KNOW THINE ENEMY
Chapter 6
With the Ford in their garage, and trace from the victim, it wasn't hard to prove. Horatio went back to Frank.
"She knocked him down."
"You're sure?"
"Oh, I'm sure. There's his blood up on the hood, and bits of the car's paint in the guy's legs. No way was he already lying in the road."
Frank stood up. "I'd better go and bring her in then. She lives out in the wilds somewhere…" He turned up a piece of paper. "'Peace Farm'."
"I hope she's still there."
"Hey, we didn't have enough to hold her last night, man! Anyway, why should she run? She had an accident, that's all." He frowned at Horatio. "You think there's more to this?"
Horatio sighed. "I don't know, Frank. Probably not. She probably lied because she was frightened. I told you – I'm a bit sensitive about hit-and-runs. I expect I'm looking for connections where there are none."
Frank shrugged. "Can't blame you for that. Do you want to interview her?"
"No, you do it."
"Okay, see you later."
Horatio returned to his office, made coffee, and sat at his desk, nursing the mug, deep in thought. If there was a connection, then it meant that Joseph Johnson was connected… to something… The man had no record. He supposed it was possible he had appeared in some court case… witness, maybe… He pulled out his list of Judge Westbrook's cases, and scanned down the names again. No Joseph Johnson. He hadn't really expected there to be.
He looked at the incident report again, and noted that Mr Johnson's next-of-kin was his wife. On an impulse, Horatio called Calleigh.
"Spare me a minute?"
"Of course, boss."
As always, he found his spirits lifted at the sight of his blond ballistics expert, and her warm smile, as she sat down in front of him.
"How are you, boss?"
"Fine. Almost fit again."
"I'm so glad. It frightened me – all of us – that someone could do that to you."
"Well," he smiled, "it frightened me. Anyway, I wondered if you would do a little job for me. It's a bit off-the-record…"
"What do you need?"
He explained about last night's victim. "Logic tells me there's no connection, but my gut's telling me otherwise. Which may, of course, just be over-sensitivity on my part. I want you to talk to his wife – widow."
"And say what?"
"I want it to appear as a normal police thing – how sorry we are, et cetera, investigations continuing. But, if you can get her chatting… I want to know about her husband, what he did for a living and so on. What I want most is to know if he's ever been involved in a court case…"
Calleigh nodded thoughtfully. "Why me?"
Horatio chuckled. "It's sexist, I know, but because you're a woman. More than that, you're someone people find it easy to talk to. Do you mind?"
"No, I'll have a go. It depends if she's the chatty sort. Can I tell her anything about the accident?"
"I haven't even got the ME's report yet. I think it's safe to say we've identified the driver. Other than that… say we'll keep in touch with her. Don't push her – just see what you can get without upsetting her. Don't let her suspect it wasn't just an accident." He smiled ruefully. "Which it may well have been."
"I understand, boss. Give me the address. I'll see what I can do."
Later that day, Horatio wandered down to see how Frank's interview was going. He watched, unseen, but still had no recollection of the woman. Laura McClusky was in tears, protesting her innocence. It was an accident, she was afraid to stop in the middle of the night, she hadn't really meant to lie, she had panicked… Horatio had heard it all before. So had Frank, and he was pushing hard. Horatio left him to it.
It was mid-afternoon before Calleigh returned. She looked pleased with herself.
"You got something?"
"Maybe. Once she started, she wouldn't stop talking. Her husband was in the construction industry. They've been married for thirty-odd years. Grown-up children, and grandkids. At least she won't be alone."
"Calleigh…"
"I'm getting to it." She chided his impatience. "She remembered he was once the jury foreman on a case. She said he hated doing it, but felt it was his duty. She couldn't remember when but she thought about seven years ago. And she didn't know any details, because, apparently, Joseph wouldn't discuss it."
"Well, he's not allowed to."
"I know that. But even afterwards. She said it upset him, because it was a capital case and the jury had to decide whether or not to recommend the death penalty."
"Did they?"
She nodded. "She said he fought against it, but finally went with the majority. She thinks it preyed on his conscience afterwards. Does that help?"
"You bet it does! It makes our connection and there are only going to be a few death penalty cases. Calleigh, you're wonderful!"
"Glad to be of service, boss." She smiled at him.
He rang Frank. "Don't let McClusky go. I'll explain later."
He went back to his lists and pulled out the only four cases where the death penalty had been invoked. He had more trouble obtaining jury records.
The clerk he spoke to sounded bored and unhelpful. "I don't think our records go that far back…"
"They must do. How do you know not to call someone for jury service again?"
"They're selected by computer."
"So the records are on the computer."
"I suppose so."
Horatio's temper snapped. "Are they or aren't they? What's your name?"
"Matthew…"
"Matthew what?"
"Matthew Simpson. Sir," he added as an afterthought.
"Well, Matthew Simpson, I'm going to make it easy for you. I'll give you a name, and I want to know what case he served on and when. Come back to me within five minutes, and I'll overlook your reluctance to help the police." He gave the name.
"It might take longer, Sir. I have to get permission from-"
Horatio cut him off, and went to find Frank, who had returned to his desk.
"She's in holding," the detective said. "Are you going to tell me what this is about?"
"I think I'm establishing a connection between this one and Judge Westbrook. And me."
"Really? Different car… And who's Ms McClusky?"
"No idea, yet. Can we get a search warrant for her place?"
"Horatio! I've got no grounds for one." He thought for a moment. "Look, establish some sort of connection between her and the judge, and I probably can. He was popular. His colleagues won't look too hard before they sign." He chuckled. "Seen that look before."
"What look is that, Frank?" he asked innocently.
"Sort of hunting dog on a scent."
Horatio's cell phone bleeped. "Ah, Mr Simpson…" He signalled to Frank for a pen and paper, and scribbled something down. "Thank you. See? That wasn't so difficult? Fax me confirmation." He listened for a few moments, a slight smirk on his face. "You're off the hook. Just remember – we both serve this city. If a police officer asks for information, it's because he needs it, not just to complicate your life."
"Who's that?" Frank was curious.
"Some obstructive little clock-watcher at the court." He looked at the piece of paper. "Leroy Biggs…"
"Cop killer. We executed him last fall. About time too. He's your connection?"
"Ninety-nine per cent sure. Half an hour, Frank… I'll fill in the gaps and come back to you."
Frank, shaking his head, watched him go.
It took just one more phone call, to the prison, and the visitors' logs, to establish that Laura had been a frequent visitor to the late Leroy Biggs. Horatio grabbed the fax from the machine and went back to Frank.
"Right – Leroy Biggs – Judge Westbrook presided – Joseph Johnson, jury foreman – me, lead CSI. Laura McClusky, girlfriend. Satisfied?"
Frank stood up. "I'll go and arrest her. Want to watch?
TBC