tilted his head toward Baxter. "Mr. Kincaid is referring to the sadistic bastard who tortured and killed Erin Faulkner's entire family."
"Ray Goldman is no sadist," Ben rejoined. "He's an educated, cultured, sensitive man. He's a gourmet cook."
"Oh, well, that proves he's innocent. Give it up, Ben. Your man did the crime."
"No," Ben said firmly, "he was just convicted of it."
"We had him dead to rights."
"The only thing you had was the testimony of the late Erin Faulkner. And yesterday, she showed up in my office and told me everything she said on the witness stand was a lie."
"What?"
"You heard me. She said DA Bullock pressured her, and she was young and malleable, and she made an identification she wasn't sure about. And as a result, Ray Goldman has lost seven years of his life."
"Wait a minute," Baxter said, forcing her way into the conversation. "Now that the woman has turned up dead, you're claiming she recanted her testimony?"
"You got it."
"Any witnesses?"
"Another lawyer in my office."
Baxter turned away, shaking her head. "I've heard of some sleazy defense-lawyer tricks in my time-"
"It's not a trick."
"Bull. You're trying to take advantage of the woman's death to get your creep off the hook. That's despicable."
"I'm telling the truth."
"Right. And the day after she cleanses her soul-to a defense lawyer of all people-she turns up dead. Now isn't that convenient?"
"No," Ben said, turning his eyes toward the bloodstained bed. "I don't find it convenient at all."
"Look," Mike said, holding up his hands, "I don't know what's going on here. But I've known Ben since college and I know damn well he wouldn't make up a story like this just to get his client off." He'd come up with something more credible, Mike thought silently.
Baxter stared at Mike, outraged. "So you're siding with the defense lawyer?"
"I'm not siding with anyone. I'm just telling you the facts. Ben's no liar. Of course, even if Erin Faulkner said it, that doesn't mean it's true." He dug his hands into his coat pockets, came up with nothing. Times like this, he really wished he hadn't quit smoking. "C'mon, Baxter. Let's finish working our suicide."
"How can you be sure it was suicide?" Ben asked.
Mike stopped. "What, you, too? She was found with the gun still in her hand."
"Hers?"
"No record of Erin Faulkner owning a gun. But it's hardly surprising she would have one. Given her past, she must have suffered from... mental disturbances. Survivor guilt. Hell, maybe she really did think her testimony was false, and she felt bad about it. Any of those could lead to suicide."
"I'm still not convinced," Baxter said.
"Look around you. Do you see any sign of a struggle? Any indication whatsoever that anyone else was here? No. And there's a reason for that. It's because no one else was here."
"Or maybe the assailant tidied up afterward. He had plenty of time."
"I'm with your partner," Ben said. "How can you be so sure?"
"Listen to me, kemo sabe. I've seen you when you get that I'm-on-a-mission-from-God look in your eyes, and I know it never turns out well. I also know you've been working on this Goldman case for years and that you'd do anything to get him off death row. But there's nothing here for you."
Ben stared at the bed. "I have to explore every possible avenue."
"Fine. You do what you have to do. But at the very least, you should let Christina work on a case that has a paying client. Otherwise, you're going to end up practicing out of the back of your van."
"Thanks for the financial advice."
"I'm just trying to help. I'm your friend, remember? I'm family. Sorta kinda."
"Yeah. But the fact that you're still carrying a torch for my sister doesn't mean you're right."
Baxter's head turned at that.
"I can tell you this for certain," Mike replied. "As soon as I get back to the office, the Erin Faulkner death is going to be a closed file."
"Is that so?" Baxter said, one fist on her hip.
"Yeah. That's so."
"In that case," Ben said,
"Ray Goldman is no sadist," Ben rejoined. "He's an educated, cultured, sensitive man. He's a gourmet cook."
"Oh, well, that proves he's innocent. Give it up, Ben. Your man did the crime."
"No," Ben said firmly, "he was just convicted of it."
"We had him dead to rights."
"The only thing you had was the testimony of the late Erin Faulkner. And yesterday, she showed up in my office and told me everything she said on the witness stand was a lie."
"What?"
"You heard me. She said DA Bullock pressured her, and she was young and malleable, and she made an identification she wasn't sure about. And as a result, Ray Goldman has lost seven years of his life."
"Wait a minute," Baxter said, forcing her way into the conversation. "Now that the woman has turned up dead, you're claiming she recanted her testimony?"
"You got it."
"Any witnesses?"
"Another lawyer in my office."
Baxter turned away, shaking her head. "I've heard of some sleazy defense-lawyer tricks in my time-"
"It's not a trick."
"Bull. You're trying to take advantage of the woman's death to get your creep off the hook. That's despicable."
"I'm telling the truth."
"Right. And the day after she cleanses her soul-to a defense lawyer of all people-she turns up dead. Now isn't that convenient?"
"No," Ben said, turning his eyes toward the bloodstained bed. "I don't find it convenient at all."
"Look," Mike said, holding up his hands, "I don't know what's going on here. But I've known Ben since college and I know damn well he wouldn't make up a story like this just to get his client off." He'd come up with something more credible, Mike thought silently.
Baxter stared at Mike, outraged. "So you're siding with the defense lawyer?"
"I'm not siding with anyone. I'm just telling you the facts. Ben's no liar. Of course, even if Erin Faulkner said it, that doesn't mean it's true." He dug his hands into his coat pockets, came up with nothing. Times like this, he really wished he hadn't quit smoking. "C'mon, Baxter. Let's finish working our suicide."
"How can you be sure it was suicide?" Ben asked.
Mike stopped. "What, you, too? She was found with the gun still in her hand."
"Hers?"
"No record of Erin Faulkner owning a gun. But it's hardly surprising she would have one. Given her past, she must have suffered from... mental disturbances. Survivor guilt. Hell, maybe she really did think her testimony was false, and she felt bad about it. Any of those could lead to suicide."
"I'm still not convinced," Baxter said.
"Look around you. Do you see any sign of a struggle? Any indication whatsoever that anyone else was here? No. And there's a reason for that. It's because no one else was here."
"Or maybe the assailant tidied up afterward. He had plenty of time."
"I'm with your partner," Ben said. "How can you be so sure?"
"Listen to me, kemo sabe. I've seen you when you get that I'm-on-a-mission-from-God look in your eyes, and I know it never turns out well. I also know you've been working on this Goldman case for years and that you'd do anything to get him off death row. But there's nothing here for you."
Ben stared at the bed. "I have to explore every possible avenue."
"Fine. You do what you have to do. But at the very least, you should let Christina work on a case that has a paying client. Otherwise, you're going to end up practicing out of the back of your van."
"Thanks for the financial advice."
"I'm just trying to help. I'm your friend, remember? I'm family. Sorta kinda."
"Yeah. But the fact that you're still carrying a torch for my sister doesn't mean you're right."
Baxter's head turned at that.
"I can tell you this for certain," Mike replied. "As soon as I get back to the office, the Erin Faulkner death is going to be a closed file."
"Is that so?" Baxter said, one fist on her hip.
"Yeah. That's so."
"In that case," Ben said,
Similar Books
