Justice Served: A Barkley and Parker Thriller (16 page)

“Whatever else you can say about the man,”
chirped Nina, “he sure has good taste in a home, and obviously the
money to back it up.”

“Not too surprising,” Ray said, pulling into
the driveway, “considering the dude’s starting to come into his own
as one of the top African-American criminal defense attorneys in
the Rose City. Think I read that he got married a little while
back.”

“Well whoop-tee-do,” Nina hummed, trying to
sound unimpressed, though she was anything but. “Let’s just see if
he has any skeletons in his closet, shall we?”

On their way up to the house, they studied
the car that could have possibly been driven by a killer. It looked
like it had been recently washed and otherwise showed no signs of
damage or indication of where it might have been. Inside, there was
an overcoat thrown haphazardly over the front seat and a newspaper
folded neatly on the back seat, alongside a briefcase.

“What do you think?” Nina asked.

Ray shrugged. “I think if this is the BMW
that fled from the scene of the crime, we may have our work cut out
for us proving it.”

The ring of the doorbell brought an immediate
response, almost as if they were expected. Nina saw in the entrance
a tall, fit, dark-skinned man with a short, gleaming Afro. She
guessed he was in his late thirties. He stood mute in a gray
designer suit and wing-tipped leather shoes, his coal eyes wide
with anticipation.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a deep
voice.

“Are you Stuart Wolfe?” Nina asked.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I’m Detective Parker,” she said. “And this
is Detective Barkley. We’re with the Portland Police Bureau,
Homicide Division. I wonder if we could ask you a few
questions?”

A thick brow cocked. “What’s this about?”

Nina looked up at him. “We’re investigating a
homicide in which a BMW fitting your car’s description was seen
leaving the scene.”

Stuart grimaced. “What? You’re joking,
right?”

Ray stepped forward with pursed lips. “This
is no joke, man.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of black Mercedes
in Portland,” Stuart said.

“Yeah,” allowed Ray, “but not many that have
plates with SLW on them—”

Stuart showed no sign of nervousness. “I
see,” he said equably. “Come in...”

They went to his study, bypassing several
impressively furnished, architecturally fascinating, sizable rooms
along the way. Stuart offered the detectives a seat on a leather
couch, and sat across from them on a matching loveseat.

“I would offer you a beer or something,”
Stuart told his guests curtly, “but I’m sure you don’t drink on
duty.”

“Right on that one,” Nina said tersely,
adding, for effect: “Thanks anyway.”

Ray watched the attorney thoughtfully.

Stuart furrowed his brow. “I actually thought
customizing my plate to reflect my initials would make it
distinctive—though certainly not like this.”

“Oh, your initials are not all that common,”
she pointed out. “That’s the problem we’re having here...”

“So what murder are we talking about?” asked
Stuart straightforwardly, casting his gaze directly at Ray.

“The victim is a man named Blake Wallace,” he
told him, sure the dude was already on top of it.

Stuart reacted. “The businessman who was
beaten to death with a bat?”

The detectives exchanged glances before Ray
replied: “Yeah, that’s him.”

Stuart sighed. “Since you obviously did your
homework before coming here, I’m sure you know I’m a criminal
attorney. Blake Wallace was being represented by one of the
partners in my law firm during his trial for domestic assault.”

Nina and Ray again looked at each other with
surprise, not anticipating this angle.

“Actually that little tidbit had escaped our
attention,” Ray admitted, almost to himself. But it did connect the
dots a little more between the attorney and Blake Wallace.

Stuart seemed unfazed by this. “Well, it’s
pretty irrelevant, as far as I’m concerned. I had nothing to do
with Wallace’s case. And as for my car being at the murder scene,
you obviously picked the
wrong
BMW with the partial license
number SLW. I wasn’t anywhere near that location that night.” He
set his jaw. “I gave a lecture at Portland State University, which
I do on occasion, from seven to ten. I believe Wallace was killed
within that time frame. There were about a hundred and fifty or so
students who can vouch for my presence—”

“You drove your car that night?” Nina asked,
peering at him.

