ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (12 page)

            “So you think this wasn’t just some random attack ’cause I looked at the guy the wrong way?”

            “If he’d taken a swing at you with his fist, maybe. But a knife attack. That’ll get this guy a lot more years in jail than whatever sentence he’s already serving.”

            Pete sat back in his chair and stared at her for a moment. “Bubba saved my life. What if he dies?” Worry clouded his eyes.

            Kate took a deep breath. Time to switch gears and go into therapist mode.

            “Do you fear dying in a fire, Pete?”

            Once again, he gave her a startled look. “I don’t get it.”

            Kate tried a different tactic. “What’s Bubba in jail for?”

            Pete still looked confused. “Second degree murder. Barroom fight. He was drunk. He pled not guilty just to delay going to the federal prison. Conditions are better here, he said.”

            “So he’s been in prison before. Did you get the impression he fights a lot?”

            “Oh, yeah. He said so. Says he likes a good fight, gets the juices flowing.”

            Kate nodded. “So fighting is what he does and the potential consequences don’t scare him all that much. If you rescued somebody from a fire, and then ended up dying from injuries from that fire, would you want that person to feel guilty?”

            Pete cocked his head to one side. She could see on his face that he’d gotten it, even before he shook his head.

            The phone lying on the table rang. She answered it.

            “Couldn’t reach the director,” Rob said without preamble. “Deputy director’s on his way.”

            “That was fast.”

            “To quote him, ‘we take security and the safety of every prisoner very seriously.’” Rob’s tone was derisive. “He’s going to put Pete in the Protective Custody Unit, with a hand-picked guard on the door. How’s he likely to handle being isolated?”

            “We already talked about that. He’ll be okay, for now at least.”

            “Good. I’m going to ask for an emergency hearing tomorrow, to revisit the bail situation. Might help if you could be there.”

            She stifled a sigh. Tomorrow’s afternoon schedule had been left open so she could help Billy’s teacher with the petting zoo. She didn’t get all that many opportunities to participate in school events, and she hated to give this one up. But Pete’s safety and sanity were more important.

            “I’ve got tomorrow afternoon off anyway. I was supposed to help in Billy’s classroom.”

            “Okay, I’ll try for early afternoon.”

            “That’ll work. Maria can take Billy’s gerbil in and help out in my place until I can get there.”

~~~~~~~~

            At noon on Tuesday, Skip, Dolph and Rose were once again cruising the streets in Frederico’s territory. They spotted a group of scantily-clad ladies standing at the next corner. Dolph pulled over.

            This time Skip was going to talk to them. Rose was in the backseat. She pointed out three of the women who had been Matthews’ before he was killed.

            Skip was secretly relieved they weren’t confronting Frederico today. Nonetheless, he was fighting the unfamiliar feeling gnawing at his gut. He’d always been a big believer in listening to his gut instincts, but now he wasn’t so sure. Were there signs of true danger he’d missed, or was this irrational fear?

           
Just talkin’ to some prostitutes here
, he reminded himself.

            But he didn’t get very far with them. They answered his questions in monosyllables, if that. He reached into his back pocket and took out the wallet that contained only a dozen of his business cards and a few ten dollar bills. Several folded over fifties were in his front pocket. He handed out the cards. “Any of you ladies think of anything, you give me a ring. If it turns out to be helpful there’s a fifty in it for you, maybe more.”

            Starting to shove the wallet back into his pocket, Skip noticed the youngest of the group giving him a speculative look. He couldn’t quite read it. He didn’t think she was sizing him up as a john. This must be the one Judith had told them about. She looked no older than twelve.

            He pulled the wallet back out and held it up, meeting the girl-woman’s gaze. “A fifty, or more, for information. Even something little might help. You never know what you might know that would be useful to us.”

            He pocketed the wallet and turned to walk away, his senses now on high alert.

            He’d only gone half a block when he felt what he’d been expecting, the feather-light touch of someone trying to pick his pocket. He reached back and clamped down on a thin wrist, then pivoted around.

            But it wasn’t
who
he’d expected. He was looking into the emaciated face of the tall, black girl who’d identified herself as Gazelle.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” Skip said in a conversational tone, as she tried desperately to twist her arm loose.

            “Nuthin’. Lemme go!”

            “Nothing, huh? Looks to me like you were trying to pick my pocket.”

            “No, no, I was just gonna ask if you wanted some company, tha’s all.”

             “Gazelle, my wallet’s half outta my pocket. You were trying to steal it.”

            “Oh, no sir, I weren’t. I just be behind in my quota.” Her eyes, already wide with fright, went wider. She’d said something she hadn’t meant to say.

            “Your quota?”

            “Of johns.”

            “Of johns or wallets?”

            “No, sir, of johns. But if you don’t want none, I be gettin’ back to work.”

            “What does Frederico do with the wallets, Gazelle?”

            “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.” She yanked harder and Skip was afraid he might break her wrist.

            “I could get you arrested for assault and theft. Those are a little tougher raps to get out of than soliciting.” He expected her to relent and start talking, but she didn’t.

            “I didn’t steal nothin’ an’ you can’t prove nothin’. Now lemme go.” Her voice was a low hiss now.

            He let her yank her wrist free. Skip had never seen a woman run in platform shoes with three-inch heels before, but she was steady on her feet as she took off down the sidewalk.

            Back in the car, he filled Dolph and Rose in on the exchange.

            “Curiouser and curiouser,” Dolph said.

            “Yup.”

