“Ms. Dunphy?” the judge said.
Before the public defender could speak, Tommy put his hand on her forearm. “I’d like to speak on my own behalf, Your Honor.”
“Only a fool acts as his own attorney, Mr. Morgan.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Tommy said, turning on the Irish charm. “I’ve been called a fool and worse many times before.”
Judge Greer sighed. “Your choice, Mr. Morgan. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” the judge replied, then looked at the district attorney. “Bail, Mr. Blaze?”
“The state seeks remand,” Billy Blaze said. “Mr. Morgan is a flight risk.”
“I’ll surrender my passport,” Tommy offered. “And, Judge, just so you know, we, I, am going to mount a vigorous defense. I know who the real killer is. I have compelling evidence, over-whelming evidence that the real killer is …”
His voice faded. The next moment was as long as any I have ever experienced, as long as the moment after a Taliban rocket hit the rotor of my helicopter in Afghanistan, my life once again hanging in the balance.
Chapter 34
“YOU’RE ARRESTING US?” Justine cried at Commandant Raoúl Gomez of the Jalisco State Police, and Arturo Fox, the chief of municipal police in Guadalajara.
Bizarrely, or at least it seemed so to Justine, the two high-level law enforcement officials had arrived at virtually the same time in the courtyard below Leona Casa Madre’s apartment, roughly a half hour after Emilio Cruz had called the body in and not ten minutes after the first uniformed officers had arrived. The two men had gone cold, hard, and sardonic when Justine and Cruz presented their Private badges and identifications.
“You are in this country conducting an investigation without declaring yourself to law enforcement, without working through proper channels?” Commandant Gomez asked. He was a small, imperious man who delivered nearly everything he said in a scornful tone.
“We told Immigration who we were,” Cruz said.
“It is customary to notify the police,” Commandant Gomez said.
“There’s a body upstairs,” Justine said. “We thought you’d like to know.”
“Yes, you did want us to know,” Chief Fox replied. He tapped his temple with a thick finger. “But I think the two of you are clever. I think you tell us this to cover your tracks.”
Fox was as big as Gomez was small, with a broad belly and cheek wattles that shook with indignation as he delivered the accusation. Gomez watched, flicking the nails of his index fingers against his thumb pads.
“Don’t be a couple of corrupt jackasses trying to show off your penises to each other,” Justine retorted. “The woman’s been dead at least a day or two. We only just arrived in Guadalajara. Check the facts. Look at the time stamp on our passports.”
Justine had moved to dig out her passport, but Chief Fox and Commandant Gomez seemed only to have heard her calling them corrupt jackasses trying to show off their penises, because that was when Justine and Cruz had been told to put their hands behind their backs and she’d demanded to know if they were under arrest.
“Of course you’re under arrest,” Gomez snarled. “You broke into an apartment. You may have murdered someone. And have you not heard? In México, we have Napoleonic law. Here you are guilty until proven innocent, and that has not a thing to do with jackasses or penises or corruption.”
“Look,” Cruz said, trying to remain calm. “I’m sorry. She’s sorry. We’re here looking for five missing persons. We believed Señora Casa Madre might have some knowledge of their whereabouts. We found her dead. End of story.”
“Yes?” Chief Fox said, not buying it. “Who is this missing people?”
Justine and Cruz exchanged glances. Then Cruz said, “Thom and Jennifer Harlow, the actors, and their three children.”
At that Gomez’s head jerked back as if he’d sniffed something fouler than the decomposing body of Leona Casa Madre. But then Chief Fox chortled disdainfully, “You really do think we are corrupt jackasses.”
“Take them away,” Commandant Gomez barked at one of the uniformed officers standing guard. “We’ll see if this story of much nonsense changes after a night in the cells.”
Chapter 35
EVERYONE IN THAT courtroom was staring at my brother, including me and District Attorney Blaze, who filled the silence before Tommy could finish his thought and implicate someone else, probably me, in a cold-blooded killing.
“Objection, Your Honor!” Billy Blaze shouted. “This man can’t just go around accusing people of murder, slandering them in a public venue without cause. If Mr. Morgan has such evidence, he should have brought it to my office, which he has not.”