Are We Home Yet?

editors.

Are We Home Yet?

CHAPTER 1

Ian’s tan muscular body was still tangled in her sheets, blue eyes closed in sleep. A trail of clothing, shoes and underwear covered the bedroom floor, while an empty wine bottle and glasses on her bedside table reminded her of last night. Merritt had no idea it would be the last time she’d ever see him there. Nor did she know he would cause her trouble for the rest of her life.

She hurt everywhere, especially there. A shower helped. She could do her makeup at the long light at Central and Camelback.

She kissed him softly on the head, but he barely stirred.

Although her Jaguar had been parked in the garage all night, its thermometer already registered ninety degrees. She threw her suit jacket in the back seat, set the air-conditioning on high and backed out of the driveway. Twenty minutes to get to court, without caffeine.

Luck was on her side; she made it on time with no speeding ticket. Stepping outside into a blast furnace, she grabbed her file and jacket and walked toward the cavernous glass and concrete court building. Some genius architect designed a glass building in Phoenix, Arizona, when daytime summer temperatures rarely fell below one hundred degrees. Brilliant. The desert landscaping was drought-tolerant, but in mid-July, even the purple sage and red yucca looked gray and dusty. Kind of how she felt.

Willie had parked his huge black Escalade under the only tree in the parking lot. He’d be sitting outside the courtroom, ready to greet her with some nasty comment.

A few litigants and attorneys stood outside on the walkway or on the brown grass, smoking. She nodded at those she knew, side-stepping a small lizard scurrying across the hot sidewalk.

In the lobby, purses and backpacks flowed through security scanners like suitcases on an airport conveyer belt. Merritt swiped her attorney’s badge and walked directly to the bank of elevators, crowding into the first open elevator. She blew a loose strand of hair away from her face and glanced down at her feet to see if her shoes were the both the same color. Fortunately, both black.

As expected, Willie was waiting for her in front of the third floor courtroom. He looked neat and clean in his 1978 baby blue leisure suit and brown ankle high boots. Even in this heat, he wore a tattered tweed hat. Probably thought it disguised his meth-pitted face. It didn’t.

What’s with that lady guard downstairs anyway? Weird as hell if you ask me.

Good morning to you too, Willie. What are you talking about?

She was all like, wishing me to have a blessed day. What kind of shit is that? Made me take my hat off too.

"She’s just doing her job, Willie. Maybe she really wanted you to have a blessed day."

Willie glared at Merritt. That’s bull shit. How can I have a blessed day when I have to go to court? And why are you late?

Willie, you’re early. The courtroom door is still closed.

Still, my lawyer should be right on time. We have stuff to talk about.

No we don’t. This is just a prelim. Relax.

Willie stood up, looked at the floor and then leaned over her. This legal shit sucks. I have to get dressed up and go to court and I don’t even get to talk.

"Willie, as I’ve told you, today the prosecutor only has to convince the judge that the State has sufficient evidence against you. Anything you say could probably hurt your case. We want to hear their evidence. The cop might testify to things that didn’t really happen. It happens. We’ll probably lose and a trial date will be set."

He started walking down the hallway but stopped when he saw a deputy guarding the door to the small courthouse jail. With his priors, Merritt thought, Willie should probably be in that jail. But he always had bail money. He wandered back to Merritt.

A garish diamond necklace peaked out from under Willie’s shirt and his Rolex probably cost more than most of the cars in the parking lot. Willie, she said, lose the watch and diamond necklace. Put them in your pocket. If the judge sees all that bling, he might think you can afford to pay for your own attorney. I represent you for free because you are indigent, remember? He glared at her, but removed the jewelry.

Bunch of bullshit. I didn’t even do nothing.

In a few minutes the bailiff opened the courtroom doors. Ms. Lamarre, the judge will be on the bench shortly. I’ll come and get you.

CHAPTER 2

Willie stood in front of her, looking her up and down. You look tired Counselor. Work late last night?

