Into The Heat (Sandy Reid Mystery Series Book 6) (9 page)

J
ust before lunch the next day, Shapiro called Sandy with the news she was hoping for. He wasn’t pleased that she had forced him to lessen the charge against Lester Bardner to second-degree homicide. With the new possibility that the victim was holding a gun, the defense would gain an advantage by using the Stand Your Ground defense—Coleman might have threatened Lester before he fired. Therefore, it was no longer certain that the prosecution would be successful going for first-degree. Although second-degree is a bondable charge in Florida, whereas first-degree was not, Mel warned that he still intended to fight releasing her client on bond.

Later that day, she stood before the judge. She cited the questionable video evidence, the possibility the victim was holding a gun, the CSI screw-up in touching the gun at the crime scene before taking photos plus the possibility of invoking the Stand Your Ground defense. She also mentioned that the prosecution had failed to discover any connection between the defendant and the victim as well as a total lack of motive. Although proof of motive isn’t a legal requirement, the absence of a motive makes it more difficult to convict because jurors don’t understand a murder unless a motive is discussed.

Shapiro continued to argue for no bail and stated the video showing the victim holding a gun was questionable. Nevertheless, as a result of the charge being reduced to second-degree, the judge rapped his gavel and ruled Lester Bardner released on five hundred thousand bail.

She walked from the courthouse across the boulevard to the police station and the city jail to give Lester the good news—assuming a bail bond of half a million was no problem. He was delighted, but his attitude seemed to be that he expected to be released and deserved it.

“Lester, you’re sitting there smiling and happy because for some strange reason you think you’re free. You will shortly be out of police custody but still under arrest. You do understand that don’t you? You’re temporarily out on bail. You’ve been charged with second-degree murder and face spending much of the rest of your life in prison, unless I can convince a jury, without any help from you I might add, to ignore what you have been videotaped doing. The prosecutor will ask the jury who they believe, my words or their own eyes on the video. So you need to begin helping me.”

She tried to take advantage of his elated mood, but further questions about his actions before and after the fatal encounter with Coleman, yielded nothing particularly useful for his defense. Putting up the money to obtain the bond was not an issue for him, and she gave him the names of bail bondsmen. She explained it would take a few hours before he was in fact released. And she would keep on it. She didn’t wait around for a thank you. It likely wouldn’t occur to him.

She was eager to give Martin the news and phoned as she was leaving the jail. He and Nigel were ready with triumphant greetings when she got back to the office. She immediately huddled with Martin to consider various strategies for the defense considering the new angles. The punishment for a second-degree conviction could still be a long sentence, although life imprisonment and the death penalty were now off the table. They realized the state attorney could reinstate the first-degree charge at any time if the evidence so dictated.

The atmosphere in the law office had unquestionably improved. Having the charge reduced and having their client released from custody lifted a tremendous load of worry. Nigel set to work researching the background of the victim, Ben Coleman. They didn’t yet know if the police had discovered any connection between him and Lester or any motive for the killing. All they knew was the low-life hood came up from Miami Beach two weeks ago for some reason, and got himself killed quite possibly by an affluent, playboy-wannabe. Sandy would concentrate on investigating Julia and Lester as she felt both were being excessively evasive and deceptive. Meanwhile, Martin would do the research on the latest in the Stand Your Ground law.

Nigel asked him, “What’s special about that defense in Florida?”

“In brief,” Martin began, “a person may justifiably use force in self-defense without an obligation to retreat. In most states, the doctrine applies only when defending your home or vehicle. In Florida it can be any location.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Nigel said, “but in this case victim Coleman was sitting in his car minding his own business when our client confronted him. Coleman seems to be the one who is defending himself, not Lester. What do you do when faced with that?”

She spoke up, “That’s when we start earning our money. Stand Your Ground would be a dandy defense, almost certain to divide any jury. However, you’re correct, the facts in our case would have to be massaged to make them fit.”

“I have something else here under the heading of old business,” Nigel began, “after working on that video evidence, I spent some time checking out the guy who’s offering Holly Davies fifty thousand to marry him. Is this a bad time?”

