Turning Angel

”Okay, but call me back.“

”I will.“ I pocket my phone and start jogging up the hill toward my car. I need to pack Sonny’s things and stash them in my floor safe as soon as possible.

Then I need to talk to Quentin Avery.

Chapter 30

For the first time since I met Quentin Avery, his face is taut with anxiety. The lawyer is sitting across from me in the main room of his penthouse suite at the Eola, his artificial foot resting on the floor, the bare stump of his lower leg crossed over his left knee.

”This is fast,“ Quentin ruminates, ”really fast. You say Shad hand-carried the indictment over to the circuit clerk?“

”That’s what Caitlin told me.“ I spoke to Caitlin by phone again on my way from my house to the Eola, and she filled me in on the most recent developments of the case. ”There are two circuit judges in this town. The system ensures randomness by simple rotation, assigning each judge every other case that’s filed. The problem is, every lawyer in town knows that. If a lawyer wants a particular judge for a case, he carries three cases to the clerk’s office. The first case he files is a stalking horse. If that case is assigned to the judge he doesn’t want, the lawyer immediately files the case he wants to steer, and it goes to the judge he does want. But if the stalking horse goes to the judge that the lawyer does want, he has to file all three cases to steer the one he cares about to the right judge.“

”The true bills returned by a grand jury are normally filed as a group,“ Quentin says. ”But that’s more a matter of convenience than anything.“

”If Shad carried Drew’s indictment over personally, he carried two other cases with him. You can bet your good foot that he’s already steered Drew’s case to Judge Arthel Minor.“

”Then you can bet your ass that Arthel will schedule Drew’s case in the docket for the current term. The only question is how soon will it be.“

”Four weeks or less,“ I reckon. ”And now that Mayor Jones has stepped down, I look for it sooner rather than later.“

”Any sooner than two weeks,“ says Quentin, ”and even the man in the street will know Drew’s trial has nothing to do with justice.“

”I’m not sure Shad’s worried about that. You said it yourself, his concern is the special election. That means making good on his promise to make the system equal, i.e., to nail a rich white man. That’s what will get Shad a unified black vote. I expect Judge Minor to move as fast as legally possible.“

Quentin nods slowly. ”Why is the white sheriff lined up with Shad and Judge Minor? Did Shad promise him the black vote in the next election?“

”I don’t think Shad can guarantee that. I’m not sure what Billy Byrd hopes to get out of this, but it’s something. You can bank on that.“

”We should try to find out. It might give us an advantage.“

”I will.“

”When will we know about the trial date?“

”Caitlin has reporters at the circuit clerk’s office and Judge Minor’s chambers. If Arthel sets a trial date today, we’ll know about it.“

A trace of a smile touches Quentin’s lips. ”Kind of handy having the publisher of the newspaper on your side, isn’t it?“

”It’s a two-edged sword.“

He nods thoughtfully. ”What the hell is Shad thinking? I know he has a hard-on to indict Dr. Elliott, but it’s not enough for him to want it bad. Something happened today that persuaded the grand jury to indict.“

”The DNA must be back,“ I conclude. ”That’s the only explanation.“

Quentin’s eyes narrow, and then he nods slowly. ”If you pay a hefty rush fee, a private lab with a good sample can do the analysis in seventy-two hours.“

”You’re right.“

”Would Shad pay for that?“

”Hell, yes. And the timing just works.“

”That’s it, then,“ says Quentin. ”One of the samples matched Dr. Elliott, and that convinced the grand jury to indict.“

”I think there’s more. If Shad paid a private lab for a rush job, he would have had both samples analyzed, the vaginal and the rectal.“ I close my eyes and try not to focus on any particular line of reasoning. ”That means he’s got the data on our mystery man as well. The vaginal sample.“

”What could Shad learn from that?“ Quentin asks. ”They couldn’t ID that sperm without someone to compare it to. Do you think it matched the Sayers boy? Or the fishermen maybe?“

A small epiphany sends a tingle along my forearms. I open my eyes. ”No. What Shad could learn from that second semen sample is that our mystery man wasn’t black. Ergo, that semen was not deposited by Cyrus White.“

”Son of a bitch,“ Quentin breathes. ”Son of a bitch! “

”There goes your reasonable doubt.“ I take a sip of coffee from the room service tray on the table between us.

Quentin closes his eyes and rubs the stump of his ankle. ”Maybe…but maybe not.“

”Quentin, yesterday you told me DNA was subtle science. I know juries can get bored with technical testimony. But if I’m right, this science is pretty simple and compelling. A black man didn’t rape Kate Townsend. That’s a message that black jury members will love to hear. And the location of the crime scene away from Brightside Manor already screwed your chance to paint a scenario in which Kate was murdered there by Cyrus.“

”Goddamn it,“ Quentin mutters. ”What do we have that links Kate Townsend to Cyrus?“

”I can testify that Sonny Cross told me he saw her visit Cyrus at Brightside Manor while he was conducting surveillance operations.“

”That’s hearsay, unless you have videotape.“

”We may have the actual surveillance tape in our possession, but I’m not sure yet. I haven’t had time to go through the tapes.“

”That’s your first priority. Do we have anything else?“

An image of Kate’s journal rises in my mind, but I’m still not prepared to reveal its existence. ”Not at this time.“ I stand and walk over to the window. ”Given what we’ve deduced here, does the second semen sample still look like reasonable doubt to you?“

”Shad’s case is still circumstantial,“ Quentin says firmly. ”Even Dr. Elliott’s semen in the girl’s rectum doesn’t place him at the crime scene.“

”But his car parked in that vacant lot damn near does. Shad’s case may be circumstantial, but it just might be strong enough for a conviction. I would have gone to court with it in Houston.“

Quentin takes a sip of coffee and makes a face. ”There are only two possibilities for disaster. One, the police find physical evidence that links Dr. Elliott to the crime scene. Two, they find out that Dr. Elliott had the victim scoring dope for his wife.“

”Which brings up an even thornier question. Do you plan to put Drew on the stand?“

Quentin closes his eyes like a man experiencing deep internal pain.

”If they tie him to that crime scene, and he hasn’t admitted that he was there, the jury won’t believe a thing he says after that.“

”That’s a chance I’m going to have to take,“ says Quentin. ”I’m not putting him on the stand to tell the jury he found that girl dead and didn’t report it to anybody.“

”Have you discussed this with Drew?“