Delroy Lund murdered Clark McCall.
Scott’s adrenaline pump kicked in like an overdrive. His mind started working fast. The murderer was sitting in the witness chair ten feet away, but Scott had nothing to tie this man to that crime. Delroy Lund was an experienced lawman; he had left no incriminating evidence at the crime scene. Scott’s only hope was to get Delroy to confess on the stand, to break down and blurt out the truth, to tell the world that he had murdered Clark McCall. A Perry Mason moment. A moment lawyers dream of. A moment that happens only on TV and in the movies.
Scott walked over to the witness stand and placed the pad and pen in front of Delroy.
“Mr. Lund, would you please sign your name?”
Delroy shrugged, picked up the pen with his right hand, and signed his name.
“You’re right-handed, Mr. Lund.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“So the FBI’s forensic expert testified that the person who shot Clark McCall was right-handed. You’re right- handed, the murderer was right-handed. The murder occurred in Dallas on June fifth, you were in Dallas on June fifth.”
“Ninety percent of the people in this room are right-handed. And more than that were in Dallas on June fifth.”
“Yes, but none of them had a reason to kill Clark McCall, did they?”
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“I’ll ask you: Did you kill Clark McCall?”
The judge was studying the witness when Ray Burns stood to object. “Your Honor-”
“Sit, Mr. Burns,” the judge said without removing his gaze from Delroy. Ray sat. “Answer the question, Mr. Lund.”
Delroy said, “No, I didn’t kill Clark. Why would I want him dead? I work for his dad.”
“Who wants to be president.”
“So?”
“So if it became known that his son used cocaine and engaged prostitutes and maybe even raped a few girls, Senator McCall’s chances of getting into the White House would be about as good as the defendant’s, isn’t that true?”
Delroy snorted. “Give me a fuckin’ break.”
The judge: “Mr. Lund, watch your language.”
Delroy said, “Hell, if having a screwup for a kid was a motive for murder, half the politicians in D.C. would’ve already killed their kids. I don’t know nothing about rapes, but you think Clark was the only politician’s kid out drinking and doing drugs and other stuff their daddies want to keep quiet? The town’s full of ’em, rich kids who had life handed to them on a silver platter then shit on it.”
“Mr. Lund, why did you decide to get laid in Dallas on June fifth?”
Delroy shrugged. “Most beautiful women in the world are in Dallas.”
“That may be true, but you work for Senator McCall in Washington. Certainly you could have found an acceptable prostitute in the nation’s capital so you could remain in town, especially since two days later, on June seventh, the senator was scheduled to announce his campaign for the presidency. But instead of staying in D.C., you came to Dallas on June fifth to get laid, on the same day Clark came to Dallas? Mr. Lund, did you come specifically to kill Clark?”
Delroy sighed. “I said, I didn’t kill Clark.”
“Then why did you come to Dallas? Why did you leave Washington two days before Senator McCall’s big day? Why did you fly down to Dallas to pick up a prostitute instead of staying in Washington and protecting the senator-”
It hit Scott.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“It’s just that simple, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t come here to kill Clark. You came to Dallas to protect Senator McCall.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Mr. Lund, what usually happened when Clark was in Dallas?”
“I give, what?”
“He got in trouble. He always came home to get into trouble. Fact is, Clark was smart enough to get in trouble only in Dallas, because here his daddy could buy his way out of anything. The McCall name means something in Dallas. The McCall money can buy anything in Dallas-even seven rape victims.”
“Like I said, I don’t know anything about that.”
“And the last thing Senator McCall needed right before he announced for the presidency was Clark getting arrested, and not just for drinking or drugs-like you said, that’s common. But getting charged with rape, that’s not so common, is it? Particularly for the son of the next president. The press would go into a feeding frenzy, maybe even dredge up the other girls. The senator had spent millions to keep Clark’s past hidden so it wouldn’t ruin his political future. And now the presidency was his, he had a commanding lead in the polls, his dream was about to come true…and what was the only thing that could lose the White House for him before he had even won it? A rapist for a son. That would do it. That would destroy Senator McCall’s dream, wouldn’t it?”
Scott pointed back at the senator in the spectator section.
“When Senator McCall learned that Clark was coming to Dallas right before his big announcement, he sent you here to follow Clark, to keep him out of trouble.”
Scott held up another document from Carl’s envelope.
“Clark had booked a return flight to Washington on June sixth at three-twenty-one P.M. so he would be back for his father’s campaign kickoff. The senator knew that if Clark was flying to Dallas just for a Saturday night, that meant only one thing: his demons were calling again and he was answering. He was coming home to get drunk and stoned and pick up a girl. And the senator knew what usually happened when Clark’s dark side took over-exactly what he couldn’t let happen. He couldn’t wake up Sunday morning and read that his son had been arrested for beating and raping another girl in Dallas. So he sent you to Dallas to make sure that didn’t happen. Your job was to wet-nurse Clark, to be his guardian angel, to keep him out of trouble and out of the press. You came to Dallas to protect Senator McCall from his own son.”
Delroy’s eyes again looked past Scott to McCall. Scott turned to McCall as well, and what he saw surprised him. In the senator’s eyes and on the senator’s face Scott saw that he had it exactly wrong. He turned back to Delroy.
“The senator didn’t send you, did he? You freelanced this one. You ran this operation without his approval. Why? Why didn’t you tell the senator? Did you think it best to keep him out of the loop? Did you just not want to bother him right before his big day?” Scott shook his head. “Either way, you came here to make sure Clark didn’t screw things up for his father. That’s why you came to Dallas on Saturday, June the fifth, isn’t it, Mr. Lund?”
“No.”
“You flew to Dallas, you rented a car, you followed Clark that night, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“You followed him down to Harry Hines where the prostitutes hang out, didn’t you?”
“No.”
“And there you watched Clark pull his Mercedes over to two black girls, one wearing a red wig, the other a blonde wig, isn’t that right?”
“No.”
“The girl in the blonde wig got into Clark’s car, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
“That girl was the defendant, wasn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you just refer to the defendant as ‘Blondie’?”
“I…”
“Her hair isn’t blonde, Mr. Lund, it’s brown. She hasn’t worn her blonde wig since that night. She’s been in
