The Law Partners (Michael Gresham Legal Thriller Series Book 3) Read online

  "What is your occupation?"

  "I am the chief investigator for Michael Gresham and Associates."

  "What is your training as an investigator?"

  "Four years with Scotland Yard. Six years with Interpol. Two years Chicago Police Department. Five years private investigator licensure. Licensed by the States of Illinois and California. Training includes two police academies, undergraduate degree in police science, master’s degree in forensic science. Oh, yes, also served with the British Secret Service, MI5, on special deployment from Scotland Yard. That lasted another entire year."

  "So you have investigated numerous homicide cases, I presume?"

  "Probably in excess of one thousand."

  "Did you participate in an investigation in this case?"

  "Yes and no. When I began my investigation, Michael Gresham wasn't a party. But my investigation has continued even now that he is a defendant."

  "What has your investigation consisted of?"

  "Speaking to witnesses, reviewing and editing certain videos, studying the crime scene, interacting with both defendants, attending court mainly as an observer, and the usual other things PI's do. This includes picking up and dropping off evidence reports, lab reports, discovery documents, photographs, and articles. Plus, I have participated in pre-trial meetings firm-wide and one-on-ones with both you and Michael."

  "Did you have a chance in this case to attend at the crime scene where Darrell Harrow was shot to death?"

  "I did."

  "How did that come to pass?"

  "Michael called me en route to the scene. I responded and arrived there maybe ten minutes after him. I couldn't say exactly how long it was."

  "Describe what you saw when you arrived."

  "I entered the condo and immediately was confronted by a dead body on the living room floor. Later I would find out this was Darrell Harrow. I paused to get my bearings and to make sure I wasn't contaminating the scene as I moved on into the condo. Michael was there and Miranda Morales was there when I arrived."

  "What happened next?"

  "The three of us spoke."

  "Was Michael acting as Ms. Morales' attorney at that time?"

  "Yes, it's my understanding he was. So what they and I said is privileged."

  "Objection," said the District Attorney. "Invades the province of the court."

  "Sustained," said Judge Wang. "Mr. Rainford, the court will decide what is and isn't privileged. Please continue, counsel."

  "I am going to hand you what has been marked as Defendant's Exhibit One. Do you recognize the person in that photograph?"

  "I do. This is a photograph of Tory Stormont."

  "Is that a true and accurate portrayal of Mr. Stormont?"

  "It is. Mr. Stormont is a police officer with Chicago PD and I have obtained his jacket photo and compared it to Exhibit One. It's the same person."

  "Did you see Tory Stormont at the scene of the shooting?"

  "I did. He helped with the search of the premises."

  "Have you seen Tory Stormont since that night?"

  "I have, if you include video in that question."

  "I do. Please explain."

  The witness leaned back and studied the photograph for another moment, thinking.

  "All right. I have prepared a video that presents footage of Tory Stormont coming and going in the condominium building where Ms. Morales' condo is located. These are mostly parking garage and elevator camera images, but they do accurately portray Tory Stormont."

  At that point I asked the court for permission to run the video. Judge Wang readily agreed and the video was played for him. We also did the still shots and the close-ups and presented Michael’s smartphone snaps. When we were done, I continued with my questions.

  "Mr. Rainford, as the police officer Tory Stormont is viewed entering the elevators from Ms. Morales’ floor, do you notice anything unusual about him?"

  "Yes."

  "What is unusual about him?"

  "He's carrying a firearm in his right rear pocket. I have had the video analyzed and learned that the firearm is the same size as the firearm allegedly seized from the trunk of Michael Gresham's car."

  "Do you know, did any police officer or other person claim to have found the firearm at the scene of the crime?"

  "No one has made that claim, no."

  "And with regard to the firearm seized from the trunk of Michael Gresham's car, is that the same size as the firearm hidden on Officer Stormont' person as he's leaving the scene of the crime?"

