Her eyes widened. “Ain’t he the one who got kilt the same night as my Kyrie, him and his family?”
“That’s right. Did Gloria ever mention his name to you?”
“Naw, but that’s a terrible thing what happened to that family. Terrible.”
“Yes, it is,” Harris said. “Ms. Sprague, please don’t take offense at this, but I have to ask you since we can’t find Gloria. Is it possible that Kyrie got so angry at Gloria for always turning him down that he might have harmed her?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Oh, I hope not.”
“You sound worried about that. How come?”
She let out a sigh. “Last week, Kyrie come by to see me, and he was all worked up about Gloria. He said she tol’ him once and for all, it ain’t never gonna happen between them and to leave her alone.”
“What else did Kyrie say?”
Her eyes filled and her voice broke. “He said he tol’ her if he can’t have her, ain’t no man gonna have her.”
“When was the last time you saw Gloria?”
“Been a while, a few weeks, maybe. She keep a lot of her things here, comes by sometimes to get somethin’.”
“Could we see her room?” Harris asked.
“Long as you don’t blame me for the way it look. That girl don’t take care of nuthin’ but herself.”
She led them down a narrow hall and opened the door to a cramped bedroom, clothes piled on the floor, bed unmade. Rossi stepped over and around the mess, opened the closet door, and stepped back.
“Check this out,” Rossi said to Harris, pointing to the floor of the closet.
“What is it?” Harris asked from the other side of the room.
“An aluminum baseball bat.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“I can’t believe my trial starts tomorrow,” Alex said.
“That’s why they call it a speedy trial,” Lou Mason said. “Six months from when you were arraigned. Not bad for a murder case. Usually takes longer.”
They were in Mason’s office above a midtown bar called Blues on Broadway, Alex on a sofa, Mason behind his desk. Claire’s office was in an old house she’d rehabbed that was a mile closer to downtown. She’d kicked them out while she finished preparing for jury selection and her opening statement.
A whiteboard hung on one wall, peppered with lists of exhibits and witnesses. The names of prosecution witnesses were in red, and defense witnesses were in blue. Mason had drawn green lines showing connections between various witnesses, jotting notes about their relationships.
“If it took any longer, I’d go crazy. All this sitting around and waiting.”
“It’s too bad Robin Norris wouldn’t let you keep working until the trial.”
“She didn’t have much choice but to suspend me. It’s hard enough to get our clients to trust us, but if they think their lawyer murdered her last client, well, you can forget about it.”
“I hear that.”
Alex studied the list of witnesses. “Have we figured out why Ortiz put Gloria Temple on his list?”
“All we know is that the police put her on Kyrie Chapman’s list of known associates. Ortiz says he doesn’t know where she is or what she will testify to, but he put her on his list in case he finds her.”
“According to Jameer Henderson’s testimony in the Wilfred Donaire trial, Kyrie Chapman told Jameer that a girl gave Dwayne Reed a gold necklace that belonged to Donaire. Dwayne had the necklace when he was arrested. Gloria could have been that girl.”
“If you’re right, what does that have to do with your case?”
Alex ran her fingers through her hair. “I wish I knew. Any chance we’ll find her before Ortiz does?”
“It doesn’t look good. I’ve run every trap I can think of, and I’ve had help from the best.”
“You mean Blues, the guy who owns the bar. He’s that good?”
“I tell you he’s that good. He’s an ex-homicide cop and he’s done a lot of investigative work for me. If he can’t find her, nobody can.”
“Do you think she’s dead?” Alex asked.
“Smart money says yes.”
“Then she’s one less thing to worry about.” Alex rose and walked to the board, tracing her finger around Bonnie’s name.
“How are things between the two of you?” Mason asked.
She shrugged. “About what you’d expect-awful, horrible, disastrous. Take your pick. And things have only gotten worse since Ortiz subpoenaed her to testify at the trial. We can’t even talk about the case because she’ll have to testify about whatever we say. We don’t know what to say to each other, so we don’t say anything at all.”
“That’s a tough way to live.”
“Tell me about it. Here’s the interesting part. I don’t think she’s mad at me because I killed Dwayne. She put up her IRA as collateral for my bond without saying a word about that because she knows we can’t fucking talk about the fucking case. For all I know she may be glad I killed him after the way he threatened us. And even though we’ve never talked about what happened that day, I’m certain she believes it was self-defense.”
“Why?”
Alex turned toward him. “Because she can’t live with the possibility that I’m a murderer. But I think the thing that’s really festered, especially since we’ve never talked about it, is my gun.”
“What about your gun?”
“I bought it, didn’t tell her, and lied to her about working late when I was at the Bullet Hole shooting range learning how to use it.”
“And that,” Mason said, “is why Ortiz listed the owner of the Bullet Hole as a witness. He’s going to argue that you began planning to murder Dwayne the moment Dwayne made you throw up on the street and that buying the gun was the first step, not telling Bonnie was the second step, and spending nights and weekends at the Bullet Hole was the third.”
“And how is he going to get into evidence what Dwayne told me? I’m the only one, besides you and Claire, who knows about that.”
“The detective, Rossi.”
“I never told Rossi.”
“When Claire deposed Rossi, he said that he thinks Dwayne told you he’d killed Wilfred Donaire because of the way you reacted.”
Alex planted her hands on her hips. “Dwayne didn’t tell me that. I asked him if he killed Donaire. He wouldn’t say, but he threatened me if I ever brought it up again. Scared me shitless. That’s why I puked.”
It was the lie she’d been telling since she first sat down with Claire and Mason to tell them what had led up to Dwayne’s death. She hadn’t intended to lie-at least she couldn’t remember making that decision in advance. But sitting in Claire’s office, listening to her explain the gravity of the charges and the strength of the prosecution’s case, it made sense. Her claim of self-defense depended on proving that she was in immediate fear for her life. And Dwayne had threatened her. It made no difference to her that he’d also confessed, but Patrick Ortiz would use that detail to build his case that she’d turned from public defender to private avenger. Dwayne was the only who could contradict her testimony, and he was permanently unavailable.
Mason looked at her, his face blank. “I know. You’ve told me.”
“So how can Judge West possibly let Rossi’s speculative bullshit into evidence?”
“Because he’s the judge and you’re the one who insisted we stick with him even though he’s the most pro- prosecution judge in the history of mankind. And, in case you hadn’t noticed, he’s ruled against us on every one of our pretrial motions. He’s leaving everything on the table until it comes up at trial. That’s when he’ll decide. In the meantime, we should expect the worst from him.”
