The Perfect Alibi Read online

  Judge Redding looked at the defendant. “Do you have anything you wish to say to me regarding the question of bail, Mr. Hastings?”

  Blaine stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “I do, Your Honor. I am completely innocent. I did not rape Randi Stark. I’ve been set up. Stark accused me so she could sue me for money. Everything she said is a lie, and I suspect that the police pressured her to lie. If I wasn’t rich, this case would never have come to court. And if I’d had a decent lawyer, Stark’s lies would have been exposed to the jury. I shouldn’t go to prison for something I didn’t do.”

  Hastings dropped into his seat and stared defiantly at the judge. Doug had to exercise great restraint to keep from edging away from his client.

  Judge Redding tapped the pen she’d been holding on the dais for a moment before addressing Hastings. “I was uncertain about whether to let you continue on bail before you spoke. Then, in the space of a few minutes, you blamed your victim, the police, and your lawyer for your situation—never once accepting the blame for your actions. If you had shown one scintilla of remorse or one iota of compassion for your victim, I might have had some compassion for you. But you have convinced me to revoke your bail.” The judge turned to the courtroom deputies. “Please see that Mr. Hastings is booked into the jail.”

  Randi Stark and her mother were sitting in the spectator section with Robin Lockwood.

  Hastings leaped up and pointed at Randi. “You’ll regret this, you lying bitch.”

  Maxine Stark leaped to her feet and balled her fist. “Don’t you dare threaten my Randi, you animal.”

  The guards moved in. Robin took Randi’s hand and stared fearlessly at Hastings.

  “What are you looking at, cunt?” Hastings screamed at Robin.

  “Not much,” Robin replied evenly as the guards restrained Hastings.

  “Take this piece of garbage out of here,” Kellerman ordered the guards, acting bravely now that the prisoner couldn’t hurt him.

  “I’ll settle with you, too,” Hastings threatened as the guards led Blaine away.

  Judge Redding shook her head. “It looks like I made the right decision. Court is adjourned.”

  * * *

  As soon as court recessed, Carrie Anders walked up to Randi. “I’m proud of you. It took a lot of guts to stand up to Hastings.”

  “Thank you,” Randi said. “I never really believed Blaine would get convicted.”

  “Well, he has been, and he’s going to pay for what he did to you for a long time.”

  “You bet he’s going to pay,” Randi’s mother said.

  “You’ve raised a very brave young lady, Mrs. Stark,” Carrie said.

  While Carrie talked to Randi and her mother, Robin followed Rex Kellerman into the hall.

  “Congratulations, Rex. You did a terrific job.”

  “You’ve got the civil suit, right?”

  “I do.”

  “We should split the attorney fee,” Kellerman said with a smile. “After all, I did your work for you.”

  Robin returned the smile. “Can I talk to you about the Henderson case when you’re through talking to the reporters?” she asked.

  “Does he want to plead?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to you about dismissing. My investigation shows he was acting in self-defense. Henderson should never have been indicted.”

  “Hey, Robin, he killed a cop.”

  “An off-duty, drunk cop in civilian clothes who attacked him from behind. You’ve seen our reports.”

  “And you’ve seen ours. I don’t deal with cop killers. And now, if you’ll excuse me, the press awaits.”

  Robin watched Kellerman walk away. She’d hoped he would be reasonable, but she knew she was being naïve. Robin sighed. It looked like Henderson was going to trial, and she wasn’t happy about that, even though she was certain she would win. Going to trial with Rex Kellerman was one of Robin’s least favorite things. He was obnoxious and unethical, and she’d have to watch her back every second she was in court with him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As soon as Judge Redding left the bench, Doug pushed his papers into his attaché case and started to flee the courtroom, but Blaine Hastings Sr. barred his way.

  “You were pathetic, Armstrong. A first-year law student could have done a more competent job.”

  “I’m sorry you’re upset, but—”

  “Upset! You bet I’m upset. That slut railroaded my boy, and you didn’t do a thing to stop her.”

  “There are some good points for an appeal,” Armstrong said, anxious to get away.

  “You think we’re going to let you handle Blaine’s appeal after the piss-poor job you just did? You’re fired.”

  “You have to do what you think is best,” Armstrong said before hurrying out of the courtroom. Several reporters waylaid him, but he fended off their questions with a repeated “No comment.” Then he hurried down the steps to the lobby, too anxious to get away from the Hastings to wait for the elevator.

  * * *

  Frank Nylander, Armstrong’s partner, was talking to their receptionist when Doug walked into the waiting room. Nylander was a head taller than his partner. Though he was ten years older, his trim figure and full head of black hair made him look as if they were the same age. Nylander turned when he heard the door open. Doug looked disheveled and unhappy. His tie was askew and his white shirt was rumpled and sweat stained.

  “I take it that things did not go well,” Nylander said.

  “They went as badly as they could possibly go.”

  “As you predicted.”

  “I didn’t predict that Hastings would go ballistic in court.” Armstrong shook his head. “He made a complete ass of himself, and Judge Redding revoked his bail.”

  Nylander shrugged. “As ye sow so shall ye reap.”