  "Yes, and there's one other thing. My investigation didn't end there."

  "Please state that on the record."

  "I also learned from the sources at the condominium building that on the night of the shooting the key CCTV surveillance camera in the visitors' portion of the underground parking for the building was tampered with. It was turned away from Michael’s car. All video surveillance was lost in the area where Michael Gresham parked his car that night."

  "So you're saying with the weapon in Officer Stormont's trouser pocket that night, there was the opportunity to place that weapon in Michael Gresham's trunk when the video surveillance of his parked car was interrupted?"

  "That's exactly what I'm saying."

  "Your Honor, that is all."

  ADA Martha Reddy attempted to cross-examine but basically got nowhere. Marcel was well-schooled in cross-examination techniques and fielded and answered all questions perfectly. I offered no redirect examination and then told the court my presentation was concluded.

  Judge Wang then took over.

  "For openers, the Court concurs in the allegation of conflict of interest and for the record finds that such a conflict does in fact exist. Now the question becomes, is the conflict one that arises from the underlying factual predicates of both criminal cases--the one against Morales and the one against Gresham--or is a more troubling picture coming into focus here? A picture of the law enforcement authorities taking matters into their own hands by hiding evidence in Michael Gresham's car, namely the murder weapon, in order to create the conflict in the first instance?"

  Martha Reddy and I were both seated, raring to go as soon as he acknowledged us so that we could present our arguments.

  But he surprised us both, then, as he continued with his opening remarks.

  "So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to consider the search warrant's sworn affidavit, signed by Detective Jamison Weldon, and I'm going to consider the beating of Michael Gresham, while in the custody of Detective Jamison's employer, the Chicago Police Department, as a continuing act. Here's what this means. In and of itself, the affidavit signed by the detective which prompted me to issue a search warrant would appear to be circumspect on its face. There was no reason to doubt the facts sworn to and offered to me by the police department when I issued the search warrant. But now, a subsequent matter and other materials, namely the senseless beating of Michael Gresham and the video evidence just presented, have come to the court's attention. These developments compel this court to look retroactively at its original issuance of the search warrant."

  Counsel Reddy and I looked at each other. Sitting beside me, Michael nudged me with his knee and tossed me a sideways look. I could only shrug when the judge wasn't looking. I was clueless where this was going.

  Judge Wang then continued.

  "So here is what the Court is going to do. The Court is going to treat the State's objection to representation and the defense's motion to dismiss as part and parcel of the Court's visit back in time to the issuance of the search warrant. The Court, in re-visiting the search warrant issue, finds for the record that the search warrant for Michael Gresham's motor vehicle was issued in violation of the Defendant's right under the Constitutions of the United States and the State of Illinois not to be subjected to unreasonable searches and seizures. Again, this is predicated on what the court has found to be Detective Jamison Weldon's state of mind, which was that he was evidently willing to do or say a
nything to see Michael Gresham removed from this case. A state of mind that would go so far as to plant evidence on this lawyer and then come into my courtroom and raise hell because he deigned to still remain on the case and represent his client. Accordingly, the search and seizure of the handgun from Michael Gresham's automobile is ruled to have been done in violation of his Fourth and Fourteenth Amendment rights and therefore all evidence seized during that vehicular search must be suppressed and is, and will not be allowed into evidence before any jury or other trier of fact."

  Beside me the breath left Michael's body in one long outpouring sigh of relief. He dropped his head to his chest and I could see the tears.

  "Moreover, the court will also grant the Defendant's Motion to Dismiss. The indictment against Michael Gresham is hereby dismissed and he is set free and his bond exonerated. Ladies, have I left out anything?"

  "Judge, the State objects! We--"

  "Objection noted. Anything from the Defendant?"

  "Nothing further, Judge," I said.

  The judge then went on to say that he would issue a written opinion in support of the suppression of evidence and the dismissal of all charges against Michael. He then stood and abruptly exited the courtroom.

