took place. Investigators found your prints on a twelve-gauge shotgun left at the scene, the same shotgun allegedly used to kill Deputy Sheriff Randal Carter."
"I didn't kill him!" Morallen sat up straight in his chair. "Believe what you want, but I'm innocent."
"The sheriff's report identifies you as the shooter."
"No way—"
"Can you explain why your prints were on the gun?"
"I ain't saying I never touched it. I'm saying I never shot it."
"Then what did you do with it?"
"Hell if I know. I must have picked it up and moved it or something. Guns are dangerous. I don't mess with them."
Leslie rolled her eyes. And politicians don't lie... She wrote a note to herself. A reminder to pick up more nasal decongestant on her way home. "That's a touching story, but you're a lousy liar. I can't help you if you're not up front with me."
"I was there. I'll give you that. But I swear I didn't shoot no cop."
"Then who did?"
Morallen looked away from Leslie and gazed at the video surveillance camera in the ceiling. "I was working the stove when deputy do-right showed up."
"You mean Deputy Carter?"
"Whatever. I didn't wait around to catch his name."
Leslie showed a photo of Carter on the slab in the morgue, the picture taken to show the undamaged side of his face. "Is this the man you saw?"
"Yeah, that's him. The sheriff rolled up a few minutes later. Tried to sneak around back like he was some kind of super cop."
"How many people were in the house with you?"
"Just me and one other dude."
"This dude have a name?"
"Hugo. I don't know his last name. He kept to himself. Walked around in his stupid gas mask like he was Darth Vader or something."
"Why was he there?"
"Security. The house was his."
Leslie jotted notes on her legal pad. "So the two of you were in the house cooking drugs when Sheriff Blanchart and Deputy Carter responded to the scene. Tell me what happened after that."
Morallen eyed the surveillance camera.
Leslie followed his stare. "The camera's video only. There's no audio. Anything you tell me is confidential."
"Hugo went Mad Max on those cops. Started shooting up the place. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Blasting through walls and furniture and shit. I got up in the attic and stayed low. That's when the cop was killed."
"Why were you hiding in the attic?"
"I wasn't hiding. I store the finished product up there."
"So you figured you'd wait until the sheriff's party ended and then make off with the goods?"
"Yeah..."
"Did you see Hugo shoot Deputy Carter?"
"You got it wrong. Your man had Hugo cornered in the kitchen. Hugo ate the shotgun himself. Blew his own brains out before anyone could slap the cuffs on him."
Leslie replayed Morallen's story in her mind. "If Hugo was the only other person in the house besides you, and he didn't shoot Carter, then who did?"
Morallen kept silent for several seconds. Then he leaned over the table and said, "I want a deal."
"Are you stoned?"
"Lady, this is a give and take situation. You give me a deal I can live with and I'll tell you what I saw."
"You've been in the system before," said Leslie. Her throat felt scratchy and sore. "So you know how this works." She swallowed a dry mouth, desperate for a sip of water. "You tell me what you know—all of it—and I'll see what I can do for you. You jerk me around and throw shit on my face, and you'll get the same in return."
"So that's how you wanna play this," said Morallen.
"I don't play games. Right now I'm the only friend you've got. You can either tell me what you know and make an effort to help yourself—or get comfortable with the thought of life in prison."
Morallen leaned back in his chair with puckered lips and kept his mouth shut.
Leslie sat and waited. She'd seen it so many times before. He was contemplating his next move. And deciding the lady lawyer had more spine than the dude she replaced. And the balls to match.
"You gotta get me some protection in here," he said in a voice barely loud enough to hear.
"From
"I didn't kill him!" Morallen sat up straight in his chair. "Believe what you want, but I'm innocent."
"The sheriff's report identifies you as the shooter."
"No way—"
"Can you explain why your prints were on the gun?"
"I ain't saying I never touched it. I'm saying I never shot it."
"Then what did you do with it?"
"Hell if I know. I must have picked it up and moved it or something. Guns are dangerous. I don't mess with them."
Leslie rolled her eyes. And politicians don't lie... She wrote a note to herself. A reminder to pick up more nasal decongestant on her way home. "That's a touching story, but you're a lousy liar. I can't help you if you're not up front with me."
"I was there. I'll give you that. But I swear I didn't shoot no cop."
"Then who did?"
Morallen looked away from Leslie and gazed at the video surveillance camera in the ceiling. "I was working the stove when deputy do-right showed up."
"You mean Deputy Carter?"
"Whatever. I didn't wait around to catch his name."
Leslie showed a photo of Carter on the slab in the morgue, the picture taken to show the undamaged side of his face. "Is this the man you saw?"
"Yeah, that's him. The sheriff rolled up a few minutes later. Tried to sneak around back like he was some kind of super cop."
"How many people were in the house with you?"
"Just me and one other dude."
"This dude have a name?"
"Hugo. I don't know his last name. He kept to himself. Walked around in his stupid gas mask like he was Darth Vader or something."
"Why was he there?"
"Security. The house was his."
Leslie jotted notes on her legal pad. "So the two of you were in the house cooking drugs when Sheriff Blanchart and Deputy Carter responded to the scene. Tell me what happened after that."
Morallen eyed the surveillance camera.
Leslie followed his stare. "The camera's video only. There's no audio. Anything you tell me is confidential."
"Hugo went Mad Max on those cops. Started shooting up the place. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Blasting through walls and furniture and shit. I got up in the attic and stayed low. That's when the cop was killed."
"Why were you hiding in the attic?"
"I wasn't hiding. I store the finished product up there."
"So you figured you'd wait until the sheriff's party ended and then make off with the goods?"
"Yeah..."
"Did you see Hugo shoot Deputy Carter?"
"You got it wrong. Your man had Hugo cornered in the kitchen. Hugo ate the shotgun himself. Blew his own brains out before anyone could slap the cuffs on him."
Leslie replayed Morallen's story in her mind. "If Hugo was the only other person in the house besides you, and he didn't shoot Carter, then who did?"
Morallen kept silent for several seconds. Then he leaned over the table and said, "I want a deal."
"Are you stoned?"
"Lady, this is a give and take situation. You give me a deal I can live with and I'll tell you what I saw."
"You've been in the system before," said Leslie. Her throat felt scratchy and sore. "So you know how this works." She swallowed a dry mouth, desperate for a sip of water. "You tell me what you know—all of it—and I'll see what I can do for you. You jerk me around and throw shit on my face, and you'll get the same in return."
"So that's how you wanna play this," said Morallen.
"I don't play games. Right now I'm the only friend you've got. You can either tell me what you know and make an effort to help yourself—or get comfortable with the thought of life in prison."
Morallen leaned back in his chair with puckered lips and kept his mouth shut.
Leslie sat and waited. She'd seen it so many times before. He was contemplating his next move. And deciding the lady lawyer had more spine than the dude she replaced. And the balls to match.
"You gotta get me some protection in here," he said in a voice barely loud enough to hear.
"From
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