Vengeance(7)

“Too bad we don’t have a lab like the one on CSI,” Martinez said. “But we need a lot more big-city crime before that happens. Right now, we have to process the crime scenes ourselves. If we want something tested for prints or DNA, we ship it off to the FBI.”

“We better get going,” Ebanks said. He stood, and Martinez followed his lead. The judge pushed his long frame out of the swivel chair.

While his partner shook hands with the judge, Ebanks bent over to tie his shoe. In the wastebasket beside the tray of flies, a partially constructed Parachute Adams lay on top of a piece of Kleenex. Both the fly and the Kleenex were stained with what looked like blood.

Lucky break, Ebanks thought. He hadn’t expected to find something literally soaked with DNA.

Martinez and the judge had walked over to the wall, where the judge was pointing to one of the photos. After making sure they weren’t paying attention, Ebanks reached into the wastebasket and scooped up the bloody fly and the Kleenex. He slipped them into his pocket and straightened up.

The judge showed them into the reception area. The secretary was on the phone. She waved and smiled at them.

“Let’s catch some lunch,” Ebanks said, “but first I want to ask her something.”

The secretary finished her call. “May I help you?” she said.

“About those JNOVs,” Ebanks said. “Aren’t they usually kinda rare?”

The secretary nodded. “They are, except for with this judge. You could almost say he’s famous for it — some of the lawyers call him the ‘thirteenth juror.’ He takes his work very seriously. He always says if the jurors don’t do justice, it’s up to him.”

“The thirteenth juror,” Ebanks repeated. “Hmmm.”

He and Martinez got into the elevator. As the mahogany-paneled box descended, Ebanks said, “Well, that was a bust. We didn’t learn anything we didn’t already know about Shadid.”

“How’d you know about Dolan being a homicide?” Martinez said.

“I got a text when we were waiting for the judge,” Ebanks said. “I thought you did too.”

“Nope. But hey, no problemo.” A few seconds later, Martinez said, “You know, that got me thinking about some of the stuff the judge said.”

Ebanks kept his eyes on the numbers over the door. They lit up as the car passed the floors. “Such as?”

“Such as when you told him Dolan was murdered, he was pretty quick to finger Mrs. Batista, and when that didn’t pan out, he tried to hand us the Luccheses.”

Ebanks shrugged. “You heard him. He was just playing at CSI or Law & Order.”

“Maybe, but did you notice that his house is on that same lake as Dolan’s?”

“So? I used to have a place near there too.”

“Yeah, but the judge was at his house when Dolan was killed.”

Ebanks folded his arms across his chest and made an effort to look thoughtful. “You know, you’re right.”

The elevator doors opened on the ground floor. The two detectives walked across the lobby. The rookie’s thick eyebrows scrunched together whenever he was thinking something through. They were like that now.

“We had it backward,” Martinez said. He pushed forcefully through the revolving door at the courthouse entrance, and Ebanks followed him. When they were out on the street, Martinez said, “We thought Shadid was murdered and what happened to Dolan was an accident.”

“It does look like Shadid was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Ebanks said.

“You mean, it was only a coincidence?”

“Hmm,” Ebanks said. He nodded at the hot-dog cart on the corner. “Feel like a brat?”

“As long as they have mustard and kraut,” Martinez said.

The two detectives walked down the sidewalk.

“You know, I think the judge is as Old World as the Luccheses,” Martinez said. “All that JNOV stuff. What if he did let Dolan out on bail so he could, you know …”

Ebanks blew out a dismissive breath. “What the judge said about justice being done was just a joke.”

“He strike you as the joker type? All I’m saying is, anyone who can fix a busted pipe would know how to rig a furnace.”

Ebanks rolled his eyes. “You really think the judge killed Dolan?”

Martinez slowed to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the other pedestrians to flow around him like water around a rock. He turned and stared back at the courthouse.

“Yeah, I do. After lunch, let’s start at Dolan’s place at the lake. I’d like to look around some more.”

“Fine by me,” Ebanks said. “But I think you’re wasting your time.”