Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Oscar," Jack Hansen sighed, "we've already taken your statement. We know you were there – and that you saw Marchetti. What else could you possibly have to tell us?"
"How about the rest of the story?" Oscar said grimly. "What I told you was the truth. I did see Michael. When he told me he wanted to talk to Jaime – and that she was coming to see him – I decided to stick around. I was only talking to the guards to stall for time."
"And why is that?" Trudeau asked.
"I know Jaime, and I know that if Michael was able to reach her and he manipulated things just right, Jaime would find a way to see him – hell or high water. All he had to do was play on her emotions...and I was certain he did," Oscar explained. "I was about to leave when I saw Steve, with Jaime right behind him. I walked back toward the office because I knew the guards would follow me – and I kept them busy long enough for Jaime to visit with her husband."
"Now why would you do that?" Trudeau probed. "Knowing what a danger he could be to her?"
"Like I said, I know Jaime. I knew she wouldn't be able to rest – to let this go – without some form of closure. She has a good head on her shoulders and is fully capable of defending herself -"
"To the point of murder," Trudeau grumbled. "She should be in a cell right next to Austin's."
Oscar shook his head. "I thought she'd be okay. I was certain she'd be okay...."
"What happened next?" Russ asked gently.
"I kept one eye on the hallway because I knew Steve was right around the corner. When I saw him head for Michael's cell, I led the guards outside. I waited in my car until I saw Steve pull out of the back of the lot, then...I went back inside."
"You went back in!" Trudeau sputtered. "Why weren't we informed of that when we talked to Security?"
Oscar shrugged. "Maybe you didn't ask the right person." He took a deep, steadying breath and then calmly related the rest. "The guards were just about at the end of their shift when I went to Michael's cell. The door was closed, but the lock was in pieces, so I opened it. Michael was on the floor; his neck was broken. I leaned down and checked him – there was no pulse. He was definitely gone."
"And of course, you notified Security immediately," Trudeau said in a voice that oozed sarcasm.
"No. I didn't. I went to the Security office and told Michael's guard that I had looked in on him and everything was fine. Saved him the trouble of doing a shift-change prisoner check."
"That's why the death wasn't reported until morning," Hansen deduced.
"Right."
Trudeau frowned and began to pace furiously. "So you not only covered up a death – you aided and abetted the murderers!"
Oscar shrugged. "You could say that. Or you could say that I made sure justice was served to someone who thoroughly deserved it, in order to protect someone who truly deserves to be safe."
Before any of the Suits could react to that statement, Trudeau's intercom buzzed urgently. "Private messenger, Mr. Trudeau," his secretary chirped. "He needs to make a delivery into your hands only."
"Send him in." Trudeau signed for the small, thin package and sent the messenger on his way before tearing open the envelope. He looked up at the others. "Gentlemen....the autopsy report is here."
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