Trial Junkies

— 29 -

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Matt said. "You want to pass that by me again?"

They were standing in his living room, Matt wearing a threadbare terrycloth robe, fresh from a shower and still toweling his hair. He seemed a little distracted, but Hutch was pretty sure he'd heard every word.

Hutch had called the moment he got off the train, then headed straight over. What he'd seen was something that needed to be shared. Immediately.

"I'm telling you, the guy's a freak. A fucking psycho."

"This is the guy we saw at lunch, right?"

"Right. Crew cut, black glasses. He's a regular. One of the trial junkies."

This was the first time Hutch had been to Matt's apartment and it was obvious by the clutter-endless stacks of books, piles of newspaper, dirty clothes strewn about-that he lived alone, a confirmed bachelor after a nasty divorce. One of their friends had mentioned that Matt was in the midst of an ongoing relationship with a very much married flight attendant from Boston, but there was no evidence that she'd been around lately. If ever.

"All right," Matt said, tossing the towel to the floor, "let's think this through."

"What's to think about?"

"Just calm down a sec. The book this guy was reading-what did it look like?"

"You mean besides all the dead bodies?" Hutch felt another wave of revulsion shudder through him. "I don't know, like a textbook of some kind."

Matt nodded. "Probably an autopsy manual. There's a guy at the Post, keeps one in his desk. Drags it out whenever he wants to get a rise out of someone. Pretty disgusting stuff."

"Disgusting doesn't even come close to describing it," Hutch said.

"But maybe there's an innocent explanation. Maybe this guy's a medical student, studying forensic pathology."

"And maybe he holds tea parties every Saturday and makes regular donations to the Red Cross. That still doesn't explain what I saw. And heard."

"So he gets off on the photos. So what? I've seen some pretty weird stuff in my day, and a freakazoid with a death fetish is probably about a three on a scale of ten."

"You're kidding, right? A three?"

"Have you ever seen that video on the web-Two Girls, One Cup? Now that's some seriously screwed up shit-no pun intended."

"I don't think you get it," Hutch said. "The woman in that photograph might as well have been Jenny. Slit throat, knife wounds and all. And if he's a medical student, what's he doing at the courthouse every day? He's been there since the start of jury selection."

Matt snorted, reminding Hutch of Nadine. "So what are you saying? That this guy's the real killer? That's pretty fucking convenient."

"All I'm saying is that it's worth exploring."

"And how are we supposed to do that?"

Hutch spread his hands. "You're the reporter. Are you telling me you've never done a background check?"

"It usually helps to have a name."

"So we get it somehow."

"How? Walk up and ask him?" Matt snorted again. "Hey, buddy, we think you might be the guy who should really be on trial here. You want to give us your name so we can pass it on to the cops?"

"I'm serious," Hutch said.

"Oh, I know you are. But as much as I'd like to think you're right about this guy, we can't be checking up on everyone in that courtroom who gives us a bad vibe."

"Bad vibe?" Hutch said, shaking his head. "The guy gets off on dead bodies. Dead bodies that look just like Jenny. He's been sitting in on the trial from day one and he's just about the sickest son of a bitch I've ever encountered. And I live in Hollywood. That ain't a bad vibe, Matt. It's a Richter magnitude earthquake."

Matt held up his hands. "Okay, you've made your point. I doubt if it'll come to anything, but it doesn't hurt to check him out. And now that I think about it, there might be a fairly painless way to get his name-assuming we have a little help."

"From who?"

"That old guy you were talking to during the breaks yesterday. One of the other trial junkies."

"Gus?"

"That's the one. Didn't you say he used to be a bailiff there?"

Hutch nodded. "Thirty years. In that very same courtroom."

"So it stands to reason he's pretty friendly with the security staff. The gatekeepers in the lobby."

"He's pretty friendly all around. What do you have in mind?"

"Nothing too devious," Matt said. "But if Gus and his buddies go along, I think it just might work."

It took Hutch a moment to figure out what Matt was getting at, but once he did, he couldn't help but smile.

Nice, he thought.

Very nice.