  “The only good news is that Blaine Hastings is not my problem anymore. His father fired me.”

  “Is that why you look upset?”

  “No. Actually, I’ve never been so glad to be fired. Hastings Senior and Junior were some of the most unpleasant clients I’ve ever represented.”

  “Then what’s got you in a lather?” Nylander asked.

  “Junior threatened me during the trial.”

  “You’re not worried he’ll get out, are you?”

  “No. There are some arguments that can be made in an appeal, but I don’t see them winning.”

  “Then relax. Hastings is locked up, and he’ll have a lot more to worry about than getting revenge on you. A pretty boy like that in prison. I’ve heard that cons don’t like child molesters and rapists.”

  “Anything he gets he deserves,” Armstrong agreed.

  Nylander studied his friend. “You look like shit, Doug. Slap some water on your face, comb what’s left of your hair, and I’ll take you out for a stiff drink.”

  “I should get home to Marsha.”

  “She’ll be a lot happier to see you if you’re not in a state. Come on. That’s what friends and law partners are for.”

  Armstrong hesitated. Then he smiled. “You are a friend, Frank, a good friend. Let me call Marsha and get myself together. I can definitely use that drink.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Ivar Gorski sat in the front seat of his rental car and took a sip from his thermos. Just a sip, because he did not want to have to relieve himself, thus creating the possibility that he would miss his subject.

  Ivar was whip-thin with wiry muscles kept hard by hours in a Manhattan dojo. He began his study of the martial arts in the Ukraine, where he had served in the army, and he had continued his training after emigrating to the United States, where his job occasionally required violence.

  Ivar focused his dark, deep-set eyes on a house halfway down the street. Those eyes were on either side of a narrow nose that bent like a hawk’s beak. Ivar’s wide, flat forehead, close-cropped blond hair, high cheekbones, and pale skin made his head look vaguely like a skull.

  The door to the house opened
and Ivar sat up. A woman in jeans and a Windbreaker pushed Leonard Voss’s wheelchair outside before locking the door. Voss’s head canted to one side and he slumped in the chair: a stroke victim, just as it said in the medical report Norcross Pharmaceuticals had received.

  Ivar wrote down his observations in a notebook. He had been following Voss for a week, and he’d seen nothing to indicate that Voss was faking, which was bad news for his employer.

  The woman pushing the wheelchair was Rita, Voss’s wife. She opened the door of their van and helped her husband inside. They were probably on their way to a doctor’s appointment. Mrs. Voss started to walk to the driver’s door. Then she stopped and looked down the street at Ivar. After a moment’s hesitation, she started walking toward his car. Ivar turned the car away from the Voss’s van and sped away. He thought he’d been careful, but he’d been spotted. It didn’t really matter. He had all the information he needed, but his pride as a professional was wounded.

  * * *

  Rita Voss got her husband in the van. Then she got in the driver’s seat and locked the doors. She thought she had seen the red Honda Accord following them to two of Leonard’s hospital appointments. Now that the driver had driven off so quickly, she was certain that Norcross was having Leonard followed.

  Rita hesitated. Was she being paranoid? No, she was sure that someone was following them. She pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

  “It’s not an emergency, but I think my husband is being followed.”

  “Are you in immediate danger?”

  “No. The … the person drove away.”

  “Nine-one-one is for emergencies, but if you’ll hold on for a moment, I’ll give you the number for the nearest police station and you can ask how you can file a complaint.”

  Rita pulled a pen out of her pocket and wrote down the number. She felt a little foolish, but she wouldn’t put anything past Norcross. She decided to drive Leonard to his appointment and call the police while he was being examined.

  PART TWO

  THE HENDERSON CASE

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The door to the coffee shop opened, and Robin looked up from the case she’d been reading. Jeff Hodges paused in the doorway. When Robin saw Jeff, she waved.

  Jeff limped over to her table and uncapped the latte she’d ordered for him. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “Great. I found a case from Florida that’s on point concerning that jury instruction Kellerman wants.”

  “Kellerman is grasping at straws,” Jeff said as he sat down.

  “Remember what Regina says,” Robin warned. “No case is over until it’s over.”

  Jeff smiled. “Speaking of Regina, we got a postcard from Justice Cloud. They’re in Venice, and he says Regina is having the time of her life.”

  “I’m so glad,” Robin said, but she didn’t look happy.

  “Hey, cheer up. It’s a beautiful thing they’re doing.”

  “I know. It’s just so sad.”

  “And out of anyone’s control.”

  “I guess,” Robin sighed.

  “Think about how happy Regina must be and how happy you’re going to be when you kick Kellerman’s ass.”

  Robin smiled. “There is that. And no one deserves it more.”

  “Are you referring to your mentor or Mr. Unethical?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Jeff said as he took a sip of the latte. “Now, let’s head to court.”

  * * *

  Rex Kellerman’s case was a mess. The testimony of the police officers and lab techs who’d responded to the crime scene had not made a dent in Everett Henderson’s claim of self-defense. Under cross-examination, the three men who’d been drinking with Greg Schaefer admitted that they and the dead off-duty policeman were heavily intoxicated. They also admitted that they never saw how the fight started and came around the bar only when Henderson and Schaefer were squaring off.

