Proof Positive (2006) (21 page)

It's in here, Moreland said as he pointed into the bathroom that adjoined Mary's bedroom. The policeman stepped aside and Cashman, his boss, and the detective walked over to the wastepaper basket. The syringe and the glassine envelopes Cashman had planted were resting on top of some crumpled tissues.

Thanks, Phil. We won't need you anymore, Guzman said.

Moreland walked downstairs, leaving the three men standing in the door to the bathroom. Guzman stared at the evidence of Mary Clark's fall from grace and shook his head sadly.

I never saw this coming, he said as Cashman photographed the bathroom and the basket. The men were silent as Cashman removed the evidence and bagged it. When he was through, Guzman sighed.

Poor Mary, he said.

Don't beat yourself up, Carlos, Cashman told his boss. None of us suspected that she had a habit.

I feel bad about not recognizing her when we found the body, Hooper told them.

You shouldn' t, Cashman said. Ron and I worked with her every day and we didn't know it was her.

Hooper shook his head. Her face was so fucked up I just didn't want to look.

The men were quiet, standing around the wastepaper basket as if it were Mary's coffin. Then Hooper clenched his fist.

That pervert is going to pay.

I'm sure he will, Steve, Cashman said. You caught him with the body, Ron's tied him to the pubic hairs, the blood on the T-shirt connects him to Mary, and his prints are all over the knife. You have a very solid case.

Weaver and Jaffe are probably going to try an insanity defense to keep Cohen off death row.

That is a worry, but either way he'll pay, Cashman said. Sometimes I wonder if having to spend the rest of your life locked in a cage isn't worse than a death sentence.

An eye for an eye, Bernie, Hooper answered angrily. That's what I believe in. Killing scum like Cohen is garbage disposal.

Bernie wanted Hooper and Guzman to leave so he could search for the hammer. He handed Hooper the bag with the syringe and the glassine envelopes.

Can you take these downstairs and get them logged in? I want to finish up here.

Sure thing, Hooper said as he grabbed the bag.

We'll get out of your way and let you get to work, Guzman said. He shook his head sadly. I just had to see it for myself.

Guzman and Hooper headed for the stairs. As soon as they were out of sight, Bernie turned slowly, looking for any place he had missed when he searched the bedroom on the evening he abducted Mary. He had been rushed that night but now, under the guise of conducting a thorough crime-scene investigation, he could spend all the time he wanted looking for the hammer from the Hayes case.

Cashman went through every drawer in the room and every inch of space in the closet. He even looked under the bed. Then he searched Mary's bathroom. Nothing. He moved down the hall to the guest bedroom. When he was through in there, he searched the hall closets. He was growing desperate. If another criminalist found the hammer before he did, it could be disastrous.

An hour later, Cashman was convinced that the hammer was not on the second floor. That left the ground floor and the attic. Several people were combing the ground floor, but no one had started in the attic. A door at the end of the second-floor hall opened onto a narrow flight of stairs. Cashman was sweating from nerves and his stomach was in a knot as he climbed them.

Bernie, a voice from the bottom of the stairs called.

Cashman froze. Had they found the hammer? Mary had hidden it, and everyone would want to know why. It wouldn't take them long to wonder if her reason for hiding the weapon was somehow connected with Bernard Cashman, the criminalist who had miraculously cracked the Hayes case by finding a fingerprint on the handle.

Yes, Cashman answered.

Carlos wants everyone downstairs.

What for? he asked anxiously.

He wants to find out what we' ve got so far.

I haven't finished with the attic.

You can do that later. He wants you now.

Cashman swore to himself. There was no way to avoid the meeting. He turned and headed downstairs, praying that he would have a chance to search the attic later.

Chapter
29.

WHEN HENRY TEDESCO WALKED INTO MARTIN BREACH's OFFICE at the Jungle Club, Breach was wearing a black satin shirt, gold chains, and tan double-knit slacks. Henry's boss was bent over, using chopsticks on Thai takeout so spicy that Henry could see sweat beading the patches of scalp showing under Breach's comb-over.