I always work late Willie, as you well know. She glanced at the courtroom’s closed door. Look, Willie, you’re going to lose everything if you keep doing this shit. You will lose your girlfriend, or girlfriends, your kids, your freedom, your health and most likely, the rest of your teeth. Eventually the judge is going to pull the rug out from under you and you will be just one more old man in prison.

I’m not worried Counselor. You’ll get me off. I’m not going to any fucking prison.

Willie, you’ve had two drug convictions, as well as a robbery and an assault conviction. A third drug conviction means mandatory prison.

Hey, I paid my dues for that old shit. They can’t hold that against me.

Yes they can Willie. And you damn well know it. Your criminal record never goes away.

As the bailiff stepped out into the hallway and called them in, Willie whispered, You just do your job Counselor, and I’ll worry about what I might lose. By the way, he added, you look better with your hair down. Great, now he was a beauty expert. He should look in a mirror.

How I look is not your concern Willie. You should be worried about your own ass, not my hair. Take off the hat and turn off your cell phone.

I’ll just put it on vibrate.

Willie, turn it off.

Merritt and Willie sat at the defense table. The prosecutor laid the police report on the table in front of Merritt just as the bailiff said, All rise. She stood up, trying to read the report at the same time. She barely had time to skim the report before the prosecutor put the arresting officer on the stand and began his scripted direct examination. The report hardly mattered anyway. Judges almost always ruled against the defendant anyway at prelims. Even the State didn’t take them seriously. This baby prosecutor probably hadn’t read the report either.

Merritt didn’t have much to go on, but she did her best to get the drug charges dropped. The young cop and his partner had bashed in Willie’s front door without so much as a warning knock or shout. The cop testified he’d received a verbal report of shouting coming from the apartment. They’d just burst in to the apartment. There had been a girl in the apartment, but Willie claimed they had just been having loud sex.

Merritt stood and approached the cop. Hello, Officer Wilhelm, my name is Merritt Lamarre. As you know, Mr. Jones is my client. She delivered her sweetest smile and stood back from the witness box with her arms crossed, staring down at the cop until he finally looked away.

She strolled back to defense table and picked up the police report. Officer Wilhelm, she said, could you please explain to this court why you and your partner bashed in the front door of my client’s home? She walked closer to the witness stand, leaning toward him. She could smell his sweat mixed with drugstore cologne.

The cop tried to look at the prosecutor but she stepped slightly left, placing her body in front of the prosecutor. I’m over here, Officer, Merritt said.

An informant told me there was a lot of noise coming from the apartment and that it sounded like violence inside.

H-m-m, violence. What did this informant tell you this violence sounded like?

The cop looked down at his lap and didn’t answer. The judge said, Officer, there is a question before you. Please answer.

Well, I don’t know, like yelling and stuff being thrown around, things like that.

That sounded like violence?

Our informant said it sounded like violence. Yes, Ma’am.

Officer, did you hear this violent-sounding noise yourself?

No, Ma’am.

So you don’t actually know what your ‘so-called’ informant heard, did you?

No, I don’t.

Officer, is it against the law to yell or throw things in your own apartment?

No Ma’am, but we felt there could be a problem.

"You felt. Officer, isn’t it true that many people yell and throw things once in a while in their homes? Why I’ll bet you and your wife even yell at each other once in a while, don’t you?" She smiled.

His face turned bright red. Merritt couldn’t understand why the prosecutor was not objecting, but what the hell.

I don’t really know what other people do in their homes, Ma’am.

Glaring at the cop she asked, I’ll try again, Sir. Is it against the law to throw things around in your own home?

No, Ma’am.

Is it against the law to yell at people in your home?

No, Ma’am.

Nonetheless, your so called ‘informant’ said he or she heard yelling and things being thrown around and decided that sounded like violence, right?

Yes, Ma’am.

And you believed your informant, even though you hadn’t heard any noise yourself?

