Joel Goldman - The last witness

"Yeah. So what?"

"You've got to be a hard-core local jazz fan to know Pete Kirby's trio. That's all. Did she tell you anything else?"

Harry grinned. "That's all she told us the first time we talked to her. Kirby and his guys gave us a blow-by-blow on the fight she and Cullan had at the club and how Bluestone broke it up. My favorite part was when Bluestone threatened Cullan."

Harry hadn't said anything about the scratches on Blues's hands. Mason didn't know whether Beth Harrell or the musicians hadn't noticed the scratches, or whether Harry was holding out on Mason, waiting for him to raise the subject.

"So you went back to Beth Harrell and jogged her memory?"

"Early morning is a good time to question people. She didn't have her makeup on yet, and the bruise Cullan had given her was just turning yellow. She said she didn't tell us about the fight because it was too embarrassing, but she did say that Bluestone scared her more than Cullan."

"Why was that?"

"Because Cullan was old and mean but she could handle him. When Bluestone threatened Cullan, she didn't think anyone could handle him."

"None of that places Blues at the scene."

"We're working on that. Try this for starters."

He tossed Mason the coroner's report, Mason's stomach sinking when he found the information he knew would be there. Blood and tissue had been found under Cullan's fingernails. According to Blues's police department personnel file, the blood type found under Cullan's fingernails matched Blues's blood type.

"DNA match will take a while, but we both know it's his blood," Harry said.

"C'mon, Harry. You talked to four witnesses who saw Blues grab Cullan from behind to stop him from beating up Beth Harrell. Cullan scratched the backs of Blues's hands. He's still got the marks. You've got to do better than that."

Harry didn't hesitate. "None of the witnesses saw Cullan scratch your client's hands. They only saw him squeeze Cullan until his eyes started to bug out."

"That doesn't change a thing. They just didn't see the scratches. I'll bet none of them told you that they looked at Blues's hands afterward and didn't see any scratches. Because you didn't ask them that question. Did you? Your case sucks without something that puts Blues in Cullan's house Friday night. Tell me what you've got, Harry."

Harry listened as Mason turned up the volume, his blank expression giving no clue whether Mason's antagonism bothered him, whether he had the evidence Mason was demanding, or whether he'd even heard a word Mason had said. Harry waited until the silence pressed down as heavily as unspoken bad news.

"I've got enough that the prosecuting attorney was happy to sign the arrest warrant. He says he might ask for the death penalty. Your client's first court appearance is tomorrow morning at nine in associate circuit court."

"This isn't a death-penalty case. It's barely a murder-one case. Even if your take on Blues is right-and it's not-you've got him killing Cullan because Cullan pissed him off. That's murder two on a good day. Where are the aggravating circumstances that would make it a death-penalty case?"

"You'll have to get that from the prosecutor in discovery. His orders, not mine."

Mason knew better than to press. Harry never deviated from the chain of command.

"So who drew the short straw in the prosecutor's office?"

Leonard Campbell, the prosecuting attorney, limited his court appearances to accepting high-profile plea bargains and trying cases with dead-certain guilty verdicts. He was more of a politician and bureaucrat than he was a trial lawyer. Mason assumed that he would assign one of his senior deputies to Blues's case.

"Campbell says he's going to try the case. Nobody here believes that. He may sit at the counsel table so the TV cameras can get a good shot of him, but Patrick Ortiz will be lead."

Mason had been up against Ortiz enough times to appreciate his plodding, understated style, which could lull a defense attorney into careless mistakes. Juries responded to him, seeing him as one of them. He was a regular guy who just talked to the jury, making the complex simple, explaining why the alibi was just a lie. He had the highest conviction rate of anyone in the prosecutor's office and was always the lead prosecutor in death-penalty cases.

"I've got some other things to go over with Blues. Let me know when I can get a set of the investigative reports, or are you going to make me wait for discovery?"

"I told Campbell you'd want that. You can get them tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I'd like to get a swab from your client's mouth so we can run the DNA test."

"Let's see how things go in the morning, Harry."

"You can agree or we can get a warrant. Either way, it doesn't matter to me. We won't have any trouble finding your client. Just tell him that when the judge imposes a sentence, he'll ask us if Bluestone cooperated or made life difficult."

Mason was tired of Harry's pinpricks. "I know you've had a hard-on for Blues since the two of you were partners. Don't use this case to get even. Blues's life is on the line, and you're too good of a cop to make it personal."

Harry fired back. "Is that what you think? That this is personal? Well, let me tell you something, Lou. It's damn personal! Your client killed an unarmed, innocent woman and walked away. He killed Jack Cullan last Friday, and if he thinks he's walking away this time, he's wrong. Murder is about as personal as it gets, and I take it real personal that I didn't nail the son of a bitch the first time."

Harry's rant attracted the stares of the other detectives jammed onto the floor. Mason looked around the room. They all knew about Blues and Harry. Though cops never liked it when one of their own was busted, Blues was no longer a brother behind the shield.

"You won't nail him this time either, Harry. I won't let you."

"You don't look like a lawyer who just convinced the cops to let his client go home," Blues said when Mason returned to the interrogation room.

"The case Harry told me he has against you doesn't worry me. It's the one he wouldn't tell me about that should worry both of us."

Mason had always been impressed at Blues's ability to occupy a room. Though tall and muscular, he wasn't always the biggest man, but when he was backed up, he grew a foot higher and wider with the menace he promised.

"You got something to say, Lou-just say it."

Mason let out a long breath. "Okay. Blood and tissue were found under Cullan's fingernails. They checked the blood type against the blood type in your police department personnel file and got a match. They want a swab for DNA testing."

"So what. He scratched me. Who else's blood could it be?"

"None of the witnesses in the bar saw Cullan scratch your hands, but they will testify that you threatened Cullan."

"So I'll testify."

"You know what they call a defendant who testifies? Convict. I told Harry that his case still sucked unless he could put you at the scene."

Blues stared at Mason, hands on his hips. "You told him his case sucked? That's strong. I'll bet he gave up right then."

"Almost. I asked him what else he had, and he said it was enough for the prosecuting attorney to consider asking for the death penalty. He said you got away with murder once before and that he's not going to let you get away with it again."

Blues turned away. Mason expected the news to knock him back. Instead, Blues gathered himself, straining as if he would break out of the interrogation room by sheer will.

"What do you think?"

"I think a lot of clients hold back information from their lawyers. They want to look their best, their most innocent, especially when they're not. Shit, half of them probably undressed in the dark on their wedding nights so they wouldn't disappoint their spouse." Mason paused. "I think Harry's case sucks unless he can place you at the scene. I need to know if he can."