New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,29
photos from the murder scene and autopsy report. Timmerman took a bullet in the forehead, but his face should have been recognizable to someone close to him.
I call Richard Wallace and ask him who identified Timmerman’s body, since it is not in the discovery materials. He puts me on hold for a few minutes to find out, and returns with the answer.
“The wife. Diana Timmerman,” he says.
“She was the only one?” I ask.
“As far as I can tell. There would have been no reason to question her identification, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Nope,” I say.
“You have reason to doubt her? His face was mostly intact.”
I don’t want to share with Richard the knowledge I have about the lab director’s e-mail. I don’t know if it helps our defense in any way, and if it does, I certainly wouldn’t want to tip our hand now. Now that I’m feeling better about Laurie’s prospects, I am able to focus more on the case, and feeling like I want to continue representing Steven.
I call Marcus in the hope of learning if he’s made any progress in finding the piece of garbage who shot Laurie. I do this with some reservation, since it will by definition require having a conversation with Marcus, a process that is always bewildering and frustrating.
He answers his cell phone on the first ring. “Yuh.”
“Marcus?”
“Yuh.”
“It’s Andy. Everything okay?”
He doesn’t answer, which doesn’t surprise me. Words are precious to Marcus, and he doesn’t want to waste a “yuh” on idle chitchat.
“Any luck on IDing the shooter?” I ask.
“Yuh.”
“Who is it?”
“Childs,” he says. Or maybe he says “Chiles,” or “Giles,” or any one of a thousand other names. Marcus on a cell phone is even worse than Marcus in person.
“Childs?” I ask. “Like children?”
“Yuh.”
“Do you know his first name?”
“Yuh.”
“What is it?”
“Jimmy.”
“Have you found him yet?”
“Unh.”
“Are you going to?”
“Yuh.”
Fascinating as the call is, I extricate myself from it and marvel for a few moments at the terror Marcus must have caused in the informant community to extract this information so quickly.
I then call Pete Stanton and ask him if the police have made any progress on identifying the shooter. Ordinarily he would give me a hard time before telling me anything, but he knows the depth of our shared desire to nail the bastard.
“Nothing yet, but we’ll get there,” he says.
“The name Jimmy Childs mean anything to you?” I ask.
Pete is silent for a few moments. “You get that from Marcus?”
“Let’s just say I got a tip through my crack investigating team.”
“Childs is bad news, Andy. He’s hired help and doesn’t come cheap. He’d get up from breakfast to slit your throat, without his coffee getting cold. Even Marcus might have his hands full.”
“Who does he usually work for?” I ask.
“Anybody with enough cash. But the last we had heard he was out of the country.”
“Out of the country where?” I ask.
“The Middle East was the rumor, but it wasn’t confirmed,” he says.
“A high-priced hit man comes six thousand miles to shoot Laurie?” It’s bewildering, frustrating, and very frightening.
“What the hell could that be about?” Pete wonders, out loud.
“Marcus will find out,” I say.
“Andy, listen to me on this. Tell Marcus to be very, very careful with this guy.”
“Maybe you’ll find him first. Don’t you police do stuff like that for a living?”
He thinks for a moment, weighing the possibilities. “My money’s on Marcus,” he says.
LAURIE IS NOT IN INTENSIVE CARE when I get there in the morning.
My first reaction is to panic, but then the nurse tells me that she was moved to a private room during the night. In fact, it’s the one next to mine, and I didn’t even know it.
I take the steps, three at a time, to her new room. When I enter she has her eyes wide open, and she gives me a half smile with the side of the face that she has full movement in.
“It’s about time you woke up,” I say, and I go to her and give her a hug. I do it gently, so as not to hurt her, but she hugs me back almost as hard as ever. It feels great.
“Andy, you look tired,” she says. “You haven’t been sleeping.” Her speech is still slightly distorted, but much better than I was expecting.
“I’ve been out partying every night.”
“Andy, please tell me what happened. I don’t remember anything.”
She doesn’t even recall what I’ve already told her, so I relate the details of the incident that I know, and I can see her