Darning — is the man in the photo,” Mary said tentatively. “He used to be a guy with a job, but now he’s homeless. It happens every day. We know he was alcoholic, the neighbors told us that. Let’s say he started drinking after he left the bank teller job and went downhill from there. Lost his job, his girl. Grew a beard.”
Judy set down the photo, thinking aloud. “So you think this has to do with Darning?”
“Maybe. Maybe it wasn’t a chance meeting between Darning and Steere. Maybe they knew each other.”
“That’s even dopier than what I said.” Judy screwed up her large features, and Mary raised her hand like the Pope.
“Hear me out. Put together what we learned. Let’s say Steere didn’t know the traffic light was red. If he didn’t, his actions don’t make any sense, right?”
“Right. Unless he was really blitzed, which he wasn’t, according to his blood tests.”
“Besides, Steere’s a big guy. He can absorb a lot of booze.” Mary sipped coffee from her mug, more for courage than caffeine. “Steere’s stopping under the bridge doesn’t make sense unless you assume he wanted to meet Darning. They could have arranged to meet under the bridge. Assume Steere was stopping regardless of the light, to kill Darning. Then he made up the whole carjacking story.”
“The carjacking was a lie?”
Mary shook her head. “Not a lie, a
setup
. Work with me. Remember, it’s not a chance meeting.” Although Mary was only thinking aloud, she felt her pulse quicken. “Steere was driving a new Mercedes. Two weeks old, right?”
“Let me double-check.” Judy rose and went to the third accordion file. She flipped through the manila folders until she found the right one, yanked it out, and opened it up. “Here we go. The bill of sale for Steere’s new car. It was three weeks old. $120,000! Wow!”
“What did he trade in? Bet it didn’t look like the Snotmobile.” By that Mary meant her ancient BMW 2002, the only chartreuse car ever sold.
“Look at all this stuff.” Judy was agog. “ ‘Air-bags, leather-covered steering wheel and gear lever, speaker blanking plates integrated on the left and right side of the dashboard — ’”
“Jude, what did he trade in?”
“I wonder what a blanking plate is. How could I graduate from law school and not know what a blanking plate is?”
“Judy! The trade-in.”
Judy flipped to a series of long white documents and screwed up her face in triplicate. “Oh, here. Jeez. He traded in a Mercedes sedan. An S500. V-8. It says ‘Five-Sitzer, four Turen.’”
“How old was the trade-in?” Mary craned her neck to read the document. “How many miles on it?”
“Half a year old. It had fifteen hundred miles on it.” Judy looked up and the two associates locked eyes.
“It’s not as if Steere needed a new car, is it?” Mary felt an ominous churning in the pit of her stomach and it wasn’t the coffee. Suddenly the brief didn’t matter and neither did her job. “What if Steere planned this whole thing? What if he bought the car to make the carjacking more plausible? What if Steere arranged to meet Darnton — Darning — to kill him? That’s murder. Premeditated murder.”
Judy cocked her head, skeptical now that Mary’s expression was turning so grave. “You mean Steere used the new Mercedes as bait?”
“No. I mean Steere intended to kill Darning for some reason and bought the car in advance of that — to make the carjacking more plausible.”
“Wait, wait, slow up. You’re serious about this?”
Mary nodded. “It fits, doesn’t it? It’s consistent with what we found. Maybe Steere is a murderer.” It made Mary sick to say it. “And we defended him. We probably got him off.”
“Mary, wait.” Judy shook her head. “Just because Steere bought a new car doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. Rich people do stuff like that all the time. An impulse purchase.”
“A convertible? A white Mercedes that cost as much as a
Judy set down the photo, thinking aloud. “So you think this has to do with Darning?”
“Maybe. Maybe it wasn’t a chance meeting between Darning and Steere. Maybe they knew each other.”
“That’s even dopier than what I said.” Judy screwed up her large features, and Mary raised her hand like the Pope.
“Hear me out. Put together what we learned. Let’s say Steere didn’t know the traffic light was red. If he didn’t, his actions don’t make any sense, right?”
“Right. Unless he was really blitzed, which he wasn’t, according to his blood tests.”
“Besides, Steere’s a big guy. He can absorb a lot of booze.” Mary sipped coffee from her mug, more for courage than caffeine. “Steere’s stopping under the bridge doesn’t make sense unless you assume he wanted to meet Darning. They could have arranged to meet under the bridge. Assume Steere was stopping regardless of the light, to kill Darning. Then he made up the whole carjacking story.”
“The carjacking was a lie?”
Mary shook her head. “Not a lie, a
setup
. Work with me. Remember, it’s not a chance meeting.” Although Mary was only thinking aloud, she felt her pulse quicken. “Steere was driving a new Mercedes. Two weeks old, right?”
“Let me double-check.” Judy rose and went to the third accordion file. She flipped through the manila folders until she found the right one, yanked it out, and opened it up. “Here we go. The bill of sale for Steere’s new car. It was three weeks old. $120,000! Wow!”
“What did he trade in? Bet it didn’t look like the Snotmobile.” By that Mary meant her ancient BMW 2002, the only chartreuse car ever sold.
“Look at all this stuff.” Judy was agog. “ ‘Air-bags, leather-covered steering wheel and gear lever, speaker blanking plates integrated on the left and right side of the dashboard — ’”
“Jude, what did he trade in?”
“I wonder what a blanking plate is. How could I graduate from law school and not know what a blanking plate is?”
“Judy! The trade-in.”
Judy flipped to a series of long white documents and screwed up her face in triplicate. “Oh, here. Jeez. He traded in a Mercedes sedan. An S500. V-8. It says ‘Five-Sitzer, four Turen.’”
“How old was the trade-in?” Mary craned her neck to read the document. “How many miles on it?”
“Half a year old. It had fifteen hundred miles on it.” Judy looked up and the two associates locked eyes.
“It’s not as if Steere needed a new car, is it?” Mary felt an ominous churning in the pit of her stomach and it wasn’t the coffee. Suddenly the brief didn’t matter and neither did her job. “What if Steere planned this whole thing? What if he bought the car to make the carjacking more plausible? What if Steere arranged to meet Darnton — Darning — to kill him? That’s murder. Premeditated murder.”
Judy cocked her head, skeptical now that Mary’s expression was turning so grave. “You mean Steere used the new Mercedes as bait?”
“No. I mean Steere intended to kill Darning for some reason and bought the car in advance of that — to make the carjacking more plausible.”
“Wait, wait, slow up. You’re serious about this?”
Mary nodded. “It fits, doesn’t it? It’s consistent with what we found. Maybe Steere is a murderer.” It made Mary sick to say it. “And we defended him. We probably got him off.”
“Mary, wait.” Judy shook her head. “Just because Steere bought a new car doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. Rich people do stuff like that all the time. An impulse purchase.”
“A convertible? A white Mercedes that cost as much as a
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