-1Hey Guys,
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Chapter Seven
August 22nd 0900
"He's offered a deal." Julie leaned back in her chair, watching Joanna Rossi over the top of her folded fingers. The woman looked drained, her eyes dark and haunted. "Murder two."
"Murder two?" Jessica gripped her mother's hand tightly, her voice clipped and angry. "You cant possibly…."
"What does that mean, Ms. Phelps?"
Julie sighed. "It means jail time, Joanna. At least ten years, although I doubt if you'd serve anywhere near the full term."
"Is it a good deal?"
"It will spare you a trial, spare you from having to relive all of this in court." She hesitated, unwanted memories rushing through her. "But it means that no one gets to hear your side of the story. You'll be judged on his."
"You can't take the deal, Ma." Jessica shook her head, almost desperate. "You can't! He's not worth that much time. He's done enough to hurt you already. You cant let him win again."
"We've got a strong case, Joanna. Jim Steele's running scared. He's got a shaky case and he knows it. If we put up a strong enough fight, he might come back with a better offer."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then we go to trial. There's every chance that all charges will be dropped."
"And a good chance that my mother will go to jail for murdering that bastard."
"If she takes the deal, she'll definitely go to jail." Julie met Jessica's gaze evenly. "I can beat Jim Steele."
"You didn't last time."
Her smile turned bitter. "Times change, Jessica."
"What about my son?" Joanna cut across them a distracted air.
"One of my associates is meeting with him this morning. We're hopeful that we can work out a deal for him. What do you want to do, Joanna?"
"You think I should fight this?"
"I do."
"Then we'll fight." Joanna Rossi blew a breath between pursed lips, looking around the table for reassurance that she had made the right decision. "Tell Jim Steele we don't want the deal."
xxxXXXxxx
"Who are you?"
She stood up as he was brought into the room. "Mr. Rossi, my name is Michelle Sinclair, from Sinclair and Associates. We've been retained to represent you and your mother."
He sat down opposite her, massaging his wrists as the guard left the room, closing the door after him. "Did Jess hire you?"
"Yes." She sat down, fidgeting nervously, playing with her pen. "I need to ask you some questions, Mr. Rossi. Is that okay?"
"Okay."
"How long were your parents married?"
Jason laughed bitterly. "A lot longer than they should have been." He sobered rapidly, running his hand across his hair with tight jerking motions. "A lot longer than Jess wanted them to be."
"Did they argue a lot?"
"Not so much arguing." Jason ran his hand through his hair again, the same tight, restrained gesture. "Ma never stood up to him, not until…." He shrugged, shifting uncomfortably. "He just picked her apart."
"What did he do?"
"Is that important?"
Michelle nodded. Julie's instructions had been very clear. She wanted to be able to paint a picture of a bullying abusive husband if it came to trial.
"He just picked on her. Took the piss out of her. Made her feel like a piece of shi, ya know? And she took it. Christ, it drove Jess mad!"
"Did he ever hit her?"
"Yeah." His laugh was empty, riddled with guilt and self loathing. "Yeah, he used to hit her."
xxxXXXxxx
"Counsellor."
"Detective Messer." Jim opened the door carefully, balancing a stack of files and his coffee cup. "Have a seat." He flicked the door of the office shut behind them with his foot and walked behind his desk, finding space on his overcrowded desk for the files. "I need your statements from the Rossi homicide, plus all the forensic evidence you have."
Danny nodded. "We should have everything wrapped up by the end of the week."
"Good." Jim took a mouthful of coffee, grimacing at the bitter, acrid taste. It was already too hot in his office, the air thick and humid. "I'm going to need that evidence if it goes to trial."
He was going to need that evidence, in case Julie Phelps had another trick up her sleeve.
"You think it's going to go to trial."
"She shot her husband, Danny. We've got to follow the evidence, you know that." He shifted, uncomfortably in his seat, using his coffee cup as a shield. "I'm hoping it wont go to trial. We've offered her a deal."
"Is she going to go for it?"
Jim shrugged, picked up his pen and opened a file, starting to read through the statement by Detective Baldwin, conscious of Danny sitting opposite him. "Something on your mind, Danny?"
"Counsellor…"
He looked up, eyes dark with anger and frustration. Danny fell silent and looked away from him, shaking his head. "I need your statement and the paperwork by Friday, Detective." Jim pointed at the office door with his pen. "And tell Detective Munroe I need hers as well."
xxxXXXxxx
July 25th
Where was he going to put it?
He could hear them downstairs, hear the low rumble of conversation, the under current of tension and menace in his father's voice, the tremble of tension in his mothers.
He had seen the faint bruise on his mother's cheek that even make up couldn't conceal.
He didn't have much time.
He could feel it, hidden at the small of his back, pressed against his skin.
Looking around, frantic, panicked. Its weight threatening to expose itself, expose him.
Where was he….
There.
He opened the drawer and pulled it out from underneath his light jacket, weighing it carefully in his hand. It was heavier than he had expected, a dead weight in the palm of his hand.
He wondered what it would be like to fire.
Raised voices from downstairs cut through his thoughts. Glancing guiltily over his shoulder, he tucked it under some clothes at the back of the drawer, rearranging the clothes over the top of it, and shoved the door closed.
He straightened, adjusting his jacket, taking another look around the empty room, listening to his parents in the room below.
He'd make sure she wasn't at home when he came back for it.
xxxXXXxxx
He fell silent, watching her as she wrote, her pen scratching across the page.
"I think that's all for now, Jason." She scanned the page and handed it across to him. "If you could just read that and sign it for me."
"Have you got a pen?"
Face flushed, she handed him her pen, watching as he signed his statement without reading it.
"What about my mother?"
"She's been released to your sister's custody." Michelle took the page off him and glanced at it, making sure he had signed it in the right place. "We've got a strong case and this will help us a lot. Thank you."
"What about me?"
"I don't know." She stood up, lifting her briefcase. "I'll have to talk to my boss."
xxxXXXxxx
"Where is he?" Baldwin flashed his shield at the bartender, while Clarke looked around the bar.
"Over there."
"Thanks." Baldwin glanced at his partner and they walked across to the table, footsteps echoing around the mostly empty bar, spreading out to stand either side of him.
"And what can I do for you, gentlemen?"
"We've got some questions for you."
xxxXXXxx
"What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to do some digging, Sam. I want to know what sort of man Joseph Rossi was. Where he drank. Who his friends were. What his debts were. Look at the cops and the CSIs as well, see if there's anything we can use to discredit their testimony."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah." Julie's eyes glittered in amusement. "I want to know how Jim Steele is."
End of Chapter Seven
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