“Yes,” Stuart said confidently.

Ray allowed his eyes to wander thoughtfully,
settling on a walnut bookcase filled with law books, before
returning to the man on the hot seat.

“Any other drivers in the house?”

“My wife, Vivian,” he responded
effortlessly.

Ray regarded Nina and back again. “Could she
have driven your car that night?”

“Not a chance,” Stuart said coolly. “Vivian
never
drives my car, especially when I have it. Besides, she
has her own car.”

“And what type of car would that be?” asked
Nina.

“A white Lexus.”

The detectives seemed reasonably satisfied
for now.

“I think we’ve taken up enough of your time,
Mr. Wolfe,” Ray said half apologetically. The other half would come
once the attorney had been completely exonerated.

“No problem, man,” Stuart said in a friendly,
calm voice. “I understand you have a job to do. I think we’ll all
feel a lot better when you catch whoever it is that’s targeting
these men.”

Nina fixed the attorney with soulful,
inquisitive eyes as he led them to the front door. “Your
wife—Vivian—wouldn’t happen to be around, would she?”

Stuart met her gaze head on and said
excitedly: “Actually she’s at the doctor. We’re expecting our first
child early next year!”

Nina smiled slightly and made herself say:
“Congratulations.”

Outside, the detectives considered the
suspect.

“His alibi for that night should be easy
enough to verify,” said Ray. “Personally, I don’t think our lawyer
had anything to do with Blake Wallace’s murder, aside from the law
firm connection, which seems to be pretty weak at best.”

“What about his wife?” Nina wondered out
loud. “Show me a guy who says his wife never drives his car and
I’ll show you one who drives it all the time.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Nina. You don’t
seriously believe our killer is a pregnant woman, do you?”

Nina thought about it, unwilling to rule
anything out, no matter how unlikely. But common sense kicked in.
There was simply no evidence at this point to support the notion
the killer was with child. Not that such evidence would necessarily
easily manifest itself, particularly if she was still in the early
stages of pregnancy. But it still didn’t seem too likely. The rage
with which the victims were savagely attacked suggested a killer
with only one main focus, leaving little room for the pursuit of
motherhood.

“No, I don’t,” she told Ray candidly. “I
guess that lets these two off the hook...at least for now.”

One by one they paid a visit to the list of
suspects. In each case the potential perpetrators either had solid
alibis, or were otherwise eliminated from contention.

The hot trail had once again grown cold and
old and the detectives found themselves practically back to square
one in their search for a killing machine.

They had no reason to believe the person had
run out of malice or mayhem.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Stuart told
Carole, an irregular crease lining his brow.

He had literally cornered her on the side of
the building as Carole left the Criminal Court Plaza during a
recess of the trial she presided over.

“That’s not true,” she lied. “I’ve just been
really busy, Stuart.”

He sighed. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Carole.
You don’t return my calls. You don’t call me. What’s up?”

What was up? Carole had to ask herself.

She thought about Ray Barkley. He had entered
her life unexpectedly and seemed to occupy her thoughts more than
she cared to admit. They had managed to dodge a rough patch of road
and seemed well on their way to something wonderful.

Her fears about them being together had
subsided for now and she was content to let this thing play out and
see what happened.

As for Stuart, Carole no longer saw the point
in giving him her time. After all, now that she had Ray in her life
there was simply no need to hang onto someone who had already moved
on to another woman. A pregnant one at that! They would only end up
interfering in each other’s private affairs, something she didn’t
want to see stand in the way of her potential relationship with
Ray.

Besides, Carole was still somewhat peeved
that Stuart had decided to let his wife in on the particulars of
her life, as if it were his right. She feared he had divulged far
more than he should have. Or still could.

She gazed at him. “I think we should just
cool this friendship thing for a while,” she told him gently.

His eyes darted from side to side, as if
watching a tennis match. “You want to tell me why?”

