Bill.'
A True Bill, as both lawyers knew, is a written decision of the grand jury, signed by the jury foreperson, that it has heard sufficient evidence from the prosecution to believe that an accused person has probably committed a crime and should be indicted.
'And damage my client's reputation,' said Pease. 'As will any plea bargain.'
'We have the gun,' said Fineberg, looking at Mac.
'We're testing the gun in Ms. Cormier's drawer,' he said.
'Which you've already determined has not been- ' Pease began.
'It matches the bullet we found at the bottom of the elevator shaft,' said Mac. 'Ms. Cormier shot Charles Lutnikov, put on her coat, dropped her gun and the bolt cutter, which she'd probably had in her trophy case, into her tote bag, locked the elevator on her floor, and hurried down the stairs in time to take her usual, morning walk. It was eight on a snowy blizzard-like weekend. It wasn't likely anyone in her section of the building would be up and trying to get the elevator for hours. Besides, she planned to be gone only about thirty minutes.'
'And where does your fanciful story assume my client went?' asked Pease.
'To Drietch's firing range, four blocks away,' said Mac. 'Even in the snow and ice she could make it in fifteen minutes. I just did by walking fast. She knew the range wasn't open for another three hours on a Saturday. She opened the outer door with a simple credit card. Her detective in three of her books has done the same thing. Ms. Cormier had probably checked that it could be done.'
'Premeditation,' said Joelle Fineberg.
'Your client went to the room where the guns are stored,' Mac went on. 'She cut the bolt on the box containing the gun she used at the range, took the gun out, dropped it in her purse and replaced it with the murder weapon. Then she threw the cut lock onto the firing range. She knew someone would eventually notice, after she switched the guns again, that the range Walther would be found, that any competent detective would know it hadn't been fired recently and she knew an examination of the gun and bullet would show they didn't match, but she didn't think it would come to that. If Drietch or anyone checked the box even before the switch was made again, they'd think they were seeing the gun that was normally kept there. Ms. Cormier was reasonably confident that they wouldn't check, but it really didn't matter.'
'How far-fetched can-?' Pease said.
'I suggest you read one of your client's first three novels if you want to see how far-fetched a story she can come up with.'
Pease shook his head wearily as if listening to Mac was an undeserved punishment he would have to endure.
Mac ignored the lawyer and went on.
'Ms. Cormier went back home quickly, put the bolt cutter in the basement, went up the stairs, released the elevator so it would go down to the first floor, and put the gun she had taken from the shooting range into her drawer.'
'And then?' Pease asked, shaking his head as if he were being forced to listen to a fairy tale.
'She waited for us to come and readily showed us the gun, practically insisted on it. It was the gun she had taken from the range, not the one she always kept in her drawer. When we were gone, she went back to the range, said she wanted to practice and switched the guns again, leaving the one that was usually in the box. Officer Burn went to the range, examined the gun, and determined that it wasn't the murder weapon.'
'Your client hid the murder weapon in plain sight,' said Fineberg. 'In the drawer of her desk. She did it thinking that CSI wouldn't examine it a second time after determining that it hadn't been fired.'
'The bullet is going to match your gun,' Mac said to Louisa Cormier. 'You made the whole thing too complicated.'
'It almost worked,' whispered Louisa Cormier.
'Louisa,' Pease warned, leaning over to whisper to his client before sitting up. 'Self defense,' he said. 'Charles Lutnikov came to my client's apartment after threatening her on the phone. She had the gun out to protect herself. He tried to wrestle it from her. It went off. She panicked.'
'And then thought out the elaborate cover-up on the spot,' said Fineberg.
'Yes,' said Pease. 'She's a writer with a very active imagination.'
'Who didn't write her own books,' said Mac.
'We'll see what a jury thinks about that,' said Pease.
'Why would Lutnikov threaten Ms. Cormier?'
Neither lawyer nor client spoke.
'Involuntary manslaughter,' said Pease. 'Suspended sentence.'
'No,' said Fineberg. 'The evidence these officers have gathered shows intent, premeditation, and cover- up.'
Pease leaned over to whisper in Louisa Cormier's ear. A look of horror came over her face.
'Murder Two,' said Fineberg.
'Manslaughter,' said Pease. 'Nothing goes public. You pick a judge who will seal the record. Say what you like to the media.'
Fineberg looked at Mac and then turned to Pease, shaking her head.
'Off the record?' Pease said, patting his client's hand.
'Off the record,' said Fineberg.
'Louisa?' Pease said, hand on her arm ready to guide her with gentle pressure.
'I can't,' Louisa Cormier said, looking at Pease.
Pease cocked his head and said, 'They can't use it unless we let them.'
Louisa Cormier sighed.
'I shot Charles Lutnikov. He was blackmailing me,' she said, looking at the table, hands folded white-knuckled in front of her now.
'You had been paying him for writing your books,' said Fineberg.
'It wasn't about money,' Louisa said. 'It was about writing credit. He wanted all my future books to bear both of our names as author. I offered him more money. He wasn't interested.'
'So you shot him?' asked Fineberg.
'He said he was bringing up the manuscript of the new book and that he would give it to me only if I had a notarized statement saying that the book would bear both of our names. I couldn't have that. People, editors, reviewers would start to think about my previous books, and Charles couldn't be counted on to keep from telling about his helping me with the previous books.'
'And…?' Fineberg said after a long pause by Louisa Cormier.
'When he came up, I stopped the elevator. The manuscript was in his hands, clutched to his chest like a baby. He wanted it to be our baby. I tried to reason with him, told him that if we continued the way we were I'd help him get his own books published. He wasn't interested. He reached over to the elevator buttons and pressed a button when it happened.'
'You shot him,' said Fineberg.
'I didn't mean to,' she said. 'I just wanted to threaten him, warn him, frighten him, have him hand me the manuscript. The elevator door closed on my hand. He grabbed for the gun. He was enraged. The gun fired. The doors opened again. I could see he was dead. I hit the button to stop the elevator and took the manuscript from him.'
'Unfortunate accident. No. Self defense,' said Pease with a broad smile.
'Then why hide the gun,' Fineberg said. 'Why make all of this up?'
'My career, my… I was frightened,' Louisa Cormier said.
'You didn't plan to shoot him, but you immediately thought of a plan, a very complicated plan, as soon as you shot him. You were on your way to the firing range with the gun and a bolt cutter minutes, maybe seconds, after you shot Lutnikov,' said Fineberg skeptically.
'Make an offer, Ms. Fineberg,' Pease said. 'Make it a good one.'