“No, I’m eager to hear your report,” Martin said. “Although, I must say I’m expecting the worst.”

“It
is
the worst because there’s nothing there. Holly says his name is Bruce Fowler, and I can’t even verify that. Can’t find an address. No phone. That name has been used as an alias around the country, nothing locally. If I’m checking on the correct guy, he’s thirty-years-old, his father is a long time dead electrician. I can’t locate the mother. He started at Colorado State University but dropped out. Don’t know what he was doing out there. Maybe he grew up out west. Never married. No criminal record. The guy’s a mystery. She thinks the guy might be a photographer or something. I found nothing in that area. No Florida employment history at all, I haven’t checked all the other states yet, so possibly he
is
a trust fund baby. I don’t know about the existence of any trust fund—how do I go about checking that?”

“You often can’t check for such a trust, most likely no public record. Okay, print out what you have for me.”

“I have Holly’s number, can I ask her to get more information?”

“Not yet. If he’s a bad guy she might accidentally tip him off. I’ll ask about him around town. If his family is established, someone will know them, and I can put her out of my mind. If he remains a mystery, then I have to do something other than worry about her.” He noticed Sandy was frowning.

C
harlene Faulk walked in just as Nigel started to close down his computer. She wore a figure hugging creme and black tunic over black leggings, and if she could read lips, she’d know he had just said, wow. She leaned over to him, her long, straight blonde hair swaying, and whispered, “I thought you might call me.”

He stood to get a better look at her. Stunning. Had she upgraded her appearance for him? He said, “I stared at your number for a while last night. But was nervous about calling.” Stupid thing to say.

“When may I see you?” she whispered.

Had she really said those words? Instead of telling her how amazing she looked, he forced himself to say, “We’re so busy right now I can’t do lunches, and I’m working late.” He was reluctant to tell her he was forbidden to socialize with her.

“Look, stop thinking about dinners and movies,” she said, “just give me your number? I promise not to call you more than once an hour. We’ll talk. Get acquainted. We can plan a date later, okay?”

Her words were floating around like fluffy clouds in a blue summer sky. In spite of Sandy’s admonition to not socialize, nothing could have kept him from staring into her cool green eyes and saying, okay. He said okay again to be sure she had heard him. He was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. Unwittingly he touched his hand to his cheek and said, “I hope everything is all right with you.”

“Any day my name’s not in the paper is a good day.” She showed him the slip of paper in her hand. “I’ve got some dirt on Mrs. Bardner. Has sort of a sexy angle to it.”

“Martin is handling your affairs.” He knocked on Martin’s door, ushered Charlene in and returned to his desk. He must think of something clever to say to her when she left, so he could look into those eyes again.

Twenty minutes later, after Charlene had left, Sandy walked down the hall to Martin’s office. “What was that all about?”

“She thought she had some hot news,” he said. “It’s not hot, but it is interesting. It seems she drove past Bardner’s house last night—God knows why—and noticed a big car in the driveway with the motor running as though waiting for someone to get out. She knew it wasn’t Lester’s car. She crept closer and saw a couple in a compromising circumstance.”

“What the hell was she doing out there?” she snickered. “And making out, is what they call it these days.”

“Yes, those were the words Charlene used, although I'm not actually sure what is within the limits of that phrase,” he said. “She’s certain the woman was Julia Bardner, however the man had his head down and Charlene couldn’t see his face.”

“Perhaps he was innocently listening to Julia’s heartbeat. It’s difficult in a car without a stethoscope.”

“Charlene took it as more of parting clinch. The man turned and looked straight at her, and she hurried away. Said she didn’t recognize him.”

“I wonder if he recognized her.”

“In any case, she said she always thought Lester was handing her a line when he told her he wasn’t getting along with his wife. But now it seems both Lester and Julia are cheating.”

Nigel stepped in the doorway waving a note. “The vehicle Charlene saw parked in Bardner’s driveway was a new Lincoln, registered to a Grant Keller.”

“And just how do you know that?” Martin asked.

“Charlene had the license number in her hand when she came in. I told her I’d better make a note of it. I found the address for Keller, do you want it?”

