Violent Crimes by Phillip Margolin Read Free Book Online Page A

each other and you hand me the bag with the money. After that, I’m gone.”
    â€œOkay. What time?”
    â€œFive o’clock,” she said, picking an hour when there would be plenty of people around.
    Carol hung up. She was scared but she also felt proud of herself. She’d been in control, in charge. And she’d soon be rich. Ten thousand fucking dollars. She’d never possessed anything near that sum. Carol paused. Maybe she should have asked for more. Then she shook her head. No, that was a lot of money, and there was no need to be greedy.
    Carol left her apartment at four thirty. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt with a hoodie, and she was carrying her worldly possessions in a backpack. Pioneer Courthouse Square was on the other side of the river and too far to walk, so she headed for the bus stop. The thought that she was going to be rich energized her. She was so pumped that she didn’t pay attention to what was going on around her until a black van pulled to the curb. Its side door slid open and the man who had been following her shoved her into the opening. Carol started to scream but a cloth was pressed over her mouth. Seconds later, Carol and her dreams died.

CHAPTER 11
    Two days after Tom Beatty’s arrest, Kate Ross told her boss that the scuttlebutt around the courthouse was that Larry Frederick had begged for Tom’s case. When his wish was granted, he quickly convened a grand jury that returned a true bill charging aggravated murder. One of the potential penalties for aggravated murder was death.
    That afternoon a messenger delivered a thick manila envelope with a copy of the indictment and several hundred pages of police, forensic, and autopsy reports. After receiving the discovery, Amanda placed a call to Larry Frederick. His secretary told Amanda that the DA was unavailable, and he remained unavailable every time Amanda called. That was odd, because Larry Frederick was one of the most accessible prosecutors in the Multnomah County District Attorney’s Office.
    The day after she received the discovery package, Amanda went to the courthouse for Tom Beatty’s arraignment. The case had been assigned to the Honorable David Chang, a former prosecutor who had shown no favoritism to the prosecution or the defense since taking the bench five years before. Cathy Prieto-Smith was the only lawyer seated at the prosecution table. She was tall and slim, had auburn hair cut in a pixie style, and was wearing a severe black business suit and an open-neck, cream-colored blouse. Amanda wondered if Larry Frederick was going to skip the arraignment.
    Amanda took her seat at counsel table and set up her laptop while she waited for the deputies to bring in her client. Moments later, the courtroom door opened and Frederick entered. He did not look at Amanda when he walked to his seat or after he sat down, so Amanda took the initiative.
    â€œHi, Larry,” she said when she was standing next to the DA. When he turned toward her, she was shocked. Frederick had the washed-out appearance of a man who was having trouble sleeping.
    â€œAmanda,” Frederick answered tersely.
    â€œYou know I’ve been calling since I heard you got Tom’s case.”
    â€œI do. And I haven’t returned the calls because we have nothing to talk about. I blame myself for Christine Larson’s death, and I’m going to set things right by putting your client on death row.”
    â€œYou’re not serious? You have a duty to see that justice is done in every case you handle. Tom acted in self-defense—your own investigation showed that. If you hadn’t dropped the case, you would have been violating your oath.”
    â€œI’m in no mood to discuss legal philosophy and ethics. Christine Larson is dead because I didn’t prosecute Beatty and I’m not making the same mistake twice. So let me make myself clear:There will be no plea-bargaining in this case; no life