Plea of Insanity (17 page)

32

‘Wow. You’re famous now. Can I touch you?’ Dayanara asked with a laugh as she and Julia slipped into a booth in a Miami Subs a few blocks removed from the chaos that probably still lingered around the courthouse. ‘Even though you’re skinny, don’t forget the camera adds ten pounds.’

‘Very funny. Notice who Farley kept addressing in that courtroom, who it was the press wanted to interview. It wasn’t me, Day. Fame doesn’t become me.’

‘Give it a little time.’

Julia made a face as Day rummaged through the abyss of her enormous purse. She dug out a box of Table Toppers – disposable kiddie placemats – stuck one to the table, and then neatly spread out her soda, burger and French fries, carefully covering all images of a smiling Dora the Explorer. ‘I wish they’d make these without the damn characters,’ she mumbled, sounding annoyed. ‘Speaking of people not wanting you to have fame, I saw your DC shooting optical death daggers your way as you ambled up to the podium. Bitch. I never liked her. What’s up with that?’

Julia smiled and sipped at her iced tea. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. She’s none too happy I’m trying this, that’s for sure. She’s blaming her anger on the fact that I’m about three months behind on my dispos.’

‘Try more like six. I’ve seen your office floor. Or rather, I should say, I haven’t seen your office floor.’

‘Dispos are the least of my worries now.’

‘True,’ Day said as she wiped an alcohol pad over the disposable forkshe’d just ripped out of a sealed plastic baggie. ‘As a fellow self-professed workaholic, I have to say I’m beginning to worry about you, though. All you’re doing, all the time, is this case, girlfriend. I’d almost forgotten what you looked like, it’s been so long since we lunched. At least now I can turn on my TV at night and remind myself, should I forget again.’ Through a bite of her burger that she held in hands wrapped up like a prizefighter in napkins, she asked, ‘Doesn’t that boyfriend of yours actually
do
anything besides stand up and take all the credit?’

The press had pounced once again after court and Rick had held another impromptu press conference, this one downstairs in the lobby. For maybe a moment or two this morning – when Julia had first stepped out beside him into a crowd of cameras that no longer dismissed her – the attention was exciting. She thought about Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Nora mixing Bloody Marys poolside, proudly pointing their celery sticks at Jimmy’s portable Sony Watchman while their neighbors asked them to turn up the volume. But the initial excitement quickly faded, replaced by an uncomfortable, guilty sort of feeling that told her the limelight was just not for her. At least, not on this case. As the questions started up, she quickly fell away from the crowd that followed Rick around like he was the Pied Piper, ducking into a staircase off the judge’s back hallway. Lat and Brill apparently had the same idea; she saw them drive off a few minutes later as she made her way back to the Graham Building.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Julia said. ‘At least, I don’t think he is, and that’s the price of being second seat on a murder, I guess. I get all the pre-files and the legwork. It’s fine. I learned a lot.’

‘Nice speech. Tell me, is Lover gonna let you actually
do
anything at trial? Like speak?’

The thing about Day that Julia both admired and feared was that she always,
always
said what she thought – even if you didn’t like it, and even if she knew you weren’t gonna like it when she said it. You got what you saw with Dayanara. And like a lot of pit prosecutors – resentful, perhaps, of his revered reputation and much larger paycheck, and maybe put off by what they saw as arrogance and pomposity – Day didn’t like Rick Bellido. Tall tales of skirt chasing – around the office, courthouse and PD water coolers – didn’t help either. Then there was the rumor that he’d picked out the trial outfits of a senior Division Chief who he’d once tapped to try a Major Crimes murder with him – right down to the shade of her lipstickand the height of her heels. ‘If you let him so much as suggest the color earrings for you, Julia, I’ll hurt you. So help me,’ Day finished, menacingly shaking a forked fry at her, ‘you’ll go naked into that courtroom when my scissors find you.’

‘Down, Fido. That’s not ever gonna happen. I can assure you that dressing me has not come up. Undressing me, maybe …’ she laughed.

Day held up her hands. ‘TMI. Too much information. Yeuch.’

‘Listen, I don’t know what he’ll let me do at trial,’ Julia continued, ‘but as the speech is
supposed
to go, “I’m just grateful for the opportunity to be here.” And stop calling him Lover; you’re gonna slip. No one knows anything about that. Please. I was desperate to talk and you were sworn to secrecy.’

‘Trust me, he’d be flattered to be known as your lover, honey. You make stunning arm candy. Men who nab young, beautiful girlfriends when they’re in the middle of a mid-life like to show them off. And while I hate to burst your bubble, don’t think that conclusion hasn’t already been drawn in everybody else’s mind after today.’

‘Maybe,’ Julia said, thoughtfully crunching on an onion ring. ‘But I’m certainly not going to confirm it. I want my reputation made on this case and that’s it. So make that young, beautiful and
smart
arm candy.’