Yes, Ma’am.

She walked toward Willie and then turned back to the witness, still standing in front of the prosecutor. She shook her head.

You know my client, Willie Jones, don’t you Officer?

Yes, Ma’am, we know who he is.

You don’t like my client do you?

Objection, relevance.

Well, at least he was awake. Merritt was beginning to wonder.

Sustained. Move along Ms. Lamarre. This is not the trial.

Officer, did you or your partner knock on the door of my client’s home or announce your presence before bashing in his door?

No we didn’t. We thought someone might be getting hurt.

Because of what your informant said?

Right.

Was my client’s door partially open?

No, Ma’am.

Officer, your report states, and you testified, that you had a ‘confidential informant’. Would you please inform this court the name of the informant?

The prosecutor jumped up and objected, Your Honor, that name is confidential.

Cool your jets, Counselor, the judge said. We all know hearsay is admissible if the witness will be available for trial.

What a crock. Merritt knew damn well there was no confidential informant and she doubted there was any violence in that apartment.

Well then, Officer Wilhelm, can you swear to this court that your ‘confidential informant’ will be available for trial?

Yes, she said she would come to the trial.

So, based upon the word of this one person, apparently a female, since you said ‘she’, you and your partner decided to break into my client’s home?

Objection to the phrase ‘break in to’.

Sustained.

Damn judge. He wasn’t letting her have any fun at all.

Your Honor, Merritt said. I only have a few more questions and I believe I have a right to make my record.

Go ahead Ms. Lamarre, but speed it up.

She looked back at Willie, who was leaning back with a stupid grin on his face. She glared at him until he stopped smiling. She turned back to the witness.

Officer, you testified you didn’t hear any of this so called noise yourself, did you?

No, Ma’am.

To your knowledge, did your partner hear any of this so called noise?

No.

If either of you had heard this noise, it would be written down and described in your report, wouldn’t it?

Yes, Ma’am, I suppose so.

The cop shifted around in the witness chair as Merritt positioned herself close enough to see his pale brown eyelashes. Officer, there was no ‘confidential informant’ was there? Beads of sweat formed on his upper lip as he tried to look at the prosecutor. I’m right, aren’t I, Officer Wilhelm? No informant?

There was a confidential informant. We spoke to her.

Sir, Merritt asked softly, when you broke into my client’s home, you didn’t witness any violence did you?

No, Ma’am. We just saw Mr. Jones and a young lady in bed. They were…

Don’t be shy Officer, they were what?

They were making love.

Merritt heard Willie snort from the defense table. ‘Making love’ was not a term Willie would use for what he and his girlfriend were doing.

Anything violent about that?

No Ma’am, but we did see something illegal when we entered the home.

"You mean after you illegally entered my client’s home?"

Objection to the term ‘illegally’.

Amazing. The kid was listening.

Sustained.

Merritt said, Your Honor, I would like to make a record that anything this officer or his partner may have seen in my client’s apartment was the result of an illegal police action, and thus fruit of the poisonous tree. These officers entered my client’s home illegally and had no probable cause to do so.

Duly noted. Ms. Lamarre, can we get this over with?

Ignoring the judge’s comment, she stared at the cop. Officer Wilhelm, you testified that once you entered my client’s home, you did not witness any violence, correct?

No, but I saw what appeared to be marijuana and drug paraphernalia on the defendant’s coffee table.

Merritt stepped closer, leaning over him as far as she could in her highest heels. And?

Then he remembered to say in plain view.

Merritt asked, Would you or your partner have been able to see marijuana or paraphernalia through a closed wooden door?

No, Ma’am.

Once you entered my client’s home did my client say that the marijuana or the paraphernalia belonged to him?

No.

Did you ask him?

Yes, Ma’am.

What did he say?

He said they weren’t his.

You’ve testified there was someone else present in the apartment?

Yes but…

Thank you Officer, you’ve answered my question.

