let us in.
Padilla’s body was found in the pavilion, so that is where we go. There is a chalk outline where the body had been. I wonder whose job it is to draw that, and if they give a class in it at the Police Academy. If I were a cop, that would be the assignment I’d go after. I’d even be willing to start as an assistant chalker and work my way up.
“She was strangled?” Laurie asks.
I nod. “From behind.”
“She wasn’t killed here.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
She points to some scrape marks which lead to the area where the body was. “She was dragged . . . from that door . . . probably wrapped in a sack. If she was alive, he wouldn’t have bothered dragging her this far . . . he would have killed her closer to the door. There’s also no blood; if her hands were cut off here, even postmortem, there would be some blood.”
There’s something about the way she re-creates what happened here that both chills me and leaves me very sad. No one deserves to be dragged in a sack to be dumped on a cold floor. If there is a way to end a life, this sure ain’t it.
We’re quiet on the way to the hospital, each of us affected by what we have just seen. Laurie is frustrated; she knows this maniac has struck four times and will keep going until he’s caught. She wants to be involved in tracking him down, rather than simply hanging out with the lawyer for the newspaper that is reporting the story.
“Why would he pick a guy like Cummings?” I ask.
“Certainly, he wants attention, a forum to speak to the world without exposing himself to danger. But why Cummings? It’s hard to say. Isn’t he a law-and-order, tough-on-crime guy? Maybe that’s why the killer picked him. It’s another way to thumb his nose at authority. Which also may be why he picked Linda Padilla.”
“I’m not so sure,” I say. “There doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the victims. My guess is they were chosen at random. Padilla may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
We arrive at the hospital and walk through the lobby toward the elevators. Laurie sees the cafeteria down the hall. “I just want to get a cup of coffee first,” she says.
“More coffee?” I ask. “Doesn’t anybody drink tea anymore? What the hell is this society coming to?”
“Investments not going well?” she asks, but since she knows the answer, she doesn’t wait to hear it, and heads to the cafeteria.
When we finally get to Cummings’s room, he is sitting in a chair, fully dressed and talking to Vince. I introduce him to Laurie, and then Vince gives Laurie a big hug and wide smile. For some reason, Laurie brings out gracious behavior in human beings otherwise incapable of it.
Cummings says, with obvious frustration, “So, defense attorney, you specialize in getting clients out of confinement? How about getting me out of here?”
“What’s the problem?” I ask, irritated by his tone.
“Hospital regulation bullshit,” says Vince. “They have to do all kinds of paperwork before a patient can be released.”
“That’s nice for them, but they have five minutes. I have work to do.” Cummings looks at his watch, as if that will make his threat more credible.
“Relax, Daniel,” says Vince. “Your story for tomorrow is written already.”
Cummings’s face shows no sign of relaxing, and he opens the door, calling out to a nurse as she walks by the room. “Nurse, we need to get out of here.”
The nurse answers nervously, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cummings, I’m sure they’ll be here momentarily.”
She closes the door and doesn’t hear him ask, “Who’s ‘they’?”
Cummings doesn’t go back to his chair and instead paces the room. He turns to Laurie and me. “Are they making any progress on the murders? I’m cut off from the damn world in here.”
As I’m about to tell him that I have no idea, the door opens and Captain Millen walks in, flanked by five officers. They seem to come in a little too quickly, as if rushed, but that is not the most surprising thing about their entry. The most surprising thing is that they are holding guns.
“What the . . . ?” Cummings starts.
“Turn around! Hands against the wall!” Millen barks as his officers move toward Cummings.
Vince says something-I can’t make out what-and moves toward Cummings. Vince is pushed out of the way by the officers, and Laurie grabs hold of him, keeping him out of the fray.
“Are you crazy?” asks Cummings. “What the hell . . . ?”
Millen pays no attention, screaming even louder. “Now! Against the wall!”
Cummings still doesn’t react, and is roughly turned around, pushed against the wall, and his hands are cuffed behind his back.
“Daniel Cummings,” Millen begins, “I am placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”
He completes the
“For right now it’s just the murder of Linda Padilla. But my guess is, there will be others.”
He signals for his officers to take Cummings out of the room, and they do so immediately. As Cummings leaves, I say, “Do not say a word to anyone until I am in your presence.” Cummings doesn’t respond; the shock of all this is affecting his mind’s ability to process.
“Do you understand?” I ask. “Not one word.”
He finally nods slowly, then is led away.
As Millen follows them, he turns to me. “Well, lawyer, looks like you got yourself something to do.”
• • • • •
I LOOK OUT THE WINDOW and see a large group of reporters and three television trucks in front of the hospital. Millen obviously leaked the word in advance so as to take full publicity advantage of the arrest.
“Let’s go,” I say. “They’ll be taking him down to County.” It’s the place where the newly arrested are taken for booking and processing.
Laurie starts for the door, holding Vince by the arm and leading him along. Vince looks stricken, even more so than Cummings had, and for the first time in my memory he seems speechless.
Our car ride down to County is relatively quiet. The radio is reporting the arrest, and Millen and the DA are already planning a press conference to gloat. I attempt to question Vince, to see if he had any inkling of what could be behind this, but all he can say is, “There’s no way . . . just no way.”
We arrive at County and become fresh fodder for the waiting press. I am barraged with questions, but I refuse all comment, saying that I am waiting to speak with my client. I really have no idea what the facts are, and I don’t want to get caught saying something that I will have to retract later. Wherever this is going, there will be a media spotlight on it the entire time, and we’ll have to play the public relations game well.
Laurie, Vince, and I hang out in the waiting area while Cummings is booked, even though I’ll be the only one allowed in to meet with him. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Vince this upset, and I can tell Laurie is noticing this as well.
Except for the time spent waiting for a deliberating jury to return a verdict, these might be the most anxious moments a lawyer can have. The authorities feel they have the evidence to convict the accused, yet as his lawyer, I have absolutely no idea what that evidence is, or even what the facts of the case are.
This situation is even more troubling than most. With all the media attention, the district attorney and police would be particularly loath to make a mistake. They have been under tremendous pressure, but it would increase tenfold if they arrested a suspect and then released him.
They also must know that if they have the wrong man, then the world will realize it as soon as another murder is committed. They would not risk looking so foolish unless they were positive they were right.
I’m not at all sure I even want to take on this case. Cummings might well be guilty, and I don’t really have any compelling need for a serial killer as a client. Besides, I wasn’t even that crazy about him when I thought he