~~~~~~~~

            Rob and Kate stood on either side of Pete, in his orange jumpsuit and shackles, in front of the judge’s bench. The prosecutor, a bailiff and the two guards who had brought Pete over from the jail were the only other people in the courtroom.

            Rob had briefly made his case for lowering the bail amount to $150,000. He’d told her beforehand he thought that was the lowest amount the judge would go for.

            Now the prosecutor was repeating his spiel about Pete being a flight risk.

            The judge raised his hand to stop the flow of words. “Thank you, Mr. Fitzsimmons, for that recap. This is more than a little unusual, Mr. Franklin. I don’t really see how your client’s cell mate getting knifed in a fight should affect my ruling regarding bail.”

            “Your Honor,” Kate spoke up. “My husband is a private detective. He’s been checking out another possible suspect for Mr. Matthews’ killing. When he started investigating, he and his operatives were shot at, we assume to discourage him from continuing that investigation. We think this knife attack is related. If Mr. Jamieson dies in a jailhouse brawl, end of case.”

            “So you don’t think the police have the right man?”

            ASA Fitzsimmons started spluttering but the judge held up his hand.

            Kate resisted the temptation to point out that the police detective on the case didn’t think she had the right man.

            “Mr. Jamieson is innocent until proven guilty,” Rob said. “Until his day in court, the system is required to keep him safe. You set bail based on the possibility that he is a flight risk. Mrs. Huntington and I are sure enough he is not, that we are willing to post his bail and I will take personal responsibility for him until his court date.”

            The judge raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got $150,000 to post bail for this young man?”

            “No, sir, but we have the ten percent fee a bail bondsman requires.”

            “I would assume, Mr. Franklin, that you know you will not get that money back.”

            “Yes, sir,” Rob said.

            “Some of the money is ours,” Kate said, “but most of it came from the parishioners at my church, and my priest’s discretionary fund.”

            Now both of the judge’s eyebrows were in the air. “You collected fifteen thousand dollars by passing the plate on Sunday?”

            “Well, almost, sir. It’s a big church, with some deep pockets. A little over ten thousand was collected from the congregation.”

            The judge shook his head. “Now let me get this straight. You two are putting up a sizeable chunk of your own money to get this man out of jail, because you are that convinced of his innocence.” His tone was skeptical.

            Kate was suddenly afraid he would think they’d lost their professional perspectives. They had! But that didn’t change the reality that Pete was in danger if he stayed in jail.

