There Was a Little Girl

7: She was horrid

Patricia was wearing her other hat.

Assistant State Attorney, Twelfth Judicial District, in and for Calusa County, Florida. This time, Jeannie Byrd had elected to have an attorney present. Perhaps that was because she was being charged with a string of felonies, including but not limited to the murder of Peter Torrance and the attempted murder of Matthew Hope.

Her attorney’s name was Benny Weiss.

He was a smallish person — five feet eight at the outside — slight of build, with a narrow face, the soulful brown eyes of a cocker spaniel, and unruly brown hair that he raked with his fingers every three or four minutes. Conventional courthouse wisdom maintained that he was an even better lawyer now that he’d stopped smoking. Patricia had never come up against him before. But here he was now. Benny Weiss. Unquestionably the very best criminal lawyer in the state of Florida. Never mind Howard Mandel, never mind Matthew Hope, this was Benny Weiss. But this was Patricia Demming, too, and she wasn’t here to play golf.

“I’ve advised my client not to answer any questions,” Benny said at once.

“Fine with me,” she said. “But meanwhile...”

“No meanwhiles, Pat,” Benny said.

First mistake.

At Brown University, Patricia Demming had broken the nose of a quarterback who’d insisted on calling her Pat instead of her full and honorable name.

“It’s Patricia,” she told Benny now, her eyes as cool and as baleful as a shark’s. Not for nothing had she been called the Wicked Bitch of the West when she was practicing private law in Los Angeles. Benny should have known this, but he hadn’t bothered to do a quick background check. Instead, obliviously unaware, he stood by his seated client, confident he’d be out of here in five minutes, further confident that Jeannie Byrd would be released the moment he asked a judge to set bail.

“I understand Mrs. Byrd doesn’t wish to answer any questions,” Patricia said, “but I was hoping she wouldn’t mind listening to a few things I have to say.”

“Like what?” Benny asked.

“Like why I think I can fry her,” Patricia said sweetly.

Benny smiled.

“Why should we be interested in that?” he asked.

“Well, at the very least,” Patricia said, and shrugged, “it might help you prepare your case.”

“Thanks for the offer, Pat, but I respectfully...”

“That’s twice,” she said levelly.

“What?”

“It’s Patricia.”

“Patricia, Pat, whatever you say.”

“I say Patricia. Never Pat. Always Patricia.”

“Fine. Patricia. Fine. Meanwhile...”

“No meanwhiles, Counselor. Always.”

“Always, fine.”

“Care to listen?”

“I don’t see what purpose it’ll serve. If you’re intending to frighten my client...”

“Perish the thought.”

“Then what possible purpose...”

“I’d like to hear it,” Jeannie said.

“Thank you,” Patricia said. “Mrs. Byrd...”

“You can listen,” Benny advised, “but don’t say a word.”

Jeannie nodded.

“Maria Torrance made a statement not half an hour ago that implicates you in...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, hold it,” Benny said, “where’s this statement, what statement, what is this?”

“I have it right here,” Patricia said. “I was going to summarize it for you, save a little time...”

“I can read, thanks. And I have all the time in the world. Let me see it, please.”

“Sure,” Patricia said, and handed him a Xerox copy of Maria Torrance’s signed statement.

“How’d you get this?” he asked.

“Detective Bloom gave it to me,” Patricia said.

“How’d he get it?”

“He mentioned obtaining a warrant to search her home, and — depending on what he found there — a second warrant to search her place of business. One thing led to another...”

“Such as?”

“I thought you could read, Counselor.”

Benny shot her an angry glare.

“Such as she knew there was a sizable amount of cocaine in her house... try six ounces... and she further knew the dope was in a manila envelope with her business address on it. A little sidebar with her lawyer advised her that this constituted reasonable cause to believe the dope had been transported from her place of business to her home. Her lawyer explained that this gave Bloom all he needed for a warrant to search Hair and Now as well. That’s the name of her business. Hair and Now. It ships wigs — and dope — all over the country. Apparently a whole lot of dope passes through that little old wig emporium, Counselor. Much more than the hundred and fifty keys specified in 893.135. They ship it inside these hollow polymer heads they put the wigs on. Bloom’s got his dogs over there right this minute, sniffing around.”

“My client has nothing whatever to do with Maria’s business.”

“Well, maybe not. In any event, a kilo of cocaine, as you know, is two-point-two...”

“I know what a kilo is, thank you.”

