A Killer's Kiss by William Lashner Read Free Book Online

OfficerPritzker. “The lawyer had his arm around his shoulders, giving him orders. I saw it.”
    “I was advising a young man who is seeking a career in the law,” I said.
    “I bet that’s what you were doing,” said the judge. “And doing it right smack in the view of the witness. Okay, this is what we’re going to do. Ms. Johnstone, I want you to take custody of both these men right now and figure out who is who. Match fingerprints if you have to. How long will that take?”
    “Give us an hour, Your Honor.”
    “Fine.” He checked his watch. “Come back in an hour. If the man in the suit is the defendant, Mr. Carl, there will be hell to pay, both in the sentencing of your client and for you personally after I hold you in contempt and make my report to the bar association.”
    “That sounds a little harsh, Judge.”
    “Be glad it’s not the old days, Mr. Carl, where I would have pulled your ticket and had you flogged. But if it truly was, as Mr. Carl claims”—he paused, looked down at the docket on the bench before him—“Derek Moats, the defendant, sitting next to Mr. Carl this whole time, then, Ms. Johnstone, your witness blew the identification, your case is dead, and I expect it to be dismissed forthwith. Do you understand?”
    “We could still make the argument that—”
    “I don’t want to hear arguments. It will be dismissed, is that clear?”
    “Yes, Judge.”
    “Any questions?”
    “No, Judge.”
    “And, Mr. Carl, don’t you dare leave this courtroom until Ms. Johnstone makes her report.”
    “What about lunch?”
    “Eat the desk, I don’t care, but you stay right here.”
    “Yes, Your Honor.”
    “Okay then,” he said with a bang of his hammer, “we’re in recess. I need to take a pill.”
     
    I signaled to Derek not to say a word to anyone and watched as A.D.A. Johnstone and two police officers escorted the two young men from the courtroom. Then I sat down and leaned back to wait.
    Just at that moment, a massive weight fell onto my shoulder and almost sent me reeling backward to the floor. I angrily jerked around and spied a huge man, with broad shoulders, an expanding stomach, and a face like a boxer who had bobbed when he should have weaved. Detective McDeiss of the Homicide Division. And he was shaking his big old head at me.
    “That was cute,” he said.
    “You think so?”
    “Which is which?”
    “I am an officer of the court, Detective.”
    “You’re also incapable of telling the truth.”
    “Not this time.”
    “So he identified the wrong one?”
    “Yes, he did.”
    “Then I assume that you are quite proud of yourself for tricking a servant of the people.”
    “Quite. But I didn’t have to trick him, he tricked himself. You heard what he said. I have a reputation. But my client wasn’t selling anyway. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
    “Just like you,” he said as he dropped something onto the table.
    I looked down, felt my nerves fizzle.
    It was the Daily News, the chronicle of high crimes and low misdemeanors of the residents of our fair town. And spread across the front page was the picture of a fine stone house and the headline mansion of death.
    I hadn’t had time to check the papers that morning, so I paged through it quickly, stopping at the article. It gave a few details of the Denniston murder and mentioned that the doctor’s wife was still in police custody. A statement about the investigation was made by Detective Augustus Sims, who simply confirmed that the wife of the deceased was being held for questioning. And the paper also quoted Julia Denniston’s attorney, Clarence Swift, as forcibly denying that Julia had anything to do with the tragedy and urging the public to come forward with any information about the crime. “In my modest opinion,” he was quoted as saying, “as the investigation continues, the evidence will completely exonerate Mrs. Denniston.” My name was conspicuously absent. I must say I was a bit