Steve Martini - Double Tap

“Fortunately, no. It was, however, a forty-five auto, same caliber,” says Harry, “but it wasn’t an HK. It was the old Colt 1911 model.”

“So if we draw a jury composed of gun nuts and armorers, we can make the point. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the military go to the nine millimeter for sidearms some years ago?”

Harry nods. “Yeah, Beretta 92F is the piece they use now. But for some reason Ruiz and his team shot with the old Colt.”

“And yet the gun used to kill Chapman, a forty-five auto, was issued to Ruiz and belonged to the military. See if you can find out why.”

Harry makes a note.

“How about the state’s theory of a love interest: murder by jealousy. Anything in their notes on that?”

Harry shakes his head. “You have to figure they aren’t gonna put that in their notes. Theory of their case. If they have witnesses, you can be sure they’ll be well concealed on their list.”

What Harry means is lost in a forest of other names.

What is in the file is the lurid videotape showing Ruiz and Chapman on the couch in her office at Isotenics. While the production values, color, and lighting leave a little to be desired, the action-punctuated as it is by heavy breathing and some audible moans-leaves nothing to the imagination.

“How would you read it?” Harry is talking about the tape. “You think she was the aggressor?”

“If I had to call it on points, I’d say it was a draw.”

Harry nods. “We’re gonna need a good wind at our back if we’re going to sell the jury on the notion that she seduced him.”

“Anything else?” I ask.

“That’s about it. Some details here and there. We have the original pathology report, but the medical examiner is still working on some details they haven’t released yet.”

“What kind of details?”

“They aren’t saying. They say they’re just about done. They’ll ship it over as soon as they’re finished. As soon as it comes I’ll get it to you.”

Harry starts to package up some of the papers on the table. “One thing is clear,” he says. “The cops and the DA are putting all their eggs in Ruiz’s basket. From everything I’ve seen and read, he’s been their only theory of the case from the get-go. Never even looked at the possibility of a burglary. Ruiz is right about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“He is very convenient,” says Harry. “The man touches every base. Who would have known where the gun was except him? Who else knew the security system was off? He was familiar with the house and the layout. Only thing they might be a little weak on is motive.”

“Give them a few more days and I’m sure they’ll shore that up.”

“You heard him at the jail. He could just be good at covering his emotions, but it sure didn’t sound like he was infatuated with her to me. I suppose the DA can try to make out a case of twisted lust, given the tape,” he says.

“If they show it more than once, the judge is going to have to call a break so the jury can take a cold shower,” I tell him.

“That does not a murder make,” says Harry.

“Let’s hope not.” For the moment I am worried about the tight group to the head, one of the most damaging pieces of evidence, particularly since it came from Ruiz’s gun and given his background in the military as a shooter. “What about the gun?”

“What about it?”

“According to the police report, the firearm was taken from a drawer in a dresser upstairs, off the main floor, a guest room previously used by Ruiz when he was providing security. With all that glass behind glass, with expensive electronics in open view in the living room, why stop to run upstairs and rifle through the drawers of a dresser if your purpose is burglary? Unless of course you already know that what you’re looking for is in that particular drawer.”

“You’re saying that the killer knew where the gun was?”

“I’m saying that the purpose wasn’t burglary or robbery or any other crime involving property. The purpose was murder. And, based on the evidence, that’s what the prosecution is going to say: that gun was the first thing the killer went for.”

“And of course who knew where the gun was kept.”

Harry and I harmonize on this one: “Ruiz.”

“We need to find out who else knew about the firearm. That’s the key. The wider the knowledge, the better off for us. If Ruiz showed it to anyone. If he told anyone where it was. If anyone else in the house knew about it. Put that at the top of your list: things to check out,” I tell him.

He makes a note starting with Ruiz as soon as we can get to him at the jail. They are now in their second day of lock-down. From what we are reading in the paper and hearing at the courthouse, all of this is the result of a stabbing. They are now scouring cells looking for shivs, turning the bedding upside down and tapping the walls, looking for hollowed-out places carved in the concrete, pasted over with watered oatmeal, and colored with acrylic paints used by inmates in art classes: a favored hiding place because it is neutral, not tied to an inmate’s bunk or belongings. Life and death in the lockup.

“Ruiz did tell us he made sure another employee was assigned whenever he slept over at Chapman’s house,” says Harry.

If this is true, it cuts against the theory that he was trying to make time chasing after the victim. It augurs well for the defense that he was trying to keep his distance.

“If we can prove it,” I tell him.

“And maybe,” says Harry, “that other employee knew about the gun, where it was kept.”

“Check it out. Put it on the list.”

“I’m gonna need help if I’m gonna run all this down.” Harry has cases, some dogs barking back in his office. He will have to clear the decks.

“We’ll bring somebody in.”

“Who?”

“Let me work on it,” I tell him.

“One other thing,” he adds. “We need to find out why Ruiz left the gun at her house when the security assignment ended. That’s a pretty expensive firearm to just leave behind when you change jobs.”

“The cops asked him that.”

“I didn’t see it,” says Harry.

“Said he just forgot it was there. According to Ruiz, he never carried it concealed. It was too big. He carried a small, compact Glock, a nine millimeter, when he needed to be armed.”

“So why was it at the house?” Harry wonders aloud.

I shake my head. “Let’s find out.”

Harry makes a note to talk to Ruiz about it just as soon as we can corner him at the jail.

“Anything else?” I ask.

He looks down his list. “Just this Orb thing. I don’t know about you, but I get the sense it was worth a bundle.”

“She had an extensive collection of art glass, according to the reports. I doubt, given her position, her income, that she bought junk.”

“It’s more than that. The cops are playing hide-the-receipt. They won’t say what she paid for it. By now they’ve gotta know. They talked to the owner of the shop where Chapman bought it. They would have seized any bill of sale. Probably found the corresponding copy in her purse or in her car after they found her body.”

Harry is right. It was purchased the afternoon she was murdered.

“So why hide it?” says Harry.

“Motive?”

Harry nods. “That’s what I’m thinking. If somebody saw her buy it, knew what she paid for it. .”

“Let’s find out. Subpoena her bank and credit card statements. All of them. If we have to, get an order for discovery. Force them to cough up the bill of sale. While you’re at it, see if we can get some background on this thing. What was it called?”

“ Orb at the Edge ,” says Harry.