“...pounds,” Patricia went on. “A hundred and fifty keys come to three hundred and thirty pounds of the stuff. The section states that any person who knowingly sells, purchases, manufactures, delivers, brings into the state...”

“I’m familiar with the section, thank you.”

“...or is knowingly in possession of a hundred and fifty keys or more,” Patricia continued, unperturbed, “commits the first-degree felony of trafficking in cocaine. Which is punishable...”

“I’m well aware,” Benny said.

“Perhaps Mrs. Byrd isn’t,” Patricia said pleasantly, and went on, unruffled. “Punishable by a term of lifetime imprisonment without the possibility of parole. Maria has admitted that she and her partners were dealing cocaine in the amounts specified in the statutes.” Patricia paused and then said, “By the way, Mrs. Byrd, she named you and your husband as her partners.”

Benny had been scanning Maria’s statement. He now looked up sharply.

“What I was able to offer her,” Patricia said, “in return for testimony stating that you and your husband have been in business with her for the past four years, from when she was still traveling with the circus, actually, distributing coke at every whistle-stop in...”

“That’s her word against...”

“Well, not entirely, Counselor. Maria has records of so-called wig orders, and bills of lading, and cash bank deposits, and phone calls to people with full heads of hair. Speaking of phone calls, by the way, she also says she called you from Missouri the day before her mother was murdered, which I find a rather odd coincidence...”

“Willa committed suicide,” Jeannie said.

“Yes, so I hear. But I think I can try that case...”

“In Missouri?” Benny said. “Don’t be ridic—”

“No, in Florida, under Florida law. No statute of limitation on murder, right, Counselor? And that phone call gives me jurisdiction, doesn’t it? The call to Mrs. Byrd here in Florida, followed almost immediately by Willa’s suspicious death in Missouri? That would constitute conspiracy, wouldn’t you say? If I can show motive related to the threat of exposure? That’s my reasoning, anyway. But as I was saying...”

Benny was studying her closely now.

“...Maria called you in panic again last Thursday, after her father threatened to do an encore of his whistle-blowing routine...”

“Is that in this statement?”

“Yes. And we’ve also made application for a corroborating telephone company log. Once again, Mrs. Byrd, you came to the rescue. First you tried to take out Matthew Hope, who was getting too close for comfort, and next...”

“I’m sure that isn’t in here,” Benny said, and rattled the statement.

“That’s right, Counselor, it isn’t. It’s all in my head.”

“That’s what I thought,” Benny said, and handed the statement back to her. “I see nothing here to worry about,” he told Jeannie. “So, if it’s all right with you, Counselor...”

“I told Maria Torrance that if she pleaded to possession of four hundred grams, we’d go for the mandatory minimum, and we wouldn’t oppose parole after she’d done the fifteen. A matter of her getting out of jail when she’s thirty-eight instead of spending the rest of her life there. As a condition of the plea, we agreed to drop all conspiracy charges on the murders and the attempted murder. Her attorney recognized the sense in...”

“Who’s her attorney?” Benny asked.

“Howie Mandel.”

“Shmuck would cop a plea on his own mother.”

“How about you?” Patricia asked.

“You’re blowing air, Patricia.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening. Her partner’s already flipped, she’s already been burned on a drug charge with a lifetime penalty.”

“Until I put Maria on the stand and start questioning her about the little deal you cut.”

“Sure, you do that. Be the first time in history anyone copped a plea, right? But you know, Counselor, I feel I should point out to Mrs. Byrd that if a person trafficking in a hundred and fifty kilos or more of...”

“Please, spare me.”

“...cocaine also happens to cause the intentional killing of an individual...”

“Mrs. Byrd hasn’t killed...”

“...then it becomes a capital felony. We’re talking the chair, Counselor.”

“You’re still blowing air.”

“I’ve got two panic calls from Maria, followed by two murders.”

“Talk about flimsy.”

“You may call it flimsy. I call it motive.”

“Weak, Patricia, very weak. If that’s all you’ve got, I would welcome a trial.”

“I also have a witness who can identify the car the shooter was driving the night Matthew Hope got shot. We know you drive a red Mercedes, Mrs. Byrd, but Bloom’s people are out checking rental car companies right this minute. Maybe they’ll learn you rented a black two-door Mazda on the day of the shooting, hm?”

“No answers, Jeannie,” Benny warned.