She smiled sweetly at the prosecutor as she strolled back to the defense table and picked up the police report again.

The judge asked, Ms. Lamarre, are we almost finished here?

Yes, Sir. Just a couple more questions.

Well, get it over with, Ms. Lamarre. You are testing the court’s patience.

Merritt was pretty used to testing the court’s patience so she ignored him and continued.

Sir, you testified my client and the young lady were ‘making love’ in my client’s apartment, right?

Yes, that’s what I said.

Were my client and the young lady hitting each other or in any way being violent towards one another during their love-making?

No, we didn’t see anything like that, just…

Just what, Officer?

Well, groaning and laughing, things like that.

Merritt figured she’d gone about as far as she could on that subject.

Officer, did my client resist arrest?

He did not.

Once you were inside my client’s residence, Mr. Jones was polite and cooperative?

Yes.

Did you interview the young lady in Mr. Jones’s apartment?

Yes, I did.

Did she say Mr. Jones was hurting her?

She said she and Willie were having sex.

Did she say anything else?

She said Mr. Jones was not hurting her and they were enjoying the experience.

No further questions. Merritt walked back to the defense table. Willie was smirking. She wrote on the yellow pad, Quit grinning. NOW!

She knew they’d lost the prelim, but at least she’d made a record to use at trial. What a system. She could have phoned it in. The judge found there was probable cause for the cops to enter Willie’s apartment and set the case for trial. Willie leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, smiling at Merritt as if he’d won.

She knew this cop had lied in the report and doubted if their confidential informant would show at trial.

Willie seemed surprised when the judge determined there had been probable cause for the arrest and set a date for trial. His grin was gone. He wrote on the legal pad, A BUNCH OF LYES!!

The lawyers stood when the judge walked out and began gathering their things to leave. She shoved all her papers into her file and Willie handed her back her yellow pad and pen. She intentionally let the pen fall to the floor and left it there. She’d seen Willie chewing on it. The prosecutor closed his shiny new briefcase and walked toward the door. Merritt said, Nice briefcase, Connor. Graduation present? He stormed out the door without a word.

Let’s get out of here, Willie; there are other people waiting for the courtroom.

Okay, but we need to talk trial shit, Counselor. I got lots to tell you. That cop…

I know Willie, he lied. But we’ll have time to go over his testimony later. That will all come out at trial. In the meantime, no drugs – no bad behavior at all. I mean it. The cops will be watching your every move. Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.

Merritt slipped out the lawyers’ escape door, unmarked, where no one could follow without a security card. The door led to the back of the building and down two flights of stairs to an outside door. Despite the heat, it was worth walking around the huge court building to escape Willie. The tips of her heels sunk into the blacktop as she walked toward her car. It was probably over 100 degrees by now. When she reached the front of the building, she looked but didn’t see Willie. He was probably still waiting inside for her to return from the restroom.

Hot air poured into the Jaguar when she turned it on. It would be at least fifteen minutes before the interior cooled down. Once in the car she glanced in her rear view mirror. Willie was now standing in front of the court building, looking angry. Fortunately he didn’t see her. He pushed his hat forward and walked toward his Escalade. She sat with the windows open to let the heat out, air conditioning going full blast, waiting for her car to cool down. She wondered what the judge would think if he knew Willie drove one of the two most expensive cars in the parking lot and had a court-appointed attorney. Ultimately the taxpayers had to foot the bill. Merritt was sure Willie had never paid an attorney in his life.

CHAPTER 3

Once she left the parking lot, Merritt turned to her phone. She skipped several messages from Shavonn. She listened to Ian’s sleepy voice, Hey Babe, you didn’t even say good-bye.

She returned his call. "I have to work, remember? And I did kiss you good-bye. You were asleep. Don’t you have a photo shoot at 11:00?"

Yeah, but my car won’t start again. Can you just give me your AAA number?

