Nanny by Christina Skye Read Free Book Online Page B

on the phone, jotting shorthand notes on a yellow legal pad with the pen her daughter had given her last Mother’s Day. “I don’t believe any of this, Tony.”
    â€œBelieve it. Chain of evidence was shot to hell. The nurse at the clinic bagged the blood sample, but he didn’t take it to be refrigerated until after he handled a gunshot wound and had a smoke on the fourth-floor balcony.”
    Three weeks before, an eighteen-year-old Berkeley coed had been shot, assaulted, and left unconscious in a Chinatown alley. She’d managed to stagger to a small neighborhood clinic, where she was treated before police were called. Once she was lucid, she’d targeted her attacker as the honor-student president of a fraternity near her dorm. According to her account, they’d argued and he’d threatened her with the gun, then shot her and assaulted her.
    The case should have been open-and-shut, but faulty procedure in collection of physical evidence could hammer the strongest case full of holes.
    Cara closed her eyes. “This guy gets a medal for stupid.”
    â€œAfraid it gets worse. Our friend thought he’d be helpful, so he cleaned the bullet they pulled out of the patient’s chest and wrote her name on it.”
    Cara muttered a few choice phrases. A good defense lawyer could demand that the bullet be pulled as evidence, given this kind of mishandling. “What about her hands? Any signs of struggle? DNA evidence recovered?”
    Her colleague sighed. “He washed her up with Betadyne. Cleaned her real good. Said her parents wouldn’t want to see her like this.”
    â€œDon’t tell me we’ve got
nothing
?”
    â€œThe forensic people are going through her clothes and the other evidence now. We may get lucky, but the nurse dumped everything in a pile, so there’s a chance of cross contamination.”
    Cara braced herself. “Do I want to hear this?”
    â€œProbably not. A couple of tourists came into the clinic with food poisoning right about then. They threw up all over the victim’s clothes and shoes.”
    Sometimes fate spits in your face, Cara thought, and this was one of those times. “Make a note to see this nurse gets a crash course in preservation of physical evidence, okay? Threaten to yank his license, whatever, but see that he doesn’t pull a stunt like this again.”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œNow give me some good news, Tony. Tell me that we’ve got a deal in the Rothman case.”
    Marcus Rothman was a prominent gay painter who had recently learned that his longtime lover was walking out for a younger man. Rothman had planned a nice, civilized farewell meal—and then fed his lover his favorite sushi, nicely marinated in wasabi and Drano, resulting in a particularly unpleasant death.
    â€œRothman’s counsel said they’ll go for temporary insanity. He just saw the Drano and acted without thinking.”
    Cara gave a cold laugh.
    â€œYeah, I happen to agree, but Rothman has been undergoing therapy for long-standing abandonment and relationship issues. His therapist has volunteered to testify.”
    â€œCan we establish that Rothman bought the Drano
after
he found out he and his lover were quits?”
    â€œTried that. The Drano’s been under his sink for years. Old bottle, date-stamped 1998.”
    Cara cursed silently. “Keep working it. See if he bragged to anyone. Try his doorman or cleaning lady.” But she knew Rothman might slip away. Sometimes you took what you could get.
    She flipped through a recent deposition from a defense lawyer. “I’m still waiting for that good news.”
    â€œTry this. Barnhard’s people will go for voluntary manslaughter in the freeway road-rage incident.”
    â€œHmm.”
    â€œAre you okay, Cara? You sound like you’re off on a Jeep trek in Mongolia. Lots of mental static on the line.”
    â€œI’m fine,