Helena rose and grabbed her purse. “Yes, sir.”
He chuckled softly. She hadn’t asked any questions about Mrs. Turner’s visit, and he liked it when people jumped when he told them to do something. She might be trainable after all. “I’m going to call on the coroner and probably won’t be back until late. Leave the evidence on my desk.”
“Yes, sir.”
The wind had finally died down, and the storm that had rocked through earlier had cleared the air. He would see the coroner, then call Warren Parish. If he was going to free Martin Harris and protect the real killer, then he needed to know the truth. Mrs. Turner had been convincing, and a jury would probably believe her. Marcus didn’t. Her hands were too shaky, and she was too scared of her husband to have pulled it off. The question he needed answered was why she was willing to admit to a crime she didn’t commit. And Warren Parish had lied to him. He’d told him no one else knew. His clients could lie to anyone they wanted—except him.
The coroner’s office was busy, and Marcus regretted not calling ahead. He didn’t like wasting time. The secretary looked up, recognized him, and immediately picked up her phone to dial a number. “Mr. Dade is here to see you, sir.” Replacing the receiver, she waved at the door marked Coroner. “You can go in.”
Marcus grinned. “Thank you, Mabel.” He knocked on the door and opened it. “Hello, Dustin. How’s business?”
Dustin Chrome shook his head. “Busy as usual, but at least better than the last coroner.”
“Yeah, Mabel is still mad at me about that. Swear I didn’t have anything to do with it.” Marcus did feel bad about Cameron Sizemore’s demise. Sizemore had planned to testify against Marcus’s client until someone cut his throat the night before trial.
“I have a feeling this isn’t a social call,” Chrome said. “So have a seat and tell me what you want.”
“The autopsy for James Turner.”
“Turner. Oh, yeah, the architect found in the bay. Got that here somewhere.” Chrome riffled through the files on his desk. “Here it is.”
Marcus glanced over the report. “Single gunshot wound to the right temple. Could it have been a suicide?”
“Possible, but the body was found in the bay. No car nearby and no gun. Odd place to commit suicide. Of course the car was reported as stolen, but until it’s found, that can’t be confirmed.” Chrome reached for the report. “No wallet, no ID. Most people who commit suicide don’t take the time to get rid of all that.”
“No defensive wounds, no bruises, and Turner was a big guy. You think he just stood there and let somebody shoot him?”
Chrome shrugged. “You’ve got a point.” He grinned at Dade. “Find the car, and if it’s clean, find me a gun. Then I’ll be willing to take another look.”
Marcus returned the grin. It was nice to have a coroner who gave him the exact evidence he needed to change an autopsy report. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chrome turned back to his paperwork. “Figured you would.”
The sky was turning dark as Marcus left the coroner’s office. He dialed the burner phone he’d given Parish.
“Hello.”
“We need to talk, Warren.”
“I was just getting ready to head home. I could meet you at your office in thirty minutes.”
“Make it fifteen.” Marcus hit the end button and picked up the pace. He wanted time to look over the evidence before he met with Parish.
6
Warren closed his computer and picked up his jacket. He’d expected the call from Dade after Tonya’s tearful confession that she’d gone to see Dade and confessed to killing James. The entire thing had turned into a mess.
The bottom line for Warren was he simply couldn’t let Martin Harris go to jail for something he hadn’t done. Unless Dade continued on the case and got Harris off, one of them would have to step forward and take the blame.
He set off toward Dade’s office. The research he’d done on Dade didn’t give him much hope that the truth would be well received or that Dade would care. All Dade cared about was money and notoriety. Warren had paid him a substantial sum and was willing to pay more. Enough lives had been destroyed already.
When the door opened, Marcus glanced up from the file he was reading. “Hello, Warren.”
“Mr. Dade.”
“Let’s retire to my office. This shouldn’t take long.”
Warren followed him in and sat in the same chair he’d vacated that morning. He was still calm and self-assured, something Dade wasn’t used to in his clients, especially clients in the position Warren was now in. “You lied to me, Warren.”
“No, sir, I just didn’t tell you the truth.”
“Semantics aren’t going to help you here. You told me no one else knew you killed James Turner.”
Warren’s lips lifted briefly in a smile before he replied. “No one else knows I killed James Turner, because I didn’t kill James Turner. So technically, I didn’t lie.”
Dade reached for a cigar and lit it. The man was the most maddening client he’d ever dealt with. “You’re telling me Mrs. Turner actually killed her husband?”
Warren shook his head. “I never said that.”
Marcus picked up the briefcase from behind his desk and passed it to Warren. “One thing every lawyer hates is getting blindsided in court. It’s why we insist our clients be one hundred percent honest with us. I’ll represent Mr. Harris, as his innocence intrigues me, but I won’t cover up your crimes.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair, watching the wheels turn inside Warren’s head. “Tell me the truth or take your money and get out.”
“I’ve been an honest man all my life, Mr. Dade. If I had killed James Turner, I would willingly turn myself in to save Martin Harris. If Tonya Turner had killed him, she would do the same. We didn’t, but we did cover up his murder.”
“Would you like a drink, Warren?”
“I don’t drink.”
“Well, I think I need one for what’s coming, so go ahead.” Marcus crossed to his bar and poured a double. “Whatever you say here is just between us.”
“I’ve known James all my life. We grew up together and went to college together. We parted ways soon after the birth of his little girl, Cindy. Things didn’t go well for him, so he came back to Texas five years ago and asked to join my firm. For a while, things were great until one night, Claire, my wife, told me James was beating Tonya. I didn’t want to believe it, but all the signs were there. I started giving him long-distance jobs that would take him away from home for days or weeks at a time. Things seemed better, and when Martin Harris hired our firm, I gave the job to James. You know the rest of that story.”
Marcus finished his drink and poured another.
“I have a feeling there’s more. Continue.”
“Cindy turned twelve the night James was killed. He came in drunk, walked to her bedroom, and raped her. Confused, hurt, perhaps half crazy, when he fell asleep, Cindy got her mother’s gun, put it to her father’s right temple, and pulled the trigger. Tonya called me, and we cleaned it up and dropped the body in the bay.”
Marcus sat down, picked up the briefcase, and dropped it behind his desk. “Where’s the gun?”
Warren pulled a baggie from his jacket and passed it across the desk. “The child has no memory of this. She’s been traumatized enough. Claire and I have discussed it, and if I have to, I’ll take the blame for James’s murder.”
“Where’s Turner’s car?” Marcus asked.