Ian was irresponsible and annoying and she was about four years older than he was, but he was worth it. At least for now. He was better looking by far than any of the other guys she’d dated and more fun. In and out of bed. He could even dance. And cook.

* * *

Merritt always got a little rush as she approached the double glass doors to her office – Lamarre, Montgomery & Associates, Attorneys. Just a sign on a door. But she and her partners had created it, built a client base, gained the respect of judges, and earned the respect of the legal community. Hers was the only private all-female firm in the valley.

The offices were in a building designated a historical landmark. She loved the high tin ceilings, arched doorways, and the occasional stained glass windows. The downside - hundred-year-old bathrooms, unpredictable temperatures and dangerous narrow turns in the attached parking garage.

Floor to ceiling windows provided a spectacular view of Camelback Mountain from her office and the conference room. On the rare cloudy day, the mountain would be shrouded in gray mist; on sunny days the sky provided a far-reaching blue backdrop for the natural wonder framed by oversized windows. Late afternoons, the sky would turn pink, then bright orange or red, and finally dark purple before the mountain disappeared into the night. Working late, Merritt loved to watch the mountain turn blue-black just before the night replaced the sunset colors with its tapestry of stars. It was never the same. Like music, the sight of Camelback Mountain could shift her mood instantly from melancholy to peaceful, and sometimes, even melt away the stress of the day.

Hey Linda, Merritt grabbed her messages. Busy today?

Hi Mer. Kind of. Shavonn has most of your messages.

Thanks. Don’t know what we’d do without you. Linda smiled a thank you and picked up the ringing phone. Blinking red lights reflected several calls on hold. Merritt scanned her messages while walking into her office. She dumped her purse and files on her couch and kicked off her shoes, noticing small pieces of black tar on the high heels. She wandered into the kitchen, looking for coffee.

Shavonn apparently heard her come in, and asked, How come you didn’t answer my calls?

Good morning to you, too. I didn’t call you because I knew I’d be here in a few minutes. Merritt sat down at the small kitchen table and rubbed her sore feet. Shavonn sat next to her, dropping a yellow pad on the table. She had a long ‘to-do’ list for Merritt.

Don’t I get to drink my coffee first?

Sorry, it’s been kind of a rough morning.

You think you had it bad? I had to deal with Willie.

Okay, you win. Did he behave?

More or less. I think it’s beginning to sink in that he is likely to do prison time. He’s not a happy camper right now.

Bummer. Probably his fault anyway. But you still have a shit load of stuff to do. You got a call from Judge Fleishman asking you to take another court-appointment.

I assume you told him yes.

Of course. I asked him to have his assistant e-mail the file over as soon as possible.

Have we received it yet?

Nope, but if I know Becky, it’ll be here by noon.

Merritt took a couple more sips, topped off her coffee cup and padded into her office followed by Shavonn. Shavonn could be a pain at times but she was incredibly intuitive and the clients liked her. She listened to them in a way that Merritt couldn’t and her kindness to them took stress off Merritt.

Shavonn was also gorgeous and didn’t hide it. She wore bright dresses – too tight or too short, huge earrings and high strappy heels that showed off her long flawless legs. Today, her shiny black braids surrounded her head like a turban. Her appearance might be exotic, but she was the best assistant Merritt had ever had.

So tell me more about the prelim, Shavonn asked. And why’s Willie pissed, anyway? You already told him he’d lose and the case would get set for trial.

Because he’s Willie. And he’s always innocent, as you know. He told me the girl in his apartment left her ‘stuff’ on his coffee table in the apartment and that’s why he got arrested and is facing his third drug charge. But at least he behaved himself in court, except for some inappropriate smirking. I think he likes you by the way.

Please. Maybe he and I could get together this weekend and do a few lines. When the hell has he seen me anyway?

Remember that time a few weeks ago when you had to rush a file over to the court for me? He saw you then.

Wonderful. I feel so special. So, sit down and listen to number one on your agenda. If you had listened to my messages you’d already know.

