Perlow helped Castiel out of the cabana, and Ziegler sat there for several minutes looking at the girl, listening to her moan. Then he took a washcloth and tried to clean her face.
Ziegler told the story softly and sadly, stopping twice to dab at his eyes and once to blow his nose. Not a person in the courtroom thought he was lying.
As he spoke, something was happening I’d never seen before. No one was watching the person asking the questions, me. Or the person answering, Ziegler. Everyone-judge, jurors, clerks, bailiff, defendant, every spectator and journalist-was watching Castiel. Looks of shock, horror, and disgust.
Castiel sat stiffly at the prosecution table, hands clenched in front of him. His face frozen. Maybe he’d found the time machine that would let him hang out with Meyer Lansky in Havana.
I turned toward the gallery and discovered I had been wrong. Not everyone was staring at Castiel. In the front row of the gallery, Krista Larkin kept her eyes on Charlie Ziegler, tears streaming down her face.
I took two steps toward the witness stand and said, “Mr. Ziegler, now I want to bring you back to the night of the shooting.”
Looking exhausted, Ziegler simply nodded his head.
“On direct examination, you stated that Amy Larkin wasn’t the shooter, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Were you telling the truth?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The whole truth?”
“What do you mean?”
The courtroom had been nearly empty when Ziegler had testified before lunch. But the beehive that is the Justice Building had begun buzzing, and now the place was filled. Lawyers. Cops. Office workers. A TV crew belatedly set up a camera. Each time the door opened, I could hear the commotion in the corridor. Lights were turning on, camera crews setting up to pounce on Castiel when he exited. Circus Maximus.
“You said the figure was a man, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you clearly see this man?”
He shot a look at Krista, gave a little shrug that seemed to say, “What can I do?”
“Clear enough,” he said.
“Who was it?”
Ziegler sighed, a long whistling breath. He’d come this far. He’d scorched the earth behind him. Why stop now?
“It was Alex Castiel.”
A hundred gasps seemed to suck all the air out of the courtroom.
“Alex Castiel shot Max,” Ziegler continued.
“That’s a lie!” Castiel on his feet now. “That’s a goddamn lie and you know it!”
The judge banged her gavel. “Sit down, Mr. Castiel.”
The State Attorney slumped back into his chair.
“Were you finished with your answer?” the judge asked.
“Alex killed the guy,” Ziegler went on. “That’s all I was going to say, Your Honor. Then Alex blamed it on the sister of the woman he tried to kill. That’s the damn ugly truth.”
68 Suitable for Framing
“We stand in recess.” Judge Duckworth banged her gavel. “Counsel, my chambers, now! Bailiff, please summon two sheriff’s deputies.”
The judge stood and disappeared through the door behind the bench.
I had failed to get to my feet when the judge rose. I was still reeling.
Alex Castiel killed his surrogate father.
There was a certain logic to it. Perlow was about to be indicted on the slot-machine case. All his life, Castiel listened to his uncle Max telling him to be ruthless, to save himself first. So Castiel figured the teacher would do what he taught. Perlow’s get-out-of-jail-free card was his ability to bring down the State Attorney. Tell the feds about Alex being a bagman for a porn producer, then beating a girl to death, and who knows what else over the years? Maybe Castiel was wrong; maybe Perlow never would have talked. Now we’ll never know.
Amy squeezed my arm and breathed, “Thank you,” into my ear.
Krista stepped through the gate and joined us at the defense table. The sisters hugged, and Krista said, “Is the case over, Jake?” Hope rippling her voice like a stream over rocks.
“Not quite yet. Let’s see what the judge has to say.”
“Whatever happens, you were wonderful, Jake.”
That gave me the chance for a long overdue apology. “Krista, I’m sorry I didn’t step up when I had the chance. Sorry I didn’t keep you safe.”
Krista gave me a soft, rueful smile. “Don’t sweat it, Jake. In the shit storm of my life, you weren’t even a drizzle.”
I wasn’t willing to be let off the hook so easily. “If I knew then what I know now, I would have been a better man.”
She laughed and gave me a knowing smile. “Amy’s told me all about you. You’re a better man now.”
“You sure about that?”
“You’ve proved it by helping Amy.”
I started for the judge’s chambers, but Amy grabbed my sleeve. “Do you think the jurors believe Charlie?”
“I do.”
“About everything? Not just that it wasn’t me. But that Castiel shot Perlow with my gun.”
I recited the evidence of what I figured would become the second triaclass="underline" State v. Castiel. “Once Castiel had the bullets you fired into my tires, all he needed was to get the gun from your motel. He had evidence of your stalking, your threats against Ziegler, and now the forensic evidence. By making it look like a botched attempt to kill Ziegler, you were just like Castiel’s law school diploma.”
Her look shot me a question.
“Suitable for framing.” I stuffed my briefcase and headed for the door behind the bench. Her Honor was waiting.
69 Breaking the Conspiracy
Judge Duckworth’s chambers were a quiet place with the scent of leather furniture and old books. A pair of sheriff’s deputies guarded the door, one on the inside, one on the outside.
Her Honor wasted no time. As soon as the court stenographer had set up her little machine, the judge started in. “Mr. Castiel, do you have anything to say about the accusations made against you under oath in my courtroom?”
Stone-faced, the State Attorney said, “Not until I speak to my lawyer.”
“Fine. You are hereby removed from this case. I’m declaring a mistrial on my own motion. I expect the Governor will suspend you, instanter, pending an investigation. I’m ordering the defendant released from custody and strongly recommending to your replacement that charges be dismissed with prejudice.”
Yes! That’s what I wanted to hear. The case was won, or nearly so.
“In the meantime, I am instructing the county sheriff that you be barred from the State Attorney’s Office. All files of this case will be sealed until an acting State Attorney is appointed. Do you have any questions?”
“May I be excused to call my lawyer?”
“Not yet.” The judge turned to me and left her smile at home. “Mr. Lassiter, I have never been a fan of your courtroom methods.”
Ouch.
“But today, you really showed something in there.”
Oh.
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
“You’ve come a long way. Since that time you scored a touchdown for the wrong team, I mean.”
“Safety,” I corrected her.
“That’s it, then. We’re in adjournment.” She rose and flew out of her chambers, robes trailing, looking like a nun on her way to Mass.
Castiel and I got to our feet at the same time. He seemed to stumble a bit. I didn’t know if his knees buckled, if he tripped on the chair leg, or if he was having a stroke. I caught him by the elbow, and he yanked away from me. We stood there a moment, eyeing each other. His complexion had gone all sallow under his tan, and his eyes were blank and bottomless.
“Go ahead, Jake. Say it.”
“Okay. You turn my stomach. You want me to go on? Because that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”