Diehl, William - Show of Evil by Unknown Read Free Book Online

six storeys tall and occupied a quarter of
a block near Ashland. The brass plaque beside the entrance road simply:
DELANEY ENTERPRISES, INC., FOUNDED 1961.
    The executive offices were on the sixth floor and were reminiscent
of the offices that had been there a hundred years before. As Shock
Johnson stepped off the lift, he looked out on a vast open space
sectioned off into mahogany and glass squares. With the exception of
Delaney's office suite and the three vice presidents' offices that
adjoined it, which occupied one full side of the large rectangle, all
the other offices lacked both privacy and personality. Johnson thought
for a moment of Dickens: he could almost see the ghost of Uriah Heep
sitting atop a high stool in the corner, appraising the room to make
sure everyone kept busy. The executive secretary, Edith Stoddard, was
dressed to mourn in a stern, shin-length black dress. She wore very
little make-up; her hair was cut in a bob reminiscent of the Thirties
and was streaked with grey. She was a pleasant though harsh-looking
woman; her face was drawn and she looked tired.
    'I've arranged for you to use three VP suites,' she said, motioning
to them with her hand. 'You got the list of employees?'
    'Yes, ma'am, thank you,' Johnson answered.
    'We have very hurriedly
called a board of directors meeting,' she said. 'I'll be tied up for an
hour or two.'

Twelve
    The felony and misdemeanour history of the county was stored in
canyons of documents in an enormous warehouse that covered a square
block near the criminal courts building. Row after row and tier upon
tier of trial transcripts, bound between uniform brown covers, filled
the enormous warehouse with faded and fading files. Many more had been
misplaced, lost, destroyed, or misfiled; simply transposing the
numbers in the index could send a record into file oblivion. Physical
evidence was harder to come by. Returned to owners, lost, or destroyed,
it was hardly worth the effort to track it down. St Claire signed in
and quickly found the registration number of the trial transcript:
'Case Number 83-45976432, the State versus Aaron Stampler. Murder in
the first degree. Martin Vail for defence. Jane Venable for
prosecution.' He was pointed down through the narrow passageways. Dust
seemed to be suspended in shafts of lights from skylights. It took
fifteen minutes before he found a cardbox box with STAMPLER, A.
83-45976432 scrawled on the side with a Magic Marker. He carried the
box containing the transcript, three volumes of it, to a steel-framed
table in the centre of the place and sat down to study Vail's most
famous case.
    Something had triggered St Claire's phenomenal memory, but he had
yet to finger exactly what was gnawing at him: an abstract memory just
beyond his grasp. But in that box St Claire was certain he would find
what he was looking for, just as he now knew it would have nothing to
do with the bodies in the landfill.
    He started reading through the first volume but realized quickly
that he would have to categorize the material in some way. He leafed
through the jury selection and the mundane business of preparing the
court for the trial; scanned ahead, looking for key words, piecing
together bits and pieces of testimony; and made numerous trips to the
copy machine. Then he began his own peculiar version of link analysis,
categorizing them and working through the trial in logical rather than
chronological order.
    But St Claire was also interested in how Vail had conducted a
defence that almost everyone believed was hopeless. And also the
adversarial cross-examination of Stenner, who was the homicide
detective in charge of the investigation. The fireworks began in the
opening minutes of the trial.
    JUDGE SHOAT. Mr Vail, to the charge of murder in the first
degree, you have previously entered a plea of not guilty. Do you now
wish
to change that plea?
    VAIL: Yes sir.
    JUDGE SHOAT: And how does the defendant now plead?
    VAIL: Guilty but insane.
    JUDGE SHOAT. Mr Vail,