What have you got for me, Henry? he asked as he slurped up a reddish yellow curry made with coconut milk.

You remember wondering if someone from the crime lab was on Felix Dorado's payroll?

Breach nodded.

Have you read about the unidentified woman who was murdered in that vacant lot on Queen Anne?

Yeah?

The police identified her. She's Mary Clark, a forensic specialist from the Oregon state crime lab who worked on the murder at the Continental Motel. Now here's the interesting part. She had a smack habit.

Breach stopped eating. You think this bitch was paid to frame Artie?

You know what they say about smoke and fire.

A heroin addict, Breach muttered to himself. That fucker Dorado must have got to her.

Once he found out she was an addict he'd own her.

I want you to visit Frank. Tell him. Maybe he can do something with it suppress the evidence, something like that.

I learned something else that will be even more useful.

Tedesco told Breach what Clarence Edwards had said to Marsha Hastings about the two men he'd seen leaving Vincent Ballard's motel room on the night of the murder.

We need to turn Frank on to Edwards, Breach said.

That may be a problem. He disappeared the day after we spoke. I have men looking for him but I think he left the state.

Is the whore still living at the Continental?

Yes, but that may not help Art, Tedesco said. If I understand my law properly, Mr. Jaffe won't be able to get the description into evidence.

Yeah, right, hearsay, said Breach, who was as knowledgeable about criminal law as many attorneys. The whore would be testifying to what this Clarence told her, but she didn't see nothing herself.

We might not need Edwards or the Hastings woman. I may have a line on one of the shooters.

Breach smiled. That would be good.

Tedesco nodded agreement. If we can find him we may be able to convince him to unburden his conscience.

No question about that, no question about that, Martin Breach said as he licked his lips in anticipation.

Chapter
30.

DOUG WEAVER HAD PRACTICED LAW ALMOST AS LONG AS AMANDA had; he'd tried six death-penalty cases and he'd argued in the Oregon Supreme Court on four occasions, but he was still nervous about working with an attorney who was looked upon as a star in the legal firmament.

Amanda had scheduled a brainstorming session at her office. Doug usually dressed down for a skull session with other lawyers. For this meeting, he wore a suit, shined his shoes, and arrived ten minutes early. More important, he had not had a drink since Amanda had asked him to co-counsel Jacob's case.

Moments after he told the receptionist his name, a woman walked into the waiting area and introduced herself as Kate Ross, the firm's investigator.

Amanda's still tied up with a client. She sent me to apologize. We' ve commandeered the conference room. You can wait in there. It shouldn't be too long.

A long table made of dark polished wood stretched across the center of the conference room. Bookshelves packed with law books and statutes filled the wall on one side of the table, and a blackboard took up most of the wall at the end of the table opposite the door.

There are soft drinks in the kitchen and we' ve got coffee and tea, Kate said, pointing at a credenza that stretched along the wall opposite the bookshelves. Arrayed on the credenza were silver trays with fruit and assorted pastries, urns full of coffee and hot water, a hand-carved wooden box holding an assortment of teas, a matched set of china cups, saucers and plates, a box of expensive silverware, and several bottles of water.

Coffee would be great, Doug told her.

Okay. I'll be back when Amanda is ready. Kate pointed to a telephone on the credenza. Buzz me if you need anything.

The investigator left, and Doug noticed two thick three-ring binders on one side of the table. A label that read STATE V. COHEN and another label, reading AMANDA JAFFE, were affixed to one cover. Kate Ross's name was on the other. Lying next to the binder were a legal pad, a pen, and two sharpened pencils. Doug's case reports were collected in manila folders with handwritten labels. He vowed to create a folder like Jaffe's as soon as their meeting was over.

