It should be. Art Prochaska's testimony was the legal equivalent of a nuclear weapon. There isn't any evidence left for the State to use.
How long have you known about Prochaska?
He called Friday evening.
So you knew we' d win all along.
There's no such thing as a sure thing, but this is as close as I've ever gotten. Frank noticed the look on Amanda's face and added, I hope you're not upset that I didn't tell you about Art.
No, that's okay, Amanda answered, but she was upset. They walked in silence for half a block. Then Amanda's thoughts shifted to Cardoni.
I know I should be excited because we won, but I just ... I think he killed those people, Dad.
I don't feel so good about this one myself, Frank admitted.
If he's guilty, they can't try him, can they?
Nope. I did too good a job. Vincent's free and clear.
What if he does it again?
Frank put his arm around Amanda's shoulders. His closeness was comforting, but it could not make her forget the videotape or the still pictures of the nine corpses.
About three years after I started out I second-chaired a terrible case with Phil Lomax. Two young children and their baby-sitter were murdered during a home burglary. The crime was brutal. The defendant was a very bad actor. Totally unrepentant, cruel, with a long history of prior vicious assaults. The DA was certain she had the right man, but the evidence was paper thin. We fought our guts out, and the chances of conviction were about fifty-fifty by the end of the trial.
After the jury went out, Phil and I went to one bar to wait and the DA and her staff went to another. The jury came back four hours later with a guilty verdict. About a month later I bumped into one of the DA's investigators. He told me that Phil and I had been the subject of discussion while the prosecutor and her assistants were waiting for the verdict. They thought that we were very ethical lawyers who had fought hard but had also fought clean. They respected us as people and they had come to the conclusion that we' d sleep better with a conviction than an acquittal. They were right. I was actually relieved that we had lost, even though I gave one hundred and ten percent for our client.
Do you feel bad now?
Do you hear me bragging about our victory, Amanda? As a professional, I' m proud that I did my job. As an officer of the court, I feel good about exposing perjury by someone who is sworn to protect us and uphold the Constitution. What Vasquez did was inexcusable. But I' m also a human being and I' m worried. So I pray that Vincent Cardoni is an innocent man who has been wrongly accused. If he's guilty, I pray that this experience has frightened him so much that he won't hurt anyone else.
Frank gave Amanda's hand a squeeze.
This is not an easy business, Amanda. It's not easy at all.
Chapter 23
Martin Breach was hunkered down over a slab of ribs when Art Prochaska walked into the restaurant. He motioned Prochaska into a chair with a hand stained with barbecue sauce.
You want a plate? Breach asked. His mouth was stuffed with meat, and the question was barely intelligible.
Yeah.
Breach waved. A waiter appeared immediately.
The deluxe combo and another pitcher of beer, Breach said. The waiter scurried away.
So? Breach asked.
Cardoni is out.
Good work. I was worried that puke would cut a deal with the DA if he went down. Breach ripped a chunk of meat off a long bone. A sloppy scarlet ring of sauce circled Breach's mouth. Now I want my money. Put Eugene and Ed Gordon on Cardoni. The first chance they get, I want him snatched.
Prochaska nodded. Breach handed Prochaska a fat rib. The enforcer started to protest, but Breach insisted.
Take it, Arty. I'll get one of yours when your order comes.
Breach wiped his face with a napkin, then reached for another rib.
I want Cardoni in good enough condition to chat, he told Prochaska between bites. No brain damage. Tell the two of ' em. If Cardoni is too fucked up to tell me where my money is, I'll take it out on them.
Chapter 24
There was a message from Herb Cross on the answering machine when Frank and Amanda arrived home from Cedar City. Frank shucked his jacket and tie, fixed himself a glass of scotch and dialed a number in Vermont.
What's up? Frank asked when he was connected to Cross's hotel room.
I may be on to something.
Oh?
Frank listened quietly while Herb told him what he had learned during his meeting with James Knoll.
It doesn't sound like there's anything we can use, Frank said when Herb was through. Evidence that Dr. Castle shot an abusive husband in self-defense when she was in her teens isn't going to be admissible to prove that she kidnapped and tortured people.
I' d agree if that was all I found. Gil Manning was insured for one hundred thousand dollars. When the police cleared Castle, the insurance company paid off. She used the money to pay her tuition at Dartmouth. In her senior year she married a wealthy classmate, and they moved to Denver after graduation. Eight months later Castle's husband was dead.
You're shitting me.
It was a one-car accident. He was heavily intoxicated. He was also heavily insured and he had a fat trust fund. Castle inherited the money from the trust fund and she received the insurance money.
Now that is interesting.
I phoned the dead husband's parents in Chicago. They swear that their son was never more than a social drinker. They pressed for an investigation, but the cops told them that they were satisfied that their son's death was an accident. Castle's in-laws think that Justine was a gold digger. They were opposed to the marriage.
Was there any evidence of foul play?
I haven't looked into the accident yet. Do you want me to go to Denver?
No, come home.
I think I' m on to something with this, Frank. I think we should pursue it.
That's not necessary. I won the motion to suppress. Cardoni is free and it's unlikely he'll be prosecuted.
What! How did that happen?
If you've got a few minutes, I'll tell you.
Chapter 25
Granite cherubs and gargoyles peered down on passersby from the ornate stone scrollwork that graced the fatade of the Stockman Building, a fourteen-story edifice that had been erected in the center of downtown Portland shortly after World War I. The law firm of Jaffe, Katz, Lehane and Brindisi leased the eighth floor. Frank Jaffe's spacious corner office was decorated with antiques. He sat behind a partner's desk that he had picked up for a song at an auction. Currier and Ives prints graced one wall, and a nineteenth-century oil of the Columbia Gorge, which Frank had discovered at another auction, hung across from him over a comfortable sofa. The only jarring note was the computer monitor that sat on the edge of Frank's desk.
Vincent Cardoni showed no interest in the dTcor of Frank's office. The physician's attention was riveted on his attorney, and he shifted anxiously as Frank explained Fred Scofield's latest legal maneuver.
So you're saying we have to go back to court?
Yes. Judge Brody has set the hearing for next Wednesday.
What kind of bullshit is this? We won, didn't we?
Scofield moved to reopen the motion to suppress. He has a new theory, inevitable discovery.
What's that mean?
