James Patterson - 7th Heaven

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you very much.”

Yuki smiled at Charlie Clapper as the judge told him that he could step down.

YUKI SAT BESIDE the immense form of Len Parisi as Junie Moon’s sleazebag pimp-boyfriend, Ricardo “Ricky” Malcolm, was sworn in.

Yuki was fully aware that Davis had hired a bounty hunter to drag Ricky Malcolm over the Mexican border for his court appearance, and as Malcolm swore to tell the whole truth, she wondered if Davis really thought this punked-out, tattooed, and homely creep could persuade the jury of anything. Davis ’s voice was confident as she asked Malcolm her preliminary questions, getting out ahead of the prosecution by getting Malcolm to say he’d served time for drug possession.

Then Davis started her direct examination in earnest.

“What’s your relationship to Ms. Moon?”

“I was her boyfriend.”

“No longer?”

“We’re separated,” Malcolm said drily. “I’m in Tijuana and she’s in jail.”

Titters arose in little pockets around the gallery.

“How long have you known Ms. Moon?” Davis asked.

“Gotta be three years.”

“And did there come a time last January twenty-first when Ms. Moon called you at around eleven thirty at night and asked you to come to her house because one of her clients was having a heart attack?”

“No.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re saying Junie didn’t call to tell you she needed help with Michael Campion?”

“No, ma’am. No, she did not.”

“Did the police question you about the dismemberment and disposal of Michael Campion’s body?”

“Yep. I told them I didn’t do it.”

“Were you telling the truth?”

Malcolm started to laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I told them the truth. I never dismembered anybody. I can’t stand the sight of blood. I eat steak well-done . It was one of the wackiest things I ever heard.”

“I agree,” Davis said. “Pretty wacky.”

Yuki jumped to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Ms. Davis’s opinions are totally irrelevant here.”

“Sustained.”

Davis spun on her heels, took a few paces toward the jury, then turned back again. “And yet ,” Davis said, her voice ringing out across the oak-paneled courtroom, “according to police testimony, Ms. Moon said that she called you because Mr. Campion was having a heart attack , and that when you arrived at her place, Mr. Campion was dead .”

“It’s totally bogus. Never happened,” Malcolm said, clearly enjoying himself.

“The police further testified that Ms. Moon told them that you dismembered Mr. Campion with a knife and that you and Ms. Moon then transported Mr. Campion’s remains and disposed of them in a Dumpster.

“Did that happen?”

“ No way . Crock a’ shit. Plus, I’ve got no skill with anything but power tools.”

“Okay, Mr. Malcolm. So, in your opinion, why would Ms. Moon say such a thing if it isn’t true?”

“Because,” Malcolm said, looking at Junie with his spacey green eyes, “she’s simple, you know, like a special ed kid. She sucks up romance novels, daytime soaps -”

“Move to strike, Your Honor,” Yuki said. “This whole line of questioning calls for speculation.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Malcolm’s testimony goes to the credibility of the defendant.”

“I’ll allow it. Go on, Mr. Malcolm.”

Yuki sighed loudly, took her seat again between Gaines and Red Dog as Malcolm continued.

“Like I was saying, in my opinion, right? When the cops asked her if she’d done the deed with the famous Michael Campion, that was like lighting up a wide-screen, three-D fantasy starring Junie Moon, stupid little whore -”

“Thanks, Mr. Malcolm. Were you charged as an accessory in this crime?”

“The cops tried, but the DA knew they couldn’t indict me on Junie’s flaky confession, especially since she, whatcha-callit, recanted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malcolm. Your witness,” Davis said with a smirk to Yuki.

YUKI READ LEN’S NOTES to her, his suggested line of questioning exactly what she planned to ask, but what was underscored in her mind was how important Malcolm was to the defense. And how important it was that she nullify his testimony.

Yuki stood, walked toward the witness stand, saying, “Mr. Malcolm, are you here today of your own volition?”

“Not exactly. The long arm of the law reached out and grabbed me out of a nice little titty bar in Tijuana.”

“You have friends in Mexico, Mr. Malcolm?” Yuki asked over the laughter in the gallery. “Or was this a case of ‘you can run but you can’t hide’?”

“A little of both.” Malcolm shrugged, giving the jury a glimpse of his terrible, gappy smile.

“A few minutes ago you swore to tell the truth, isn’t that right?”

“I got nothing against the truth,” Malcolm said.

Yuki put her hands on the railing in front of the witness, asked, “How do you feel about the defendant? Ms. Moon.”

“Junie’s a sweet girl.”

“Let’s see if we can refine that answer, okay?”

Malcolm shrugged, said, “Refine away.”

Yuki allowed a smile to show the jury she was a good sport, then said, “If you and Junie Moon were both free to walk out of here, Mr. Malcolm, would you spend the night with her?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“And if she needed a kidney, would you give her one of yours?”

“I’ve got two, right?”

“Yes. Odds are you have two.”

“Sure. I’d give her a kidney.” Ricky Malcolm grinned expansively, conveying what a generous guy he was.

“During your three-year-long relationship with the defendant, did you share things with her? Enjoy doing things with her?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“And how do you feel about her now?”

“That’s a little personal, isn’t it?”

Davis called out, “Your Honor, is this the Dr. Phil show? There’s no relevance -”

“If the court would give me a moment to show relevance,” Yuki interrupted.

“Overruled, Ms. Davis. Proceed, Ms. Castellano.”

“Thanks, Your Honor,” Yuki said. “Mr. Malcolm, your feelings aren’t a secret, are they? Would you please roll up your right sleeve and show your arm to the jury.”

Malcolm hesitated until the judge asked him to do it. Then he exposed his arm to the jury.

Called a “full sleeve” by tat aficionados, a dense collection of tattoos ran up Ricky Malcolm’s pale skin from his wrist to his shoulder. Among the snakes and skulls was a red heart branded with the initials R.M . hanging from the hook of a feminized crescent moon.

“Mr. Malcolm, could you tell us what the letters underneath that heart tattoo mean?”

“You mean T-M-T-Y-L-M-J-M ?”

“That’s right, Mr. Malcolm.”

Malcolm sighed. “It stands for ‘Tell me that you love me, Junie Moon.’ ”

“So, Mr. Malcolm, is it fair to say that you love the defendant?”

Malcolm was looking at Junie now, his face heavy, having lost its wiseass expression, Junie looking back at him with her huge slate-gray eyes.

“Yes. I love her.”

“Do you love her enough to lie for her?”

“Sure, I’d lie for her, what the hell?”

“Thanks, Mr. Malcolm. I’m done with this witness, Judge,” said Yuki, turning her back on Ricky Malcolm.

JACOBI CALLED THE MEETING to order at the crack of eight a.m. He asked me to come to the front of the room to brief the troops on our arson-homicide case and where we were with it – that is to say, nowhere. I was wearing jeans and a beaded tank top, a pair of moccasins, and a faded denim jacket that I’d left at Joe’s place before the fire.