  Robin had called her client to the stand—a risky move given Henderson’s lengthy criminal record. But the defendant had been great. Henderson’s girlfriend and drinking companions all swore that Henderson had been attacked from behind by the dead man. The bottle Schaefer used in the fight had been taken into evidence, and Robin was able to show it to the jury. The jagged edges were intimidating, and Henderson had shown the jurors the stitches in his skull. Some of them had grimaced when they saw photographs of the gaping, bleeding head wound before the gash had been stitched up.

  On Wednesday afternoon, the defense rested its case, and the judge asked the prosecutor if he had any rebuttal witnesses. Kellerman had looked the judge in the eye and swore that he did not.

  When Robin walked into Judge Harold Wright’s courtroom on Thursday morning, the bailiff told her that she was wanted in chambers. Jeff and Robin found the judge in shirtsleeves. He did not look happy.

  Kellerman was leaning back in a chair. When he saw Robin, he turned his head so the judge couldn’t see him and smirked.

  “Have a seat,” the judge said.

  “What’s up?” Robin asked.

  “We have a situation,” Judge Wright replied. “Mr. Kellerman wants to put on a rebuttal witness.”

  “What witness?” Robin asked. “He’s rested.”

  “A witness my investigator located last night,” Kellerman said.

  “What’s he going to say?” Robin asked.

  “Willis Goins will testify that he was in jail with the defendant. During a recreation period, Mr. Henderson confided that he had made up his claim of self-defense and had bribed his buddies to back him up.”

  “I assume Mr. Goins is a solid citizen who is testifying out of the goodness of his heart,” Robin said, barely able to keep her anger in check.

  “I haven’t made him any promises,” Kellerman said.

  “Just out of curiosity, what’s this paragon of virtue charged with?”

  “Burglary and possession of heroin.”

  “I see. Can I assume that no one else heard this conversation?”

  “It was just the two of them.”

  Robin turned to the judge. “The legal term for this is ‘bullshit.’ The Oregon discovery rules were passed to prevent this kind of trial by ambush. They’re very clear. Mr. Goins wasn’t on Mr. Kellerman’s witness list, he’s rested, and I move for an order barring Goins from testifying.”

  Kellerman spread his hands and tried to look angelic. “I would have notified counsel, but I didn’t learn about the witness until after court recessed, and I didn’t finish debriefing him until after ten last night.”

  “I gotta tell you, Rex, I’m leaning toward granting Robin’s motion. This is awfully late in the game to spring this on the defense.”

  Kellerman handed a copy of a case to Robin and the judge. “I’m within my rights to put on a witness if I had no knowledge of the witness when the defense rested. Rocky Stiller, my investigator, got a call from the jail at five thirty Wednesday night and went right over to interview Goins. I’d never heard of him until Rocky called me at home late last night.”

  Judge Wright leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Robin waited, her heart beating fast.

  Wright opened his eyes. “I’m going to send the jury home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning with this issue briefed. That’s all.”

  Kellerman walked out and Robin followed.

  “This is a chickenshit move, Rex.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. Aren’t we trying to discover the truth here?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Kellerman grinned. “See you tomorrow.”

  Robin’s hands curled into fists, and Jeff put a restraining hand on her arm.

  “He’s not worth it.”

  “I don’t know, Jeff. It might be a fair trade if I were disbarred for breaking Kellerman’s nose.”

  “Yeah, well, wait until tomorrow. I have an idea. I’ll let you know if it pans
out.”

  * * *

  Robin finished briefing the discovery issue at four thirty, then headed for McGill’s to blow off steam. Julie Tapanoe, a young MMA fighter with a four-and-two record, was working the heavy bag when Robin walked in. Julie waved Robin over and asked her if she wanted to spar. Robin was still fuming when they started, and she dropped Tapanoe with a vicious kick to the head a few seconds into the sparring session. Barry McGill was watching, and he walked over when Robin landed another brutal shot soon after Tapanoe got up.

  “Time!” he shouted.

  Robin spun toward him.

  “What’s going on, Lockwood?”

  “We’re sparring,” Robin snapped.

  “Julie is, but you’re not. It looks like you’re trying to take her head off.”

  Robin started to argue. Then she dropped her hands to her sides and looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Julie. I had a rough day in court. There’s this prick of a DA who’s trying to sandbag me by calling a jailhouse snitch named Goins. I’m furious with the DA, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t,” McGill said. “Now, get your shit together.”

  Robin restrained herself during the rest of the workout. As she was walking to the locker room to shower and change, McGill intercepted her.

  “The snitch, is his name Willis Goins?” McGill asked.

  Robin looked surprised. “Yeah, why?”

  “Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow morning at eight.”

  * * *

  Robin was exhausted from her workout and still depressed and angry because of Kellerman’s slimy trick. She didn’t feel like eating out, so she stopped at a supermarket and bought a salad for dinner. Robin ate her salad out of its plastic container without really tasting it while she watched the news on TV. She had just finished eating when her phone rang.