wasn't too bad today, so I spruced it up with gel and slapped on some
blush and eyebrow pencil. I caught a quick look in the mirror. At
five-eight and through with my twenties, I still have good skin and a
single-digit dress size. Not bad. By the time I was done, I had time
to catch my regular bus in to work.
Southwest Fifth and Sixth Avenues constitute Portland's bus mall,
carrying thousands of commuters from various communities within the
metropolitan area through downtown Portland. I hopped out at Sixth and
Main and walked the two blocks to the Multnomah County Courthouse on
Fourth, stopping on the way to fill my commuter's mug at Starbucks with
my daily double-tall nonfat latte.
I was running a few minutes shy of the time the District Attorney liked
us to be here. But I was well ahead of the county's newest jurors all
summoned to appear for orientation at 8:30 a.m. and the county's
various out-of-custody criminal defendants scheduled for morning court
appearances.
I'm not sure which way it cuts, but I have always found it odd that the
criminal justice system throws jurors and defendants side by side to
pass through the courthouse's metal detectors and to ride the
antiquated, stuffy elevators. In either event, I beat the crowd and
didn't have to push through the rotating throng that would be huddled
outside the doors of the courthouse for the remainder of the day trying
to suck down a final precious gasp of nicotine before returning to the
halls of justice.
I made my way through the staff entrance, took the elevator up to the
eighth floor, tapped the security code into the electronic keypad next
to the back entrance, and snuck into my office without the receptionist
noticing I was a little late.
My morning and what was supposed to be my lunch hour were consumed by
drug unit custodies the police reports detailing the cases against
people arrested the previous night. The Constitution affords arrestees
the right to a prompt determination of probable cause. The Supreme
Court seems to think forty-eight hours is prompt enough, meaning an
innocent person might have to sit in jail for a couple of days until a
judge gets around to checking whether there's any evidence against him.
In Oregon, we only get a day, so we have to review the custodies and
prepare probable cause showings before the 2 p.m. JC-2 docket. If we
don't get them arraigned by the afternoon docket, they get cut loose.
Around two o'clock, just as I was getting antsy about not having heard
anything about the warrant, my pager buzzed at my waist. It was the
MCT number.
Chuck picked up on the first ring.
'How much do you love me?' he asked.
'Only men I love right now are Vinnie and my daddy. But you can tell
me what you've got anyway if you want.'
'I'm not sure I believe you, but I guess it'll have to wait for another
day. Lesh signed off on the warrant last night, but like I thought, we
couldn't get the lab folks out here until this morning. You're not
gonna believe it. Not only did Derringer put a new coat of paint on
that P.O.S.' looks like he had it completely overhauled. New carpet,
new upholstery, the works.'
'How do we know it's new?'
'Stupid bastard must've forgotten to check his car when the work was
finished. We found the shop work order under the front passenger floor
mat. Got it done Sunday morning at some shop over on Eighty-second and
Division. Paid eight hundred dollars cash.'
'So we don't have any blood evidence,' I said.
'Nope. The tech guys had a lot of fun ripping out all of this
asshole's new stuff, but it doesn't look like any blood soaked through
to the cushions. But come on, Sam. What's a loser like Derringer
doing pouring that kind of cash into a thousand-dollar car? Didn't you
say the guy does temp work?'
'That's what his PO says. I didn't say it wasn't good. I just thought
the news would be better since you seemed so excited.'
'I'm not done yet. I was giving you the bad news first. The lab
called me this morning.' He paused to make me wait for it.
'DNA?'
'Damn, Sam. You're shooting a little high there.'
'So no DNA,' I said.
'No. What'd you expect? Kendra said the guy did it in her mouth.
Hardly ever get anything from that.'
'Unless it happens to fall on some intern's navy blue dress, right?'
'Yeah. Bill definitely caught a bad break on that one. Anyway, we
don't have any DNA, but there is good news. They found a latent print
on the strap of Kendra's purse. They matched six points to
Derringer.'