‘I hate to break it to you, honey, but I didn’t include smart in the definition for a reason. Not because you aren’t, but because intelligence is not required for the job and is generally discouraged.’

‘Thanks,’ Julia said, raising an eyebrow.

‘You’re welcome. And that onion’s gonna give you bad breath. You never eat that stuff once you finally get yourself a man. Didn’t your momma ever tell you that?’ This time she pulled floss and a small bottle of Listerine out of her purse and pushed them across the table. ‘Thank me when the kids are born.’

‘You’re too much.’

‘Speaking of bearing children for someone, your detective’s hot. Not the lawn patch. The rebel. And he’s Italian. My favorite food. Yum.’

Julia frowned and crunched another onion ring. ‘I’ll be sure to mention that to him.’

‘Please do. And don’t forget to credit the author.’ There was a slight pause before Day asked, ‘How does it feel to be on a death case? Are you okay with it? Pretty heavy shit.’

‘No. Yes. I’m not sure,’ Julia replied softly as the conversation subtly changed direction. ‘I didn’t know that was coming today, Day, so I can’t answer that question right now.’ She kept expecting things to be either black or white in the courtroom, like they’d always been. For her feelings to be as sure and as unwavering as they’d once seemed to be …

Your client scores to twenty months state prison; take the plea or go to trial – that’s your choice.

This is the law, right here in the statute, and this is what the law means, right here in the case. I didn’t write it and I didn’t interpret it, but you broke it and now here’s the penalty – conveniently spelled out for you, right here in the sentencing guidelines
.

Now the lines seemed to be dulling, the sharp colors that demarked the all-important boundaries of order were fading, and all she could see today was gray – a defense attorney’s favorite color – and it was making her uneasy.

‘As probably the only registered Democrat in this county,’ Day said, ‘I can tell you that I’m not a proponent of the death penalty. But your defendant, Julia, is a damn freak. Gives me the creeps just looking at him, the way he looked in court today. He’s got nothing – no emotion whatsoever. And those eyes of his – they’re like what you’d see on a horror-movie poster hanging outside the theater. Dead eyes. When the judge started talking about the things he did to those kids …’ she said with a shudder as she finished off the last bite of burger. ‘Well, you’re not gonna have any problem finding twelve people to vote for the needle. So be prepared, is all I’m saying.’

Julia nibbled on her straw but said nothing. A Channel Ten news truck pulled into the crowded parking lot. She recognized one of the three faces that stepped out as a reporter from court and she turned her head away from the window. ‘Time to go,’ she said to Day.

‘Better prepare yourself for that, too,’ Dayanara said, slipping on her sunglasses and nodding in the direction of the trio as they came in and joined the long line at the counter. ‘I have a feeling you just might make the big time after all with this one. Forget Lover – you may need to hire a stylist to dress you.’

‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ Julia whispered, her head bowed, as the two of them ducked out the back door of the restaurant.

33

Charley Rifkin opened one of the gray double doors that led into the fourth-floor private office of the State Attorney and stuck his head in. ‘I’ve got Rick Bellido with me,’ he said.

Jerry Tigler sat behind an enormous cherry desk, his slight body swallowed up in an oversized leather executive chair that was turned facing the row of windows and the skyline of Miami. Sheets of rain whipped against the glass, then ran down in jagged streaks, making the windows appear shattered from a distance. ‘Good, good,’ he answered absently, although he didn’t turn around. ‘Bring him in, Charley.’

Rick straightened his tie and followed Rifkin into the State Attorney’s office, as he had a thousand times or more in his long career as a prosecutor. But instinctively, he knew this time was different.

The Graham Building had been built only twelve years ago, but it would be at least another decade before the SAO would see one more penny from the state legislature for renovations. The room looked and felt tired: the mauve carpet was worn thin in a few spots; the gray walls scuffed and beaten from too many run-ins with office furniture.

‘Take a seat, Rick,’ said Rifkin, as he settled himself in one of the two leather chairs in front of the desk.

A few moments passed in polite silence. Finally, Tigler spun the chair around, leaned across the desk and shook Rick’s hand. He was smiling, but definitely distracted. ‘Rick, good to see you, son. How’d it go this morning?’

‘Good. You know we have Farley?’

Tigler shrugged his small shoulders and settled back into his chair. ‘I heard. And yet you still said it’s going good. That’s encouraging.’

‘The case is pretty open and shut. I don’t think even Len Farley can screw it up,’ Rick replied with a laugh.

‘We need to get that disaster off the bench somehow,’ Tigler said, scratching at the back of his head. ‘I’m working on Putnam to put him over in civil where at least he can’t hurt anybody. Let the big boys over there try to oust him – hell, they got more clout and more money and a lot less patience than me. But, you know, there’s not much Gene Putnam’s gonna do. Lenny’s blood.’