Whatever, just fill me in okay? I didn’t sleep well last night.

When she looked at the pile of work on her desk, Merritt’s head started to feel tight and painful. She pulled out the hair clip holding her ponytail, mussing up her long blue-back hair to relieve the pressure. Okay, she said, what do I have to do first?

At almost 5’10" Shavonn had a body to die for and a sculpted young face that didn’t need make up, although she used plenty. She kept a normal length skirt and jacket in the office, in case she needed to go to court or accompany Merritt on a jail visit. But today she had on a skirt so short you could see all the way up to wherever, and impossibly high stiletto heels.

So girl, why are you tired? Shavonn asked. Junior keep you up late last night?

His name is Ian, in case you’ve forgotten. Jealous?

Hell no, I get my share. But I gotta’ admit, your boy is one fine piece of…

Yes he is. Gorgeous. But can I ask you a question?

Sure. Is it about Ian?

Sort of.

Okay, shoot.

"I get this crazy feeling when I’m with Ian. Even when I’m not with him."

"Honey, I’ve seen him. Sometimes I’m amazed you get anything done when you have him around. But you’ve had lots of hot guys since I’ve worked for you. What’s different now?"

Well, Merritt leaned forward, "have you ever been just wild about a guy, maybe even in love, but it feels like he’s almost too good to be true?"

Yeah, I’ve had a couple like that. It usually wears off. Sweet as pie in the beginning, then the television remote becomes more important than going out or even to bed.

So then what?

Depends. If I really like the guy I stick around a while. If he gets really annoying, I dump him. Lots of fish in the sea and all that.

Shavonn stood up and looked out the window at the mountain. The sun cast a soft midday glow on the office. Mer, do you think you’re in love with him?

Merritt had a piece of paper in her hand and was folding it into smaller and smaller pieces. What she really wanted was a smoke.

I don’t know. Maybe I just love the attention, the sweet sex and – shit Shavonn, I’m not even sure I know what love is.

Shavonn sat back down. Honey, I don’t know what it is either - not really. They say you just know but I think that’s just Hollywood BS. You want to know my definition of love? Two people get married and stay together through all the crap life hands out, for twenty-five, thirty years, or more. My mom and dad have been married twenty-nine years. I guess that isn’t ‘Hollywood love.’ But that’s what I want, what they have. I try to picture the guy with me in twenty-five or thirty years. When I roll over in bed in the morning and there’s that face. When he isn’t gorgeous any more. Will he still care? Will I?

In the meantime?

Just have fun. But with Ian, I’d be careful. Something about him I can’t explain. I just feel if it doesn’t work, it will hurt like hell when he’s gone.

Merritt shifted in her seat. Your parents are lucky. Twenty-nine years is long time.

Damn straight, girl. And they know it. But my mom told me it wasn’t always easy – money problems, Dad snoring, broken washing machines, kids in trouble, broken down cars, not enough sex, too much sex, sick kids, all of that. There’s more than luck involved. Lots of trouble to keep marriage going strong. My mom said once, ‘Shavonn, Honey, when you’re with a guy and you are really crazy about him - imagine a time he loses a job, or one of you gets sick, or one of your kids ends up in jail. Maybe one or both of you can’t cook worth a damn, or you want a vacation and he wants a new car. Maybe he gets fat or starts drinkin’? Or your house burns down. A million things can happen in thirty or forty years. But you always have one person who will do anything for you; someone who will always have your back’. That’s a marriage.

Merritt smiled, Interesting. Who needs a therapist when I have you?

Well, I’ll be expecting my bonus any time.

Merritt pushed her hair back behind her ears. Okay, work. Tell me about the case Judge Fleishman gave us. Meth? Domestic violence? Burglary?

Better. Murder.

No shit? Where’s our guy? Fourth Avenue or Madison?

Neither. Our new client is a girl, or woman, I should say. We’re going to visit her at 4:00 p.m. Unless you’d rather have a video conference.