It was warm in the conference room, and Doug thought about taking off his jacket, but he kept it on, because he wanted Amanda to think that he was all business. He filled a cup with black coffee and took his case files out of his briefcase. Separate files contained the police reports, lab reports, and autopsy report in the case. Another section held Doug's confidential notes of his interview with Jacob Cohen and other internal documents that he had copied for Amanda but which would not be turned over to the DA. A manila envelope was filled with pictures of the crime scene and the autopsy photographs. He shuddered when he remembered the close-up of Jane Doe's face. It had reminded Doug of one of those Picasso paintings, where the facial features are present but flattened and rearranged. Without the eyes and with the damage done to the cheeks, mouth, and nose, the poor woman barely looked human.

Suddenly, the door opened and Amanda and Kate walked in.

Hey, Doug, Amanda said, greeting Weaver as if he were an old friend. Amanda filled a cup with coffee and snatched a croissant off the pastry tray. Kate took a bottle of water and some fruit.

Kate and I have read through the file and we' ve formed certain impressions, Amanda said when they were seated. If it's okay with you, though, we'd like to get your take on the case first. That way we won't influence you and we'll see if we' re on the same wavelength.

Doug would have preferred to hear Amanda's ideas first, in case his were off the mark. He didn't want to look foolish. But he agreed to Amanda's suggestion.

I have to admit the state's got a solid case here, he said, but I did read things in the reports that raised questions. What surprised me was how many of the questions were cleared up if I assumed that Jacob didn't kill Jane Doe.

What troubled you? Amanda asked.

Okay, well, I'm having a problem understanding what happened with the crowbar. There were multiple stab wounds and the victim was hit with the crowbar a lot. Jacob admits handling the knife, and the lab found his prints all over it, but why aren't his fingerprints on the crowbar? I mean, the easy answer is that he wiped off the crowbar, but why wipe off the crowbar and not wipe off the knife?

Doug paused to see if Kate and Amanda were with him. When Amanda nodded, he continued.

Of course, the solution to the problem is simple if someone else killed Doe. The killer wipes his prints off both weapons and leaves them near the body, where Jacob finds them. He grabs the knife, like he said, but doesn't touch the crowbar.

We' ve been thinking along the same lines, Amanda said. Doug smiled like a student who'd just received a gold star from his favorite teacher. What else have you got?

I thought back over my interview with Jacob after reading the autopsy report and the police reports. Something didn't make sense. Jacob says that he never left the lot between seeing the murder and the cops arriving. So, how did Jane Doe's eyes and hands get out of the lot?

The answer to that is obvious, Kate said. Cohen lied.

Doug nodded. That's one possibility. But if he's telling the truth either he had an accomplice, which isn't likely, or the real killer took the hands and eyes away. Think about it why would Jacob want to dispose of the hands and eyes?

Because he's crazy, Kate answered. At least, that's what Hannah Graves will say.

Or he doesn't want anyone to figure out who she is, Amanda added.

That doesn't work, Amanda, Doug said. If Jacob didn't want anyone to know Jane Doe was connected to him, why take the trouble to get rid of the eyes and hands but leave her body in the lot?

Good point, Amanda conceded. What are your thoughts about the bloody T-shirts that were found in the garbage bag in Jacob's car?

That's a stumper, Doug admitted, but there is something that worries me about it. When he was arrested, Jacob was wearing a sweatshirt and a T-shirt. The police report says that there wasn't any blood on either of them. It was cold and raining all evening. Jacob would have been wearing the sweatshirt over his T-shirt, so how did the blood get on the T-shirts that were found in his car and not get on the sweatshirt?

That's easy, answered Kate, who Doug realized had been designated to play the devil's advocate. The vic comes into the lot while Jacob is in his car wearing only the T-shirts. Maybe he was changing clothes. Anyway, he runs out and kills her. Then he sees the blood on his shirts, so he goes back to the car, strips off the bloody T-shirts and puts them in the garbage bag before putting on the clothes in which he was arrested.