“Because, you see, we’re getting all kinds of cooperation from the phone company, even before we applied for our court orders. For example, we have a log that has you making a call from your home on Palm Drive to Matthew Hope’s home...”

“No answers,” Benny warned again.

“...at five o’clock last Friday. Why’d you call him, Mrs. Byrd? To set up a meeting at the Centaur Bar & Grill? So you could shoot him?”

“No, I called to...”

“Jeannie!”

“...to tell him when Andrew would be coming home.”

“Oh? And why’d you do that?”

“Because when we’d talked earlier in the week, he wanted to know when my husband would be home.”

“I see. So you called to tell him...”

“That Andrew would be home tonight.”

“I see. You felt it necessary to call Mr. Hope a week in advance to give him this information, is that right?”

“He seemed interested,” Jeannie said, and shrugged.

“Well, I’m sure Detective Bloom will be interested, too. He may want to meet your husband at the airport, in fact, welcome him back to Calusa.”

“Are we chatting here, or what?” Benny asked.

“You asked me what I have,” Patricia said. “I’m telling you what I have.”

“Which isn’t very much.”

“Unless we include the gun,” Patricia said, and smiled nicely. “We have the gun, too.”

“What gun?” Benny asked. “The statement didn’t say anything about...”

“The twenty-two-caliber Iver Johnson Trailsman Snub revolver your client dropped alongside the bed in Peter Torrance’s room,” Patricia said, and smiled again. Somehow the smile enhanced her momentary sharklike appearance.

Benny looked at Jeannie.

“Nice try, Mrs. Byrd,” Patricia said.

“I think we’ve heard enough here,” Benny said.

“Wipe the weapon clean, drop it on the floor, then plant a box of cartridges in Torrance’s valise, hoping we’ll figure the gun...”

“I gather this is in your head as well,” Benny said.

“I’m afraid it is.”

“In which case, I’ll see you in...”

“But the bill of sale isn’t,” Patricia said.

“What bill of...?”

“On the gun.”

Benny looked at his client again.

“The gun was purchased at F&G Arms on the South Tamiami Trail on October fifteenth last year,” Patricia said. “Birth date of great men,” she added, but did not amplify. “We located the merchant through the serial number. The gun was sold to a man named Andrew Byrd, who gave his address as 1220 Palm Drive, in Timucuan Acres. I believe that’s where you live, isn’t it, Mrs. Byrd? Andrew’s your husband, isn’t he?”

“Andrew was in Mexico when...”

“Yes, but you weren’t. I think you’ll agree, Ben, that her...”

“It’s Benny.”

“Sorry. I think you’ll agree that her husband’s ownership of the murder weapon establishes her link to it, especially since he was out of town at the time of both shootings — probably buying dope, if I might hazard another guess.”

“Never mind the guesses,” Benny said. “Stick to what you’ve got, okay?” He was scowling now. Patricia figured that was good.

“I’ve got a link to the gun,” she said, “and I’ve got motive...”

“Motive, motive, what motive?”

“The threat of exposure. Under 893.135...”

“Stop reading me the statutes.”

“You asked,” Patricia said. “I’ve also got a common, virtually identical scheme on the two murders, the one here and the one in Missouri. I think you know that evidence of similar crimes is very powerful stuff, Counselor. Admittedly prejudicial, but nonetheless powerful. The beauty part is I can use evidence of one murder as evidence in the other. Even if I’m willing to forget the attempted murder...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Benny said, holding up his hand like a traffic cop. “Who says we’re dealing here?”

“Excuse me, I thought we were dealing here,” Patricia said.

“Even if her husband does own the gun you described, that doesn’t mean...”

“Well, I think it does.”

“It could have been lost...”

“Oh, sure.”

“Or stolen.”

“Sure. But I think it was used by your client to shoot two people, incidentally killing one of them.”

“You don’t have any evidence to support that,” Benny said. “But let me hear your deal, anyway. Just for the fun of it.”

“I don’t want any deals!” Jeannie said, and whirled on Patricia. “You have nothing but Maria’s word on any of this. Why’d she tell you any of this? Is she crazy?”

“No, just angry.”

“About what, for Christ’s sake?”

“Well, gee, maybe she didn’t expect you to kill her mother.”

“I was in Florida when Willa...”

“Or have her killed. Either way, it was murder.”

“I had nothing to do with Willa’s death.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about, right?”

“Can she really drag Missouri into this?”

