Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

"All right, let's make this official. This is Detective Jason Meyer of the Chicago Police Department, along with Deputy Gerard Thomas of the Sedona Sheriff's Department, interviewing witness Ethan Hutchinson. Are you here of your own free will, Mr. Hutchinson?"

"More or less," Hutch said.

"You've waived representation, and your answers to these questions are not coerced in any way, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," Meyer said. "Can you tell us what you know about Daniel Tillman of Sedona, Arizona?"

"He was the ex-husband of a friend of mine and the father of her child."

"Is that friend Veronica Baldacci?"

"Yes," Hutch said.

"And are you aware that Mr. Tillman was found dead in his home last night under questionable circumstances?"

"It's my understanding that he shot himself."

"And how did you come by that understanding?"

"It was on the news last night."

"And when did you first become aware of Mr. Tillman's death?"

"On the news last night."

"You're sure about that?"

Hutch frowned. "Yes, I'm sure."

Meyer and Thomas exchanged another glance.

"Mr. Hutchinson," Meyer said, "is it true that you're helping finance the defense in the matter of State vs. Veronica Baldacci?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business, either."

"All right. What about the nature of your relationship with the defendant?"

"What about it?"

"How would you characterize it?"

"Like I told you," Hutch said, "we're friends."

"But isn't it true that she moved out of her previous residence and is living with you at an apartment here in Chicago?"

So much for keeping that bit of news under wraps.

"Along with her mother and son, yes. But only for the duration of the trial."

"Sounds like more than friends to me," Meyer said, then glanced at Thomas. "What do you think, Deputy?"

Thomas spoke in a soft baritone. "I'm the fish out of water, here, but I tend to agree."

Meyer grinned at Hutch. "Not that I blame you-she's a nice little piece of furniture. But I gotta ask you this. How can you live with the woman who's about to be-"

"Don't call her that again," Hutch said, feeling his chest tighten.

"Call her what?"

"A piece of furniture."

Meyer assessed him for several seconds, then said, "I can see this is making you uncomfortable, Mr. Hutchinson, so let's change course a little. How many years have you worked in Hollywood?"

"Why is that relevant?"

"Humor us."

Hutch choked out a laugh. "Okay," he said. "Close to ten years. Do you want a list of my credits, too?"

"I don't imagine it's all that long, but I'm sure I can get it on IMDB, should I ever care. What I'm interested to know is this: in the course of your work over the years, have you come in contact with a lot of experts?"

"Experts?"

"You know," Meyer said, "like stunt men, fight choreographers, weapons handlers, security consultants, guys like that."

"Sure," Hutch told him. "I do a lot of action stuff."

"They're pretty tough guys, huh?"

"Some of the toughest."

"But everyone knows," Meyer said, "how difficult it is to make a living in the movie business. You think any of these tough guys you've met do work on the side?"

Hutch was no dummy. He saw exactly where this was headed.

"I'm sure they do," he said. "But not the kind of work you're suggesting."

"And what kind of work is that?"

Hutch sighed. "Come on, Detective, if you want accuse me of something, just come out and say it."

Meyer grinned again, leaning toward Hutch. "Nobody's accusing anyone of anything, Ethan. We're just asking questions. But if you're trying to tell us something, we'll be all too happy to listen."

"Are we done yet? Because this is getting ridiculous."

Meyer leaned back again. "You're right, you're right-the stunt man thing is probably a stretch. But what about drug dealers? You've got a pretty well-documented history of narcotics abuse. I'll bet you've met some shady characters in your time."

Hutch bristled. "I'm ten months sober and you're way out of line."

"Am I? We're cops, Ethan, and part of our job is to look at the world from several different angles. And when somebody gets dead, we have to consider the circumstances surrounding that death. Was it violent? Did he have enemies? Is the trajectory of the bullet in his skull off just enough to suggest it may not have been suicide?"

"Are you saying Ronnie's ex was murdered?"

"Maybe, maybe not. You tell me."

Hutch stared at him. "This interview is over."

Meyer stared right back for a moment, then smiled again and reached to the table for the recorder. He flicked it off. "You want to know what I think, Ethan? I think you're up to your neck in poisonous pussy and you don't even realize it."

Hutch felt the tension in his chest deepen.

"I think that girl has sucked your little wee-wee so dry it's got you all messed up in the head. So messed up that you were willing to make a phone call to one of your douche-bag friends out there in Lala Land and promise him a nice bundle of that movie star money you've got languishing in the bank. All he had to do was hop a plane to Sedona and handle a job for you."

"Go to hell," Hutch said.

"Oh, I'm not the one going hell, my friend. You and your little fuck bitch already have that particular piece of real estate reserved, with a nice view of the fiery pit. And I will send you there. That's a promise."

It took every bit of Hutch's self-control not to put a fist in Meyer's face. But he wouldn't allow himself to be baited. Not by this idiot.

Instead he smiled and said in a tight, even voice, "You have a nice day now."

Then he stood up and walked out the door.

"What the hell happened?" Andy said. "I dropped you off almost an hour ago."

He, Matt and Gus were waiting for Hutch in the hallway outside the courtroom. The doors were still closed and the crowd wasn't happy about it. There seemed to be more people here than ever, no doubt drawn by the recent turn of events in Arizona.

Hutch kept his head down as he approached his friends, hoping none of the reporters in the crowd would pay any attention to him. Up until now he'd felt fairly safe in the courthouse, but that would change if anyone leaked that he'd been questioned by the police. And he wouldn't put it past Meyer to do just that.

Ronnie, Waverly and Abernathy were now in Judge O'Donnell's chambers, trying to decide how Danny Tillman's death-and the publicity surrounding it-might affect the proceedings. Waverly would likely ask for a mistrial, claiming that the jury would be swayed by the news coverage, but Hutch doubted her request would be granted. The judge would remind her that the jury had been instructed several times to stay away from the news, and that would be that. The trial would continue.

"Well?" Andy said.

"I'll fill you in on all the gory details at lunch," Hutch told him, then looked around. "No Tom and Monica today?"

Matt shook his head. "Tom's gotta do some prep work for the upcoming semester and Monica's website crashed. She's been up all night with her tech crew trying to get it back online."

Andy smirked. "Can't have all those ladies sitting around bare-assed with nothing to do."

"What about Langer?" Hutch asked. "You seen him this morning?"

"No sign of him," Andy said. "I'd check the men's room, but if he's in there, I don't want to interrupt his morning session."

Gus glanced at his watch. "Not like that boy to be late. He's usually the first one in line."

Hutch wondered now if Langer had recognized him in that alleyway. It would explain the absence. He said to Gus, "Did Matt and Andy clue you in on what happened last night?"