“Solicitor’s office,” he answered. “Ruiz here.”
“Hey there. I’m about to swing by, if it’s still a good time, and wanted to check if I could bring you a coffee. I always hated the coffee we had at the office back in Charleston.”
He laughed. “Yeah, nobody up here appears to have any idea how to make a good cup, either.”
“We got other priorities, I suppose. What do you want?”
“A latte, I guess, if you don’t mind.”
After we got off the phone, I took another look at the notes I’d made for the meeting. My goal was to find out what I could about the evidence Ruiz had and what he thought about the strength of his case. The probable cause hearing was coming up, so it was a logical time to start feeling each other out for maybe reducing the charges or doing a plea deal. If he offered one, I would tell him I’d run it past my client.
As I was getting up to leave, Roy popped his head in the door. “Morning, Leland. You got a second?”
“Just barely,” I said. “I got an appointment, but a couple minutes won’t kill me.”
He held out a big manila envelope. “I hate to ask,” he said, “but is there any way you could run this up toward Charleston for me today? Not into the city, just one of the gated communities on the islands. I got so much going on, and then I thought, this might be a nice opportunity for you to connect with this client.”
“Who’s the client?” I had no desire to drive anywhere, but apart from meeting with Ruiz, my schedule was clear. Ample free time was a side effect of my lack of business development skills.
“Collin Porter. The major investor in Blue Seas. Henry’s buying two more yachts, and we got some papers for Porter to look over and sign.”
“Okay, will do.” I took the envelope.
“Great. Uh, try and be a little more enthusiastic, maybe?” He was smiling, like he was teasing me, but I could tell he was bothered. “I’m trying to help you build your future here. Mr. Porter’s an important man, and I want him to like you.”
“Oh, thanks much,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’m just distracted. Lot going on.”
“That murder case?”
I nodded. I wished I hadn’t opened the door to talking about that.
He sighed like he was about to lecture someone young and foolish. “Leland, I’m sorry to tell you, but that case is a dog. You’ll never hear me say that outside this office, of course. I been telling people you’re trying to make a name for yourself. Take on something big to show you can do a lot more than get somebody out of a DUI.”
“Well, thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that. Uh, who’s been asking?”
“Just about everybody. On top of it being murder, the Wartons are notorious. You know how it is.”
“I do,” I said, in my poker voice. I had my views on what it said about a man’s intelligence to mindlessly go along with small-town prejudice, but he didn’t need to know them.
“Okay then,” he said. “Anyway, I’ll have Laura text you Porter’s address and the times he’s available today. Just try not to be too distracted when you’re there.”
Ruiz’s office was on the second floor of the courthouse. He was the same rank I’d been, assistant solicitor, so it was nothing fancy, just the usual hand-me-down cherry-veneer desk and wall of legal books that nobody ever read. He’d tossed his necktie on the windowsill and undone the first button of his shirt. I took that as a good sign. It was the opposite of aggressive.
When we’d got through the niceties and about half of our coffees, I leaned back, crossed my left ankle on my right knee and said, in an apologetic tone, “So, I hope you’ll forgive me on this, but I’m still not getting why the office charged this as murder.” I was careful not to say you charged it. Blame made folks defensive, and I knew it was his boss’s decision anyway. “I mean, we got a teenage boy with no history of anything like this, and no evidence placing him on the boat, so…”
He was shaking his head a little, side to side, like he could see my point but there was more to it. I sensed from his reaction that I was probably right about the boat: they didn’t have any evidence Jackson had been on it that night.
“Well,” he said, “we do have a police detective who placed him at the marina. And said he was carrying something that could be used as a weapon.”
“Oh, I hear you,” I said. “I mean, that ain’t good for a defendant. But can you really look at it in a vacuum? I mean, without considering the defendant’s record or the fact that folks can make an honest mistake about what they’ve seen? Or who?”
“Well, no,” he said. “But when you got someone who had a fight with the victim earlier that evening, and he’s walking down to where the victim is with some kind of blunt-force instrument in his hands, I got no basis to call that manslaughter.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nodded, taking that in. I would’ve seen it the same way if I were sitting on his side of the desk. Going to find somebody at night, for no good reason, with a weapon in your hand, certainly looked like malice aforethought. Unless the coroner’s report clearly pointed one way or the other, it was all going to come down to Detective Blount’s testimony.
“I mean,” he said, “you’ve been in my shoes before. What
