William Bernhardt - Hate Crime

“Bit hard on him, weren’t you?” Swift asked. “Since he was basically right. You’re out of your jurisdiction.”

“Details, details…” He grabbed Baxter’s arm and pulled her over. “Let’s test your deductive reasoning powers, Sergeant. What did this poor schmuck do for a living?”

She stared at the contents of the bag. “Dog collar. Ruler. Little bracelets.”

“And spermicide,” Mike added. “They all add up to?…”

She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s all right. It’s not a sign of inferior detective skills. More like a sign that you’re a wholesome person. Now, Special Agent Swift here probably got it a long time ago. Am I right?”

Swift grinned. “My mama didn’t raise her girls in a convent.”

Baxter looked annoyed. “So spill already. What does it all add up to?”

Swift batted her eyelashes. “Sex, sugah.”

“Sex? I mean, I get the spermicide, but-” She stopped short. “Ohhh. I am so embarrassed.”

“I would say kinky sex,” Swift added, “but that’s so judgmental.”

Mike smirked. “You may recall that Shelly-the bartender at Remote Control-told us about a chicken? A male prostitute, for the unenlightened. Charlie, I think she called him. She said he was at the bar the night Tony Barovick was killed. Left not long after Tony did.”

“Just like Manny Nowosky.”

Mike nodded. “These people are all linked-and not just by the fact that they’re now dead. They’re being systematically picked off because they are all connected to… something. And the most likely candidate?”

Swift agreed. “The Ecstacy ring.”

“Wait a minute,” Baxter said, trying to catch up. “If the victims were all involved in a drug ring, that would mean that Tony Barovick-”

“Was not exactly the saint the popular press has made him out to be.”

Baxter’s eyes widened. “If you’re right, a lot of protesters currently camped out in front of the courthouse are going to have to repaint their placards.”

“Yeah. And find a new martyr.” Mike grabbed his trench coat. “Come on, gang. Let’s check out this loser’s apartment.”

“Right behind you, tiger.”

“Oh, and Baxter?”

She stopped at the door. “Yeah?”

Mike smiled. “Those weren’t little bracelets.”

She covered her face with her hand. “Oh, geeeez…”

As Christina hurried down the long courtroom corridor, she listened intently to the words coming over her cell phone.

“I really do think there may be a connection, Chris. Between Tony Barovick, and the drill bit through the head guy, and this new victim. I know the evidence is slim, but my instincts tell me there’s something there.”

“Like what?”

“I have no idea. But I intend to find out. So let’s stay in touch with each other, okay? And exchange information. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Sounds good. Thanks for keeping me informed, Mike. I really appreciate it.”

“Least I can do. Hey-do me a favor. You and Ben be careful.”

“Okay. Why?”

“Someone tried to off your client once, remember? Trashed your place, took a few potshots at you. From what I hear, these ANGER dudes are seriously militant. I don’t want you to get caught in the cross fire like the last lawyer did.”

“Understood.”

“Not that I normally think taking out defense attorneys is a bad thing. But I make an exception for you.”

“Thanks, Mike. You’re sweet.”

“I suppose there’s no point in trying to talk you into dropping the case.”

“ ‘Fraid not.”

“Right. Can’t be sensible. You get that from Ben. I could probably get the local PD to assign a security detail.”

“I can’t do my job with security dogs hanging over me.”

“Yeah. That’s what Ben said, too. Give my best to that former brother-in-law of mine, okay?”

“Will do, Major. Talk to you again soon.”

Christina gazed at herself in the mirror. No matter how many times she tried a case, she knew she would never get used to it. The pressure, from the first smash of the gavel to the last, was unrelenting. And it was worse when the stakes were so high. Worst of all when she knew the next witness was a critical one, perhaps the critical one. And she had to cross-examine.

Life was simpler when she had been a legal assistant. But not as much fun.

Before she left the ladies’ room, she made the traditional last-minute glamour check. Hair all properly pinned back. Check. No makeup smears. Check. Lipstick not on teeth. Check. Lunch not in teeth. Check. Everything as it should be.

She took a deep breath and smiled at that cute freckled face in the mirror. Show time.

Roger Hartnell was waiting for her in the corridor outside the courtroom. He was using a cane today but seemed to be able to get around reasonably well. “Ms. McCall! I need to speak to you.”

“I’m surprised to see you up on your feet so soon.”

“Turned out it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Bullet just winged me.”

“Hurt much?”

“Only when I move.”

“Then why aren’t you at home in bed?”

“Because I need to talk to you.”

“Look, if it’s about my dropping the case-”

“I’ve just come from a meeting of the ANGER steering committee.”

“Mr. Hartnell, I understand how you feel about our representation. I’m sure if I’d known Tony I’d feel the same way. But I can’t drop the case. So no matter what you and your committee think-”

“Miss McCall, you have been targeted.”

Christina felt a cold grip at the base of her spine. “You mean-the sniper-the figure hanging in the lobby.”

“I don’t know anything about that. We don’t condone violence. What I’m talking about is… publicity.”

“I’m not following.”

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a display mounted on stiff cardboard. “Starting tomorrow morning, these ads are going to run in major newspapers and magazines all across the country.”

The layout contained four photos. The top and largest bore the caption: THIS IS TONY BAROVICK. Below, in a photo that appeared to have been taken at Remote Control, were seven people, including Roger and Shelly and the club owner, Mario Roma. THESE ARE HIS FRIENDS. The third photo was captioned: THIS IS THE MAN WHO KILLED TONY BAROVICK. Johnny Christensen, dudded out in his prison coveralls. And the final row of photos was captioned: THESE ARE HIS FRIENDS.

There were only two. Ben and Christina.

Christina felt her jaw stiffening. “You can’t do this. This is slanderous.”

“Our attorneys assure me it is not. All we say is that you have befriended your client, which you clearly have done.”

“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Johnny. This ad calls him a killer-which has not yet been established in a court of law. He could sue you.”

“But by the time that case comes to trial, this murder trial will be over, and he will be a convicted killer. Imagine a convicted killer crying because we called him a killer a week early. I just don’t see him raking in the dough.”

Christina pushed the layout away in disgust. “You’re determined to see that Johnny is convicted, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am. I loved Tony. I want his killer punished.”

“No, you want Johnny punished. You have no idea who killed Tony. All you know is what the police tell you. And take it from me, Roger-sometimes they’re wrong.”

“Not this time. I’m certain of it.” He put the layout back in his briefcase. “And soon the rest of the world will be certain, too.”

As soon as Christina saw DA Drabble coming through the metal detector, she stepped forward. “Oh, Richard! Glad I bumped into you. The courtroom assignment has been changed.”