She sighed. Why did he always have to make
things so hard for her? For himself? “I’m seeing someone—”

Stuart nodded. “I see. So that’s what this is
all about—”

Carole’s eyes narrowed at him. “Actually, if
you want the truth, it’s about you opening your big mouth too much
with your wife.”

Stuart looked shocked. “What the hell are you
talking about?”

“Vivian seems to know a lot more about me and
my courtroom than I’m comfortable with” she said bluntly. “My life
is not an open book for you to share with your wife without my
permission, Stuart.”

He colored. “I’m sorry, baby. It only seemed
natural to talk about us after what we had.”

“I’m not talking about
us
,” Carole
pointed out. “I’m talking about
me,
dammit—” She could feel
her heart pounding as if trying to escape from her chest.

Stuart put his hands on Carole’s shoulders
and stared into her eyes. “Listen to me, Carole,” he said with a
sense of urgency, “I may have mentioned some peculiarities
regarding your courtroom and the recent crime wave hitting this
city, but that’s about it and is certainly not an indictment of
you. I would never tell Vivian or anyone else anything about you
that’s strictly between us.”

Carole read the sincerity in his eyes. She
felt her breathing return to normal and her blood pressure
lower.

Maybe she had overreacted. Presumed the worst
without sufficient proof to back it up. Wasn’t that the first thing
she had been taught in law school: innocent until proven guilty?
Not that she felt for one minute Stuart was totally without fault.
After all, she suspected he had still shared more with Vivian about
her than she would have liked. But apparently he hadn’t shared the
secrets she had most entrusted him with.

“I believe you,” Carole said. She put her
hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Sorry for jumping on you like
that. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. And I mean
that.”

Stuart’s face brightened. “No need to thank
me, Carole. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Yes,” she yielded, forcing a smile. “That’s
what friends are for.”

“Besides, Vivian is just starting to like
you,” he remarked. “She thinks you are one
cool
judge. How
would it look if you suddenly made yourself scarce?”

“Probably not too good.” Carole recognized
that Vivian would likely need a friend even more at this delicate
time in her life with a baby on the way. It looked like she had
been elected to fill the role.

“Exactly.” Stuart brushed his nose with the
tip of his thumb. “So, can I buy you lunch? You can tell me all
about your new boyfriend.”

Carole felt a twinge of uncertainly course
through her veins.
Boyfriend?
Had her relationship with Ray,
if that’s what this really was, reached that level where he could
be called her boyfriend? And she his girlfriend?

She contemplated whether or not dating Ray
could withstand the pressures of their conflicting and tumultuous
careers. Her past and deep regrets. And his life and times before
he met her.

Carole moistened her lips as Stuart waited
for an answer. She would have preferred to eat alone, if the truth
be told. She was not particularly in the mood for company. At least
not his company. But she decided to go for it, if only for old
times’ sake. And because she knew it was probably a good thing to
keep him on her side.

“You’re on for lunch,” she told him. “As long
as we stay away from my personal life.”

He smiled disingenuously. “Whatever you say,
Your Honor.”

* * *

“Ray Barkley—” voiced Stuart loudly over a
mug of beer. “He wouldn’t happen to be
Detective
Barkley,
would he?”

Carole’s eyes widened. He had slyly brought
her “boyfriend” into the conversation, compelling her to set the
record straight.

“You know Ray?” she asked incredulously.
Usually criminal defense attorneys and homicide detectives didn’t
mix very well.

“In a manner of speaking.” Stuart looked at
her, frowning. “The man showed up at my house this morning, with
his partner—”

“Oh...?” Carole found her curiosity more than
a little piqued. Why would Ray and Detective Parker pay Stuart a
visit?

“Apparently a car with a license plate that
partially matched mine was seen leaving the crime scene the night
Blake Wallace was murdered.” Stuart stiffened. “They wanted to know
the whereabouts of my BMW at the time. Can you believe that?”

Carole watched him shake his head in dismay.
She kept her cool as she asked: “What did you tell them?”