“Which one is your guy?” she whispered.
Harry held up three fingers so the young women, whose backs were to him, wouldn’t hear his answer.
The deputy in the lineup room went through the routine, asking each man to step forward and then turn to the left and the right. When he had gone through all five men, Harry repeated his instructions to each dancer.
“Each man has a number above his head. If you recognize anyone as the man you saw sitting with Darlene Beckett in the Peek-a-Boo Lounge, just write down the number.” Each woman scratched a number on the sheet of paper and Harry collected them.
“You both identified number three,” he said. “Is that correct?”
The two women glanced at each other for the first time. The one on Harry’s left shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, number three,” she said.
The other nodded. “Yeah, it was definitely three.”
“Are you both certain he’s the man?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, no question about it,” the first woman said.
“Definitely, he’s the guy I saw with Darlene,” the second added.
“I’ll need the names and addresses of these two witnesses,” Middlebrooks chimed in. He kept his voice low and rumbling and filled with as much threat as he could muster.
Both women gave him a dismissive glance, and Harry decided the lawyer needed to do some serious work on his threatening voice.
Harry turned the two witnesses over to John Weathers with instructions that he take signed statements from each; then returned to the interrogation room with Middlebrooks and Bobby Joe. Vicky and Jim Morgan slipped into the small viewing room and took chairs behind the one-way window.
Morgan spoke without ever taking his eyes off Harry. “I hear that Harry’s tops when it comes to questioning a witness or a suspect. Weathers told me he’s got like a sixth sense for it.”
Vicky thought about that, and about Harry’s insistence that Benevuto wasn’t their killer. Her eyes hardened and there was a tightening at the corners of her mouth. “I’ve only worked with him a few days, but from what I’ve seen, he’s very good.” She turned to Morgan. “But you are too, Jim. And we never would have had the plate numbers that led us to Benevuto if you hadn’t gone back and questioned that old man who lived across the street from Darlene. Harry missed that one. I guess his sixth sense wasn’t working that night.”
Morgan nodded almost as though he hadn’t heard the compliment. He continued to watch Harry. When he spoke his voice sounded distant. “I’m not as good as he is, not yet, not by a long shot… But someday
…”
Harry took a seat opposite Bobby Joe and Middlebrooks. “Okay,” he began, placing his palms on the table, “I guess we all know where we stand here.”
Middlebrooks gave Harry a false smile. “I think we do. Shall I sum it up?” He stared at Harry, who shrugged agreement. “Let’s see,” the lawyer continued, “we have two exotic dancers who claim they saw my client-a respected minister-sitting next to Darlene Beckett in a darkly lit lounge a few days before she was murdered. My client insists they’re mistaken. Now who is a jury of good, God-fearing Florida citizens to believe?” Middlebrooks shook his head. “I don’t think the state’s attorney will be too impressed with what you have.”
Harry leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Those are some very good points, counselor.” He glanced at Bobby Joe. There was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips, but he could still see the nervousness in his eyes. Harry leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. He turned his gaze back to Middlebrooks. “I think you’re missing a few points, counselor. First, you’ve got Bobby Joe’s criminal record.”
“A juvenile record,” Middlebrooks interjected. “Not admissible, as you are well aware.”
“There were several arrests as an adult.”
“But only one conviction,” the lawyer said, interrupting again. “And one I believe a jury would accept as a regrettable and youthful mistake, one Bobby Joe made before he found Jesus.”
“Quite possibly, counselor, but the arrests are still a matter of record.” Harry flipped several pages in his notebook. “One charge involved possession of a controlled substance, which was dropped when Bobby Joe agreed to turn snitch for the arresting officers and provide information about his supplier. The supplier was eventually arrested and copped a plea, so Bobby Joe never had to testify. Another was a bad check charge, also dropped when restitution was made. And finally there was a charge involving a phony tree-trimming scam. Seems Bobby Joe tried to bilk an elderly couple out of several hundred dollars in that one. The couple got suspicious when Bobby Joe wanted half the money up front, so they called the cops. An investigation found that he had pulled the same scam on another couple a few blocks away. They paid him half the money up front and he never showed up to do the work, so the investigating officers busted him on that one as well as the attempted fraud on the second couple. The attempted fraud charge was eventually dropped two days after the couple met with the senior Reverend Waldo. We can only assume what happened at that meeting. The first couple refused to drop their charge and Bobby Joe did a year in county jail. But you’re right, counselor. There is only one conviction. Still, it’s not exactly a spotless record.”
“He’s a man of God now. And these two women you have as witnesses.”
“Let’s talk about these two women.” It was Harry’s turn to interrupt. “I’m sure if this matter proceeds you’ll be hiring an investigator to check them out pretty thoroughly, just as we’ll be checking out Bobby Joe pretty thoroughly.” Harry glanced at Bobby Joe. The smirk had disappeared. He turned back to Middlebrooks. “Let me save you a little time.” He flipped several pages in his notebook. “The first dancer, Sara Jones, she’s pretty similar to Anita Molari, the dancer Bobby Joe paid for the scratch on her car. She’s a single mother with a child at home.” Harry paused and smiled. “She says she takes her little girl to church every Sunday, by the way. The other young lady…” he checked his notebook again, “… is Cindy Lewis. She’s single. She’s a junior at the University of South Florida-hopes to be an anthropologist one day-lives with her mother, and uses the money she makes dancing to pay her tuition.” Harry paused and looked down at his notes for effect, although he already knew what was there. He looked up again. “Made the dean’s list the last three semesters,” he added.
The lawyer’s lips tightened. “A very commendable young lady; the proverbial whore with a heart of gold. I’m sure the state’s attorney will love throwing that old saw at a jury. Who knows? They might be into buying cliches on that particular day.”
“Neither of these women is a prostitute,” Harry said. “In fact, neither one has any criminal record at all.” He shifted his gaze to Bobby Joe as he spoke. “Not juvenile, not even charges that were eventually dropped.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out. “Look, we can go around and around on this without either one of us getting what we want. And in the end Bobby Joe gets himself locked up. But that doesn’t have to happen. Let’s say I’m willing to buy the argument that Bobby Joe didn’t kill Darlene Beckett. Let’s say I’m willing to accept the idea that he was at the Peek-a-Boo Lounge for some other reason-maybe I even buy Reverend Waldo’s suggestion that some member of the congregation asked for help with a straying husband. So let’s say I buy the idea that Bobby Joe goes there to try and help some sinner, and lo and behold, he just happens to sit next to Darlene Beckett. And the dancers see him, and all of a sudden he’s in the middle of a murder investigation just because he was trying to do his duty as a minister of the Lord.”
“You’re forgetting, detective, Bobby Joe insists he wasn’t there at all,” Middlebrooks said.
“Yeah, well, that one I’m not buying. I’ve got credible witnesses who say otherwise. And I’ve got another witness who saw him leaving her apartment. You want the rundown on him? He’s a retired security officer-a bonded officer who worked at a local bank for thirty years.”