Its worse than that, Lester said. St. Pauls got a partial print, probably made by McDonald, on a shell from the gun that killed Arris.
Not good, said Towson.
Nobut all that proves is that McDonald loaded the gun. Ill also say it seems that when ODell was shot in thehead, the bullet might have come from the same gun. We cant prove the gun-slug connection, because the slug, a hollowpoint, came apart in her head, and there was nothing left but fragments. But a spectroscopic analysis of the metal from the slug in ODells head and from the traces of a slug in the Arris killing suggests both came from the same batch of lead. We also have the guntaken out of a car owned by McDonald but not driven by him since Septemberand the clip was full. But all the shells had his prints on them but the last two. The lead from those two came from a different batch, but the lead from the shells in the lower part of the magazine came from the same batchprobablythe same batchas the slugs that killed Arris and ODell.
Youd drive a jury nuts with this stuff, said the criminal division guy.
Theres another point here. I think I can demonstrate by the recorded times of some cell phone calls that Wilson McDonald couldnt have killed ODell. And if he couldnt have killed her, then somebody else who knew where the gun was must have. Audrey McDonald. And like I said, I think we can show how it was done.
But you cant definitively prove that was the gun that killed ODell.
No.
Thats a problem, Towson said.
They all sat in silence for a minute; then Kirk said, Pattern.
Everybody nodded. Dunn said, Pattern, plenty of motive, we knock down any sympathy she might get with the killing of her mother…
Which is more than balanced off by the fact that her mother apparently stood by while her father was fucking her, Kirk said. The defense puts a weeping woman on the stand who denies doing anything, but points out that if she didwhich she didntit certainly would have been justified, a fourteen-year-old girl getting the ol pork trombone from her own father. Matter of fact, if I was the defenseattorney, Id make the mother an accomplice. If Audreys as smart as this stuff makes her, she wouldnt need too much of a hint to come up with something pretty lurid.
Which, if we could drive a wedge between Audrey and her sister, we might get the sister to refute… Is the sister as wacko as Audrey?
No. But there was a complaint filed with Child Protection a couple of days ago that she beat her daughter and gave her dope, Lucas said.
Aw, Jesus.
But not justified, Lucas said. In fact, I think Audrey filed it.
Goddamn this woman.
Im sure he will, Lester said dryly. But itd be nice if we could get a few whacks in first.
Towson leaned over his desk, looking at his deputy and the head of his criminal division: Ill tell you what, boys. Were faced here with the usual sloppy police work that virtually ties us hand and foot, even as we have to take our cases before drooling liberal judges who dont wish for anything finer than putting criminals back on the street where they can rape our Cub Scouts. However…
I wish Id said that, Lester said.
Part of a speech Im writing, Towson said. Seriously, Lucas, do you think shes gonna kill anyone else in the next few days?
I dont know whod it be, Lucas said. Me maybe but Im careful.
Youbecareful, Towson said. She apparently likes guns… Now listen. Im looking through this memo, and Im convinced. A trial is something else. Give me another few days work on this thing. Nail down that stuff about ODell. Give me something harder. Work out a really tight timetable, and find a way we can put her there to pull the trigger. And anything else. Even people willing to suggest that she did it. We need more hard evidence: anything would help.
Whatre you going to do?
Im thinking that we might charge her with everything, Towson said. All the murder counts, all the ag assaults. Put all the evidence together, argue the pattern. Then, probably, well lose most of them. But well have a chance of getting her for killing her husband, if we can make it part of the pattern. Because shes admitted it. The jury might let her go on the other ones, for lack of specific evidence, but we might get her on at least second degree, and maybe first, on her husband.
She was pretty beat up, Lucas said. They took pictures.
We can handle that, if we can make the other things clear enough. If we get her on just second degree on her husband, and then whisper sweet nothings to the judge, he could blow off the guidelines, depart upward on the sentence, and put her away for twenty.
They all looked at each other; then Kirk said, Right now, Lucas, Id say its sixty-forty against. Itd be nice if you could come up with something a little stronger. Give us another twenty percent, or so.
Itd be nice, Towson said.
Ill hit her tonight with a search warrant on the duct tape, maybe look for a glass cutter, Lucas said.
Talk to us, Towson said. We want to know every move from here on out.
TWENTY-NINE
AUDREY MCDONALD WAS PACKING WILSONS SUITS into cardboard boxes, after carefully noting labels, estimated costwhich shed have to confirm with the tailor and condition, all toward a tax deduction. The accountant had recommended a donation to Goodwill.
She didnt like the idea of Goodwill, but she did like the idea of the tax deduction. Still, she was muttering to herself as she did it. Shaking her head. Wilson had spent a fortune on clothing, and now shed get only a fraction of it back. Nothing for the underwear. Perfectly good boxer shorts, and some bum was going to get them.
So reckless, she muttered. Just didnt care. Just didnt care what you spent on this. Look at this. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen pairs of undershorts. Why would you need all those undershorts? You could have gotten by with three pairs, or five pairs. Sixteen pairs of undershorts. Look at this. This is silk. Silk undershorts?
She was counting them again when the headlights swung into the driveway, glowing through the bedroom drapes. Helen? She hadnt called. She always called before she came. But who else? She went to the window and looked down.
LUCAS AND SHERRILL WAITED AS SLOAN PULLED INTO the driveway with Del in the passenger seat; a squad car followed a few seconds behind Sloan, with two uniformed cops. Lights shone from several windows in the house, both upstairs and down, and Lucas handed the warrant papers to one of the uniformed cops, who walked up the stoop, rang the doorbell, and knocked.
All glass cutters, all packages of tape, all one-gallon glass jugs, all guns, cartridges and/or cartridge parts, to include gunpowder, primers, brass, and bullets, all credit card records or billing statements involving gasoline purchases, he read, in the light coming through the window in the door. There was no answer, so he rang again, then opened the storm door and pounded. Still no answer.
What do you want to do? he asked.
Were going in, Lucas said. Lets not break anything yet. Lets check the garage doors.
The front door rattled and the cop at the door stepped back. A moment later, Audrey McDonald stuck her head out. What? she croaked. She looked worse than shed looked in court: the bruises on her face were a sickly bluish yellow, with small reddish splotches. She still wore the bandages on her head, and her visible hair looked like broom straw.
Im sorry, maam, the cop said. We have a search warrant for your house, for certain items.
He handed her the papers, and she took them, peered at them querulously. A search warrant? Can you wait until I call my lawyer?
No maam. Youre welcome to call your attorney, of course, but the warrant is served and well have to come in.