‘Which means Len Farley isn’t going anywhere Len Farley doesn’t want to go,’ Rifkin finished with a resigned nod. ‘I was in court watching this morning, Jerry. Even with a cantankerous judge doing his best to muddy waters, your boy here did a great job. You think Mel’s gonna try and plead him, Ricky?’

‘I’m sure. What Mel’s going to try is to get his client a life sentence. But I don’t want a plea, Charley. The man killed his whole family. There’s a price to pay, and I’m going to make sure he pays it.’

Rifkin let out a low whistle. ‘A dog with a bone.’

‘Send the message. Loud and clear to the masses. They’ll listen.’

‘You announced today?’ the State Attorney asked.

‘There was no sense in waiting, Jerry,’ Rickexplained. ‘The Grand Jury took twenty minutes to come back with an indictment. Martin was offering them tissues on their way out of the courthouse. The facts on this are so outrageous, the murders of the children cold-blooded and premeditated. I’ve definitely got the aggravators. If anyone deserves the death penalty, it’s gonna be this guy. I have no problems with it.’

Tigler paused for a moment. ‘I got a call from the French embassy this morning.’

Rick shifted in his seat just slightly. ‘The French embassy? What the hell?’

‘David Marquette’s a French citizen,’ Tigler said quietly.

Charley Rifkin shook his head, like he’d just remembered something. ‘Oh, shit.’

Rick felt his throat dry up. It was an unfamiliar feeling. ‘What?’

‘His parents – they’re French citizens, and he has dual citizenship. Somebody called the embassy and raised a stink. Apparently there’s international protocol to be followed by the police when a foreign national is arrested. The Vienna Convention on Consular Relations says that the consulate of the foreigner’s country must be notified within twenty-four hours after the arrest and allowed access to the individual. That wasn’t done here. Of course our doctor is actually a
dual
citizen, so the argument’s going to be that he should be treated like every other American and the convention’s not applicable in this instance.’

Rick shook his head. ‘No one knew he was a French citizen, Jerry. He certainly didn’t announce it.’ He slapped his hands hard on his thighs. ‘Damn it. Alright, what’s the penalty?’

‘That’s a gray area,’ Tigler returned slowly. ‘A pissed-off country’s a sure bet. The courts are apparently split. Some defendants have sought release as a remedy, dismissal of the charges – even executive clemency. Some courts have said that short of an apology and a heartfelt promise by the United States to try and do better with the next foreign criminal, there’s not much else that has to be done, because the treaty does not confer any rights on the individual arrested, rather it’s just a nation-to-nation protocol – a guideline, so to speak– on how foreign nationals should be treated if arrested abroad. But, I’m not gonna kid you boys; it’s a testy situation right now. Real testy. The International Court of Justice in The Hague – the World Court for the United Nations – ordered the US last April to review and reconsider the convictions of some fifty-one Mexican citizens sitting on death row in American prisons in response to a complaint by Mexico that their consulate wasn’t notified of the nationals’ arrests as the treaty requires. So now that you announced today that we’re seeking the death penalty on yet another foreign citizen, I’m sure it will be a
really
pissed-off country, especially since France, like the rest of the European Union, does not have, and does not support, capital punishment. I’m sitting here waiting for the phone to ring again and someone with a French accent to start screaming at me.’

Rick wanted to strangle John Latarrino right now, even though Lat probably had no way of knowing Marquette was a dual citizen. There was no computer system that popped out that kind of info on US citizens as a matter of course, at least not on a local level. But he abhorred looking unprepared – ever. And given his rocky past with the detective – who was still sore over a filing decision he’d made a couple of years back– it was a distinct possibility Lat might try and make him look like a fool. Or if not try, then sit back and just let it happen without intervening. But he resisted the urge to pass the blame. ‘I’ll look into it and speak to the consulate. If they’re entitled to access, then I’ll see to it that they get it, Jerry.’

‘Good,’ the State Attorney replied. Another sudden and furious downpour blew sheets of rain against the windows. Outside, the skyline disappeared completely. ‘Can you believe this damn weather?’ he said, turning back to the window. ‘I feel like I’ve been looking at rain for a month. We’ve had, what? Eight hurricanes in the past two years? Jesus, where the hell is the sun in the sunshine state?’

‘I think even
my
tan’s fading,’ Rick said, looking down at his hand with a laugh.

‘Now I know we’re in trouble,’ Tigler chuckled back.

‘I’ll tell you what’s in trouble, boys. My golf swing,’ Rifkin piped in.

‘You’ll get time enough to work on that drive, cowboy. How much longer do you have now?’ asked Tigler.

