Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

"Bingo," Matt told him, and they all looked at one another in slack-jawed surprise, Hutch now knowing that he was right to trust his gut.

"I've seen this before," Gus said in disgust, after a long sip of his Double Diamond. "This kinda nonsense grinds my beans. Guy pays a few dollars to get a birth certificate, then uses it to generate new forms of ID, like a social security number, credit cards, driver's license. Anyone checks him out, he's completely legit."

"As long as they don't look too hard," Andy said.

"Problem is, nobody does."

Monica was perplexed. "But why the fake address? What's the point in that?"

"An extra layer of protection," Gus told her. "If anyone comes calling-like a debt collector, or the boys with badges-they trace him straight to a vacant lot."

They all thought about that, then Tom turned to Matt. "So what's the third red flag?"

Matt flipped to the next sheet of paper, a photocopy of a credit statement. "Gus is right about the credit cards. Our guy has racked up quite a few purchases over the last few months." He gestured to the page. "These are from his second month here."

Tom frowned, looking at the photocopy. "This is confidential information. How did you get it?"

" Ve haf our vays …" Matt said, with a German accent.

"Meaning bribery was involved."

"Or sexual favors," Andy said. "In the right light, with the right amount of booze in you, our boy Matty here is nearly impossible to resist."

Gus's eyebrows went up. "You speaking from experience?"

They laughed again, then Monica said to Matt. "What happened to all your big talk about reporters and ethics?"

"It's an ideal, not a rule. Anyway, if you look at the purchases on this sheet, you'll find one of the biggest red flags of all."

Hutch reached to the table and grabbed the photocopy, carefully reading the list.

Bockwinkel's

Food 4 Less

Food 4 Less

Bockwinkel's

Food 4 Less

(He was sensing a pattern here…)

Target

Rite-Aid

Food 4 Less

Food 4 Less

Bockwinkel's

Hutch stopped cold when he saw the next item on the list. Felt something wet and slimy slither up his spine, laying eggs along the way. And all at once he knew that his suspicions about Langer were no longer just a hunch, but inching ever closer to a cold, dead certainty.

The others must have seen this reflected in his expression, because more than of one them said, "What is it? What does it say?" The loudest and most urgent voice came from Ronnie, who had been largely silent until now.

What he saw on the page would seem innocuous to anyone not watching the trial or privy to the discovery files. To them, it might even be comical. But to those in the know-to Hutch and to most of the people in this room-it was nothing short of a bombshell.

"It looks like a tuition payment," he told them. "Our boy spent some time getting an education. Which in itself isn't that big of a deal. It's the school in question that raises the flag."

Andy frowned. "Jesus, Hutch, spit it out already."

Hutch tore his gaze from the photocopy and looked at them. "It's a two thousand dollar payment to the Wyndham Academy of Pet Grooming."

"Pet grooming?" Gus said with a frown.

Hutch nodded. "Unless this is some kind of donation, Langer went to pet grooming school."

Gus turned to Ronnie. "I don't follow. Is that where you work?"

Ronnie shook her head, but Hutch could see that she was only half listening. She had something else on her mind. "I work at The Canine Cuttery. Or I used to, until my fat bastard of a boss fired me."

"Canine Cuttery, that's right. I remember the testimony. But I guess I don't see the significance, other than this boy Langer looking to take up the same line of work. Probably just a coincidence."

"It's more than that," Matt said. "You remember all that talk about the hairs the cops found in Jenny's car? The ones that supposedly place Ronnie at the crime scene?"

Gus shrugged. "I learned a long time ago not to pay too much attention to pre-trial leaks, but, yeah, I remember something about that."

"Well, if you read the forensics report, it turns out those hairs didn't come from Ronnie. They came from a dog."

Gus looked bewildered. "So that's why Abernathy and Meyer made such a fuss about where she worked?"

Matt nodded.

"Hell," Gus said, "that's about as thin as my cousin Gerda's ass. Anyone who sat in that car coulda had dog hairs on him." He looked at Ronnie again. "Your attorney'll blow a hole right through that pile of horseshit."

"One can hope," she said absently.

Hutch waved the photocopy. "But maybe it isn't horseshit after all. We've got a mental case with a death fetish who apparently practices the same profession. And I'm guessing he's the one who left the hairs."

They all exchanged glances again as the weight of this settled. Then Ronnie surfaced from whatever distant pool she'd been swimming in and said, "Maybe, maybe not, but there could be even more to it than that."

"What do you mean?" Hutch said.

She gestured to the photocopy. "When did he pay that tuition?"

Hutch checked the sheet. "About seven months ago."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Why?"

"Because that's the same school I went to, before getting the job at the Cuttery. A four week all-inclusive course. Seven months ago. Do you have a picture of this guy?"

It was only then that Hutch remembered that, unlike the rest of them, Ronnie hadn't yet seen Langer, except possibly among the sea of faces in the courtroom gallery. She had no real idea who they were talking about beyond Hutch's attempt at a description, which had been greeted with a wide, blank stare.

Matt grabbed the folder, leafed through the papers, then found what he was looking for and handed it across to her. "Here's a printout of his state ID."

She took it and lowered her gaze to page. Something shifted in her eyes. "Christ…"

"You know him?" Hutch asked.

She moved her head, but it was barely a nod. "He was in my class."

Monica brought a hand up to her chest. "Oh my God…"

"There were about twenty of us, and he always sat in a back corner. We never said a word to each other. Half the time I forgot he was there." She paused. "In fact, I didn't even remember him until I saw him a few weeks later, standing across from the Cuttery. I thought he might be there to apply for a job, but I don't think he ever did."

"Jesus Christ," Andy said. "Bastard was stalking you. Still is."

Ronnie shook her head. "We don't know that for sure."

"You've never noticed him in the courtroom?" Hutch asked.

"No," she said. "You feel all those eyes on you, you tend to not want to look back."

"Well, he's there every day and has been since jury selection started, and he's not one of the regulars like Gus."

"No, ma'am," Gus said.

"So if that's not a stalker, I don't know what is."

No one spoke for a long moment, and Ronnie got to her feet, moving to the row of windows across the living room. Below, beyond the park-which could barely be seen in the darkness-headlights streaked along Lakeshore Drive, the moon playing across the surface of Lake Michigan.

"Okay," she said, "let's say you're right. That still doesn't make him a killer."

Groans around the room.

Could she be serious?

"You're forgetting the dog hairs," Andy said. "Dog hairs we know didn't come from you. If the guy was studying to be a pet groomer, it stands to reason-"

Ronnie cut him off. "Like Gus said, those hairs could've come from anybody. I mean, think about it, you're jumping to the same conclusion the police did about me. And if I weren't on trial for my goddamn life, I'd be laughing about it. The whole thing is ridiculous."