“Don’t bother.” She and Martin exchanged glances. “We both know Grant Keller. He’s a prominent lawyer around here, president of our county bar association this year.”

“Yes, and he’s considering running for the Florida Senate—also married. I saw the four of them recently having dinner at the club—Keller and his wife, Julia and Lester.”

“Merely a get together of one of today’s modern extended families, you and your lover, your wife and her lover, plus any ex-wives or ex-husbands that happen to be around—and their lovers. All that’s missing is a wife in love with her ex-husband’s mistress.”

Martin said, “An interesting bit of information to file in the back of our heads.”

“I’ve already noted it in the computer file,” Nigel said. “Did you ever notice her eyes?”

Sandy gave him a blank look.

“Charlene… her eyes are magical. Very sultry and sensual.”

“That’s nice.” She lifted one eyebrow and turned back to Martin. “I really don’t like Charlene being over there at the Bardner house, snooping around, copying down license numbers.”

“Of course, I admonished her about that,” Martin said. “She mentioned that since we were helping her, she thought she’d try to help us. She was surprised when I told her Lester was being released on bail. I told her if she wanted to help, she should stay away from him. She said she wanted nothing to do with the guy.”

“The more I consider Julia Bardner and Grant Keller as a couple, the more I wonder why she hired me. She was already cozy with Keller and had never met me,” Sandy said. “I know Keller doesn’t do any criminal defense work himself, but someone in his high-powered circle certainly does.”

“Well, for starters, people might start talking if he appeared too close to her. The less you’re seen with your secret lover the better. You’re correct, Keller doesn’t do defense work or trial work himself. He’s busy trying to build his real estate empire. Owns a lot of properties around town already. Even so, he better be more careful about running around with Julia, if he’s thinking about running for office.”

Nigel left to see who had just entered the office then reappeared in the doorway. “That Kyle Botting is here again,” he said. “I should get rid of him, I suppose?”

“I’ll get rid of him… send him in.”

K
yle Botting stood leaning against Sandy’s office door smiling. “I found a place to stay, spent some time at the beach, looked around town a little and now—.”

“Well, look at you today—white shorts, sandals and a good start on a tan.” In truth, he looked appealing. “So, you’re ready to party. You need to find someone who’s also on vacation. I’ll do this... I’ll give you the name of a couple places where you can meet young women. Come in and close the door.”

“In this town the beach might be all a guy needs. I met two friendly beauties there wearing not much more than a suntan. Not my type, however.” He sat opposite her. “I was hoping by this time you’d become infatuated with me again. You don’t work twenty-four hours. When do you have fun?”

“We had our fun, Kyle. Fun is fun and done is done.”

“You were working hard in Philly, as I remember. You were heavily focused on your field investigator job with that law firm and your studies. When I first saw you I thought, why does she walk around looking fabulous like that when she’s not available?”

Apparently, he didn’t realize
she
had spotted
him
before he noticed her. He was one of those guys you find an excuse to smile at. “I didn’t move in with you to have relations.”

“Not quite true. You told me later you were lonely. That’s code for going without.”

“That’s true.” She laughed. “At that time in my life, if it weren’t for getting my ass touched in the Philadelphia subway, I wouldn’t have had any sex life at all.”

“I was proud to help you out.”

“Well, I wasn’t desperate just needed a place to stay.”

“Yeah, when you called me for a second date, you asked to see my apartment.”

“I called you? No, you called me.”

“Whatever,” he said. “You sneaked a look in my closets to see if there was room for your stuff and proceeded to make me a roommate offer no sane male would ever refuse. You didn’t have two dimes, let alone two months rent, plus deposits. You needed a place to crash, where you didn’t have to worry about bothersome details like landlords and utility bills.”

“
My roommate was getting married, and her boyfriend was moving in. I had to get out. It was your apartment or my car.”

“And my apartment was slightly larger.”

“I always thought your one-bedroom apartment was quite nice. Small kitchen, yet the living room was good sized and had that overstuffed chair with a nice lamp for studying.”

“Get real, Sandy, you knew there was only a king bed. You're not naive. You knew sex was inevitable sooner or later, and you were checking me out.”

