Pete shakes his head. “Not yet. Drugs have never been the main part of Petrone’s operation, so he’s let it go so far. There’s no telling how long that will last. It’s a war he’d win, but it would be ugly.”
“So where does my client fit into this?”
Larry answers. “He probably doesn’t, but Troy Preston does. Moreno loves football, and he took a liking to Preston. Preston in turn took a liking to Moreno and his lifestyle. The word is, they were really close.”
“So Preston was dealing for him?” Laurie asks.
“Not in a serious way at first. More to his friends, certain other players… that kind of thing. People tell me it made him feel like a big shot. Then he started liking the fact that it was supplementing his income, so he branched out some. The bigger problem is, he started using what he was selling, which is not the best thing for a pro football career. And as his career went down, his need for money outside football went up.”
My mind of course is focused on finding a killer other than Kenny Schilling. I start thinking out loud. “So Petrone could have killed Preston to send a message to Moreno. Or maybe Preston pissed Quintana off, and he killed him.”
“Or maybe your client is guilty,” Pete says, ever the cop. “The victim’s blood was in his car, and his body was in his house. Not exactly your classic whodunit.”
“More like your classic frame-up,” I say.
Pete laughs. “And exactly why would they pick Schilling to frame? It’s not like they would have left evidence for the police to track them down. Petrone’s been murdering people since he was four years old. You think we could have tied him to this?”
“You? No. The state cops? Maybe.” I don’t really believe what I’m saying; it’s my pathetic attempt to get back at Pete for the birthday bash.
If Pete is wounded by my attack, he hides it well. He shakes his head. “Nope. Petrone didn’t do Preston, and the job was too classy for Quintana. He would have sliced him up and dumped him in front of City Hall.”
He’s probably right, but at the very least this opens up a huge area for a defense attorney to explore and exploit. I’m already working out strategies in my mind; the money for this evening’s fiasco may actually turn out to be well spent.
We pull up at Pete’s car, and as he and Larry get out, Pete pats my arm. “Thanks, man. This is the nicest thing anybody’s ever done for me, even if I was the one that did it. But you didn’t get too pissed, and I appreciate it. You’re a good friend.”
“Happy birthday,” I say. That’ll teach him.
THERE ARE A FEW things I don’t like about my job. One is that it doesn’t involve playing professional sports, though my placekicking brainstorm should take care of that. Two is that it gives me the creeps to have to call anyone “Your Honor.” Three, and most important, I don’t like to mislead people.
But misleading people is something a good defense attorney does, and this case is about to become a textbook example. I do not believe that Troy Preston was murdered by Dominic Petrone, Paul Moreno, Cesar Quintana, or anyone else involved with illegal drugs. Those are not people who would have gone to such lengths to frame Kenny Schilling. They would have put a bullet in Preston’s head and dumped him in the river, or buried him where he’d never be found. And, as Pete was quick to point out, they would not have left a trail so they could be caught. And if they weren’t in legal danger, there would be no reason to frame somebody else.
But these bad guys present perfect targets for me, people who I might get the jury to believe could have done it. It helps me create reasonable doubt that my client is guilty, so I must pursue it vigorously, even though I don’t believe it. I’m not lying, but it still makes me uncomfortable. I’ll go forward with it, though, since our justice system makes no allowances for lawyer discomfort.
Adam Strickland is with Kevin and Edna when I arrive at the office. He takes notes as Edna regales him with more of her ideas for the crossword puzzle film, and I hear Kevin ask if Adam can use the actual name of Kevin’s privately owned business in the Willie