“Yes, she can,” Benny said.

“Then fuck her. Let her.”

“Oh, I will,” Patricia said.

“Go ahead, do it. You’ve got nothing. And you know it.”

“Well, I’ll admit I’m not too bowled over by the evidence, either. Then again, I’m not the one who’d be gambling my life on it. If you’d like to hear the plea, I’d be happy to...”

“No, I told you, I don’t want to hear any goddamn plea.”

“Okay, fine. Roll the dice.”

“Maybe you ought to hear it,” Benny said.

Jeannie looked at him.

“I’d hear it, if I were you,” Benny said.

Patricia waited.

“Let me hear it,” Jeannie said.

“The way I see it,” Patricia said, “if I forget the Missouri murder and the attempt on Matthew Hope’s life...”

“Forget the Torrance murder, too,” Benny said.

“No way.”

“Give her the same deal you gave Maria.”

“No. I’m offering life for the Torrance murder.”

“Just give us the basic black and pearls,” Benny said. “We’ll admit to four hundred grams if you forget the thirty-year max. We’ll take the mandatory fifteen, no opposition to parole...”

“No. She’s looking at the chair, Benny. That can be in twelve years or it can be in three years, depending on how your appeals go. But what’s certain is, she’s going to die young. I’m offering life in prison, take it or leave it.”

“Make it twenty without parole.”

“Thanks, I’ll go for the death penalty.”

“Okay, we’ll do the Torrance murder if you’ll agree not to oppose parole after twenty-five years.”

“Life, Benny.”

“Patricia, twenty-five is the minimum on a capital felony!”

“Why does she deserve the minimum?”

“Make it forty, then. We’ll take the Torrance plea if you don’t oppose parole after forty years.”

“No, Benny.”

“She’d be sixty, sixty-five years old by then!”

“I’d rather be dead,” Jeannie said.

“She’s going to tough it out,” Patricia told Bloom.

They were in his unmarked police sedan, on their way to the hospital. This was now nine thirty-seven that night, almost a week to the minute since Matthew had been shot.

“I was hoping she’d deal,” Patricia told him. “What we’ve got isn’t very strong.”

“Unless we can zero in on the car.”

“How does it look?”

“Still working it.”

“I’ll settle for parole in forty, if I have to,” Patricia said. “But not if we have her renting that Mazda.”

“We’ll see.”

“What’d the dogs find?”

“Oh, they were busy, busy, busy. A shipment went out yesterday, while Warren was there visiting. But new stuff has already come in. She was wise to cut a deal, young Maria.”

“Who’s waiting for Byrd at the airport?”

“Kenyon and Di Luca.”

“Won’t he be surprised.”

“Maybe not. There are phones in Mexico, you know. His wife may have got to him before he boarded his plane.”

“I hope not. He might just be the one to nail her coffin shut.”

“Aluvai. One thing I’ve learned in this business, you offer anybody a good deal, he’ll burn his partner in a minute. And there’s nobody in the world who’ll choose ten seconds in the electric chair over life in a prison cell.”

“Tell that to Jeannie.”

Dr. Spinaldo was tired and hungry and he wanted to go home, but the five of them had him surrounded in the corridor outside the intensive care unit. The daughter was the most aggressive of the lot, wanting to know when her father would wake up, what they were doing to help him wake up. The woman from the State Attorney’s Office came next in the pecking order, firing questions as if he were being examined on a witness stand. What is the prognosis, Doctor? What is the significance of his occasional speech? Is this a sign that his condition is improving?

Well, yes, certainly, if the man wasn’t previously saying anything at all, and he is now muttering an infrequent word or two, then one could say with guarded certainty that his condition does seem to be improving moderately, yes, one might conceivably say that.

They want me to be God, Spinaldo thought.

They want me to say he will live or die, he will recover completely or he will remain as he is until...

“Can’t we do something to help him?” the daughter asked.

Pray for him, Spinaldo thought.

There were tears in the girl’s eyes, she was looking up plaintively into his face. The five of them waiting, all of them waiting. The big police detective, and the blond state attorney, and the other two, the black man and the other blonde, all of them waiting for the word of God, all of them wanting him to promise that Matthew Hope would definitely come back.

“We’re watching him closely,” he said, “monitoring his progress, doing everything we can to keep his condition from deteriorating. But you see...”

What can I tell them? he wondered. What can I possibly say?

“I just don’t know,” he said.