“
I wasn’t sizing you up as a sex partner. I was sizing up your apartment and seeing if you lived like a slob.”

“At first, I was worried about sharing a bathroom with a woman. But, you never needed much time in the morning to look good.”

“If you have any more great lines like that, get them out now because I’m busy and your time is up.” She saw his expression going sour. She was being too rough considering a year of intimacy with him. “Okay, we weren’t lovers, but we both wanted the company.
Let’s say we were roommates with benefits.
I gave you my part of the rent. I grocery shopped when I had time. I put stuff on your shelf in the fridge, didn’t I?”

“That was to replace the stuff you stole from me.”

“To tell the truth, I didn’t expect to stay there very long. I was thinking you could have the bedroom for yourself, and I’d sleep on the couch until I found a permanent place,” she said.

“Right, as soon as you moved in, you told me to stay out of your way. All you wanted was a safe place to sleep. You bedded down on the couch the first night, and within an hour came in and got in bed beside me. Three days later, since I hadn’t bothered you yet, you started sleeping in the nude.”

“Now that is pure male hallucination!”

“And your warm bare leg would wander across the invisible center line.” He paused for a moment reliving the thought. “Later, you told me you never worried about what you faced when you came in the front door or slipped into bed beside me.”

“I was so busy trying to juggle my job and my law school studies. Didn’t have time for relationships, for dating, phone calls and arguments, getting glammed up, coming home late, missing sleep. Between working hard and going to classes, I had enough hassles. I simply wanted to get home and go to bed.” She closed her eyes and was back in Philly for an instant. “I would hope you’d be there, so I didn’t have to worry about anything. Sharing a bed was the easy part.”

“Not to mention, sex if you wanted it. I could be wrong, but it sounds like a relationship to me. Sometimes when you came in late, you’d wake me up for sex.”

“Didn’t happen. I never woke you for sex.”

“Well, you’d make noise and bang around until I woke up.”

“You preferred it in the morning. Only maniacs and newlyweds can handle sex in the morning,” she grinned.

“You see what I had to put up with.” He put on a sour face. “At least I never woke you for sex,”

“Yeah, what was wrong with you?” They laughed together. It was a joke, but as she recalled, he had never bothered her for sex. Invariably, he sensed when her work day had been too much, when she needed space or quiet for study. Was it simply his normal character or something stronger? She was too harried to think about it back then.

“Kyle, I never said it wasn’t good. Even so, I know what you’re hinting at. Just because I cut out, almost in the middle of the night without saying goodbye, doesn’t mean I owe you one.” She noticed him raising his eyebrows. “Well, maybe I do, but you’re not going to get it. It’s not as though we’re two lovers now reuniting.”

“We could pretend we were.”

“You’re fantasizing us hopping in bed just because you’re down here on vacation. I’m sorry, Kyle, you don’t get some sort of lifetime pass just because you’ve already been there. What makes you think I’m not heavily involved with someone?”

“If that’s the case, then I’m happy for you and I don’t fit in—and I’m out of here.” He gave her one of his light-up-the-room smiles. “Okay, forget the Goodbye-Sex we never had, forget the Hello-Old-Friend Sex we’ll never have. Let’s just have a farewell dinner to tie the ribbons on what will go down, at least in my mind, as ‘The Great Philadelphia Affair.’”

“Okay, you’ve seduced me into dinner, but that’s all—and not tonight. I have a feeling things are about to explode around here.”

Nigel came to the doorway and in a loud whisper said. “I hate to interrupt, Miss Reid, Mr. Shapiro is on line-one. Sounds important.” She smiled, wondering if Nigel had devised a way to listen to their entire conversation. She stood. “That’s it, Kyle. Later.”

She rested her hand on the phone, watching him walk into the hallway. She remembered how he always walked straight as a rod. Trim and looking fine. And she couldn’t help noticing how tight his white shorts fit him across the rear—just as cute as she remembered.

She picked up the phone. Mel said, “Something’s come up and we need to talk. Can you come on over? I don’t want to talk about it on the phone.”

“Why is your phone tapped?” she asked.

“No, but yours might be.”

“Tell me what it’s about, so I can be prepared.”

“Not over the phone.”