‘Let’s see. One year, six months and twenty-two days,’ replied Rifkin with a wistful sigh. He was already in DROP – the State’s Deferred Retirement Option Program. The five-year countdown to monthly pension checks had already begun. ‘But who the hell’s counting, right? How about you, Jer? What are we doing here? You joining me on that course anytime soon, or are you staying in the game?’

Jerry Tigler sighed. His red, plump face had deflated, as if the last of the laughter had been squeezed out of the tube. Tired lines sliced across his forehead, pulling at his mouth and crinkling his blue eyes. He looked every minute of his sixty-seven years right then. And a few more for good measure. ‘I’m done, Charley,’ he said, shaking his head slowly. ‘Thirty is enough.’

‘No. It’s a damn legacy,’ insisted Rifkin.

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘You’re gonna be missed, Jerry,’ Rick joined in.

‘I don’t know about that either. What I do know is that I’m not up to another campaign. The last one kicked my old, tired ass.’ Tigler looked at Rick. ‘Which brings us to you, young fellow. You’ve done exemplary work here in this office. You know that. You’re one of my closest confidants. And while I’ve offered this opportunity to my good friend and golf partner, over here, he doesn’t seem to want to put the target on his back at this stage in life.’

Rifkin waved a dismissive hand in front of him. ‘My biggest challenge in a year and a half is gonna be to break a seventy-seven. I don’t need to be managing any more headaches. My wife already gives me enough of those,’ he chuckled. ‘Thanks again, Jerry, but I’m still gonna pass.’

‘I don’t want to see this office go to the wrong party, Rick,’ Tigler began, smoothing his hair back, subtly checking it to make sure his hairpiece was still in the right place. ‘I want to pass the reins while I still have enough clout with the Governor to pass them. And I want to give the person I pass them to enough time to prove himself to the citizens of this county, the folks in this building, and the all-important moneymen in Tallahassee, before he’s forced to actually put his name on a ballot and take a chance at the polls in 2008. What you want is to get in there, prove yourself and scare off any challengers early on.’ He wagged a cautionary finger at Rick. ‘There’s a lot of people that count on stability in this office, Rick. They need it. And they need a name and a face of a leader they can identify with – align sides with – so they don’t go out trying to place bets on the wrong pony because they’re unsure of the future.’

Rick nodded. He felt the excitement bubbling inside him, like when a jury was about to come in with a verdict; he could always tell by the looks on their faces when they’d come backas charged. Always. Now he was looking at Jerry Tigler’s tired face in this tired room and he knew the next words out of his mouth.

‘With twenty years in this office, Rick, you’re well-respected by the staff, the attorneys, the defense bar and the bench. I don’t need to go into your management skills – you’ve paid your dues as Division Chief in the pits and as Assistant DC in Major Crimes. We all know that. You’re a hell of a leader; Charley is always singing your praises. I think you know the system, the politics and, most importantly, the people. I also think your surprising choice of a trial partner on this Marquette case was wise, too. She’s green, but that might make the lawyers in division not feel so isolated now. Morale’s been a big problem the past few years around here, with those in division feeling like they’re underpaid and overworked while the specialized unit attorneys – especially the elite in Major Crimes – rest on their laurels and kick back with a caseload of ten. I think your trying this with her can make Major Crimes attorneys look more accessible. In the end I think that will make
you
look more accessible to the pits, and that’s ultimately what will be important in your run in 2008.’

‘Thank you, Jerry. I appreciate your confidence,’ said Rick, drawing a slow breath.

‘So you know where I’m going with this. Are you game for the chance?’ Tigler finally asked.

‘As I think I’ve made it clear before, I am more than ready for this opportunity. I welcome the challenges that running this office can bring.’

‘Good, good,’ Tigler said, nodding his head slowly, as though finally accepting what he’d just said himself. ‘Then I’d like to start the transition; get you familiar with the ins and outs – the headaches, as Charley, here, likes to say – of daily life in my chair. I’m planning on making my departure official next September. I’d like to get your name in Jeb’s ear now, so there’s no hiccup when I make my announcement. I’m having lunch with him next week when he’s in town. I want to drop it then. What’s the time frame on Marquette?’

‘February.’

‘It won’t go then, will it?’

‘Probably not, but Farley can be funny. If Mel doesn’t look for a continuance, he could push it,’ Rick said with a shrug. ‘Most likely the summer.’

‘Winning that case would be a good note to start on, Rick. Free publicity can make you a household name quicker than any paid political advertisement. The quicker, the better.’ He stood up and walked out from behind his desk.

‘Congratulations, Ricky,’ Rifkin said with a big smile, rising and shaking his hand. ‘You’re the man.’

‘Yes,’ Tigler said, taking his hand and shaking it as well. ‘Congratulations are definitely in order.’