            “Mr. Franklin, this is not a very lucrative approach to running a law practice,” the judge was saying.

            Kate jumped in. “Yes, sir. We’re convinced he’s innocent, and we’re also doing this because Mr. Jamieson saved lives on 9/11.” She felt Pete squirm and nudged the side of his leg with her knee. “As Americans, we owe him a debt of gratitude that money can hardly begin to cover.”

            The judge looked at the lawyer and the therapist for another long moment. Finally he said, “I’m lowering bail to $100,000. Give your priest his money back, Mrs. Huntington. Mr. Jamieson, you’d better not let these people down.”

            “No, sir. I won’t,” Pete said.

            The judge motioned to the guards. As they moved across the courtroom, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Mrs. Huntington, if I ever run for office, I want you to be in charge of my fund-raising.”

            Kate smiled up at him. She opted not to point out that her priest was a woman.

~~~~~~~~

            Kate thoroughly enjoyed the rest of her afternoon. By the time she’d arrived at the kids’ school, the petting zoo was in full swing. Watching Billy’s class play with each other’s pets and learn about the different animals had been a blast.

            The two clouds that had been affecting her mood lately had lifted. Mac was definitely on the road to recovery, and Pete Jamieson was out of jail and safe.

            After Rob had made the arrangements with a bail bondsman, he’d called Judith Anderson. She’d given him permission to put Pete in a safe house, as long as she was kept apprised of his location. They’d consulted with Skip and had decided Pete’s place in western Maryland was relatively safe. The trailer had been parked there by the previous owner without bothering to get a permit, so on paper it was undeveloped land.

            Skip had seemed hesitant but he’d finally agreed to send two bodyguards out there with Pete. One of them was Manny Ortiz. Kate knew he was excellent at his job. He’d been her guard on a couple occasions in the past.

            When the dismissal bell rang, Kate gathered up Billy and his gerbil and went to collect Edie from her classroom. As the three of them started across the parking lot, Billy insisted on carrying Harry’s cage.

            “Okay, but be careful,” Kate said, pausing to make sure he had a good grip on the handle. Edie began to tell her mother about her day.

            Kate tried to pay attention to the girl’s chatter while monitoring Billy’s handling of the gerbil cage. Suddenly the light dimmed. She looked up, thinking maybe they were in for a storm.

            A man was coming toward them, his tall, broad-shouldered body casting a long shadow in the afternoon sun.

            Just as he came abreast of them, Billy tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. The man reached out and snagged the gerbil cage before it could tumble out of the boy’s hands. “Whoa there, son.”

            “Thank you,” Kate said, as she took the cage from him. She peered in to make sure Harry was okay. The gerbil gave her an accusatory look. She lowered the cage and made eye contact with Harry’s rescuer. He was quite handsome in a generic, boyish-good-looks way.

            “No problem. Phil Talbot.” The man extended his hand. Kate juggled the cage over to her left hand so she could shake his.

            “We’re new in town. My daughter’s just started here.”

            “Oh, what class is she in?” Kate asked to be polite.

            “Gosh, how embarrassing. I don’t know her teacher’s name. My wife deals with all that, meeting the teachers and all. She’s in third grade.”

            “What’s her name?” Edie piped up.

            “Ashley. Would you watch out for her and try to show her the ropes?” Mr. Talbot asked her.

            “Sure,” Edie said. “I’m in second grade. We have lunch at the same time as the third graders. I’ll look for her tomorrow in the cafeteria.”

            “That’s terrific,” Talbot said. “Can I tell her your name?”

            “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Kate Huntington-Canfield.” It was a mouthful but she always used both names at school, since Edie’s last name was also officially Huntington-Canfield. “This is Edie and Billy.”

            “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Huntington-Canfield, and Edie and Billy. You take care now.”

            Kate caught herself turning to follow the man with her eyes as he walked away. He had a nice butt.

            Stop that!
She chuckled to herself.
Well, if the guys can look, why can’t I?