lawyer knew I wasn’t going to let the wife do time for his having the gun illegally. At least I got them to surrender the weapon without a fight.” Malmon handed Jesse a piece of paper. “That’s a legally binding document that turns possession of the weapon over to the PPD. The gun is yours.”

“This isn’t going to end well,” Jesse said.

“Sorry, Chief Stone, but without her testimony and with her claiming ownership of the weapon, this was the best I could do.”

“I understand, but it still stinks.”

“No argument from me.”

They shook hands, neither of them smiling.

Jesse left the DA’s office and began walking back to his SUV. Before he got twenty feet, his cell buzzed in his pocket. It was from the PPD.

“What’s up, Molly?”

“I’ve been calling the numbers we got from the paper and business cards Peter collected in Chris Grimm’s room.”

“Anything?”

“Most go unanswered and to a generic voicemail message, but I got one hit.”

“You did?”

“A Mr. Arakel Sarkassian. His cell number was on a business card for an Oriental rug business in Boston. The business number was disconnected, but he picked up when I called his cell. What would Chris Grimm have to do with an Oriental rug business?”

Jesse wasn’t as surprised as Molly. “The kid had all sorts of stolen goods in his room. Maybe one of his customers stole a rug to barter for drugs. I’m no expert, but I know those rugs can be worth a lot of money.”

“I don’t know, Jesse. That makes sense, but Mr. Sarkassian was awfully nervous about the call.”

“Cops make people nervous. Worries me when they don’t. I’ll call him back when I get in to the station.”

“Something else.”

“What?”

“There was a pawn receipt and chit from a shop in Boston as well.”

“Boston? I think I need to take a trip to Boston. See you in a few minutes.”

“How’d the Walters arraignment go?”

“It didn’t.” Jesse hung up before Molly could ask him to explain.