No way. I want to meet her in person.

I figured, Shavonn said. "Here’s the preliminary police report. Nothing else yet. Cops found the guy’s body in bed, half naked and missing an essential body part. Our client, Davina, was standing over him, holding a knife. Not much blood where his manhood used to be. Victim was Clay, her husband. Cops questioned her. She wasn’t too coherent. She’s young, twenty I think. The husband was several years older. No kids. Guy had a bullet from a .38 caliber in his gut. That’s where most of the blood was. Cops haven’t found the gun yet. No photos so far. He might have been with some girl who shot him, took the gun, and ran. Our client might have found him later and finished him off with the knife. Our client might have shot him, but then where’s the gun? Or he was almost dead and our client decided to finish him off in case he came to and decided to come after her. And if he was dead, why cut off his… well, you know."

Penis? Merritt asked.

Okay, be literal. That’s what was chopped off. Both the husband’s and our client’s fingerprints were on the knife. Not sure why. But our client had no gun residue on her hands.

Merritt said, No matter how it happened, it’s pretty gross. Merritt opened up a desk drawer and pulled out a Bic and a cigarette. She lit up and began to pace. What could have set the girlfriend, or prostitute or whoever she is, to shoot him? Maybe he refused to pay her or maybe he beat her up after they had sex. And where did the gun come from? And where did it go?

Shavonn said, "Lots of guys keep a pistol on their bedside table. Girlfriend might have just seen it and took her chance. Maybe she robbed him too.

Oh, a couple more interesting details, Shavonn added, he had a shirt on but no pants or underwear. His pants were on the floor. He still had his shirt on, but as I said, it was completely bloody, apparently from the gunshot.

Merritt walked, frowning and smoking. Shavonn waited.

Shavonn, were there any drugs mentioned in the police report?

No, but like I said, we haven’t received the entire file yet. The preliminary report was just a couple pages. It just said our client was ‘incoherent.’ That could mean drugs, shock, fear of the police, anything.

Did the report mention evidence of a third person being present?

Nope. But if there were a woman there before Davina came in, she would have left something. Pubic hair, bodily fluids, regular hair – hopefully a different color than Davina’s. Something may have fallen out of her purse. Her fingerprints might be in the bathroom if she used the toilet or washed up in the sink. Her DNA would be on the part Davina removed. Tight now we’re just speculating. Guess it could even be a guy who shot him – pissed off husband who found his wife with the victim. Shavonn said. We might be able to get witness statements later from neighbors or the husband’s co-workers or friends.

God, I hope she didn’t say too much. Merritt said. Like it mattered what she said, pissed-off wife standing with a knife over a dead, still warm, mutilated body with no pants, a gunshot hole in his gut and a missing male organ. A jury will want some logic.

I wonder if the husband owned a gun? Merritt said. "If he did, he might have taught Davina how to use it. If they find it, it could have hers and her husband’s fingerprints on it. And I wonder who called it in? A neighbor? Someone had to have heard that gunshot."

But remember, no gunshot residue on our client’s hands, Shavonn reminded her. So Davina couldn’t have shot him. And he sure didn’t shoot himself. He was having fun, not shooting himself. We should know more by tomorrow.

You’re right, Merritt said. The cops have to find out who shot the husband.

Shavonn continued, The wife, Davina, was crying. She also told the cops he deserved it and she was glad he was dead.

Great, a near admission. But to what? Did the report mention any other weapons?

No. No weapon in the victim’s hand or near him. Except for the knife of course.

Shavonn said, About the gun, maybe there was one and the cops took it.

Maybe, but why? And wouldn’t she have said something about having a gun?

Well, the report did say she was incoherent.

I’d be interested to see whose DNA they find. No wonder Fleishman dumped this one on us. Still, it sounds interesting. Merritt said.

Shavonn suggested, "Davina might have seen him on the