  Just like that.

  Michael turned to me and the tears came rolling down his cheeks.

  "My sweet God," he said and held out his arms to draw me near.

  I leaned into him and hugged him back. Danny came forward from the spectators' section and wrapped us in her arms too.

  As she was leaving, I said to the prosecutor, Martha Reddy, "Your client is still facing a Civil Rights lawsuit for money. I'm visualizing a copy of the judge's written findings blown up to whiteboard size and set on an easel in front of my jury. They will read that the judge found that your clients in fact created a case against Michael both with the planted weapon and the police brutality. From where I stand, ten million dollars seems cheap right now. After five o'clock today let's just double that amount. Have a nice day."

  "And tell Jamison Weldon I said thanks for the money," Michael added. "I'm going to use part of it to fund full tuition packages for law students specializing in criminal defense. I might even name the scholarship after him. Something for him to explain to his buddies down at the police station."

  For the first time since the hospitalization, his face brightened and he shook his shoulders and arms as if coming fully awake.

  "Damn, I could use a cup of coffee. Anybody coming with me?"

  Danny and I held hands and skipped up the courtroom aisle—her huge pregnant belly made her progress more like lunging than skipping, but you get the idea. When we pounded out through the doors, DA Reddy was nowhere to be seen.

  Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when the chief of police took that call.

  Oh, yes, Danny delivered the Gresham’s first son at four a.m. the next morning. He was named Michael and came in at eight pounds twelve ounces. Michael called me that morning and said he wouldn’t be available for a few days. There was a new son to be welcomed into the family and he wasn’t going to miss a minute of it.

  I didn’t blame him one bit and made a mental note not to call him. At one moment two days later, I forgot my mental note and dialed his number with a question.

  The call went straight to voice mail.

  He wasn’t kidding about the new son being the most important thing in his life at the moment.

  So I left my message and hung up, happy for him, happy for Danny, and happy for having had the luck of drawing Judge Wang on Michael’s case.

  Michael Gresham

  29

  "Michael Gresham," Danny says to me a week after my case is dismissed, "you're walking around here whistling, playing with Dania and cooing at Mikey and digging in my garden. It all makes me believe you're doing much better. Maybe even better than ever."

  I stop what I am doing--spreading mayonnaise on my ham sandwich--and look up at her. She is right. I do feel good.

  "You're right," I say. "I'm back."

  "So I think it's time you did something nice for your staff. Everyone has stood by you and soldiered on even in the darkest of dark days. None of your work went undone and terrific results have been obtained so far."

  "This is going to come to something I'm not going to like, right?" I say.

  She looks at me. She is a loving wife but she knows I have her number. Which isn't to say she doesn't have my number too, she does. We are interdependent in a healthy way. In our world it has sometimes been our interdependence that has kept us bound together as a fighting unit even when one of us was badly injured in body or spirit.

  "You're going to like it. I'm going to propose you take the staff on a long weekend getaway.”

  "Okay. Where to?"

  "Well, you loved Rosarito when we went there. Why not take them there? It's right on the beach with great food and lobster grills, mariachis, the whole nine yards. The gang at the office will love it."

  "I think we take Harley with us too. If she'll go. She's performed above and beyond."

  "That would be terrific. Ask her, if you want."

  "I do. I owe her so much."

  Arrangements are made with our nanny to care for Dania and Mikey while we're away. The nanny and her mother are going to stay in our house with our daughter and son and keep things as normal as possible. So that's a relief and we're one step closer to being on our way.

  We charter a small jet. We load up all the lawyers, paralegals and secretaries, and fly west to San Diego. Along the way, there are card games, a game of craps in the tail of the plane that you can get into if you are crazy enough, and there are TV shows and movies. After changing a pending court hearing, Harley is able to accompany us. She is delightful, and brings along what Danny and I can only conclude is a boy toy, as he must be at least 15 years younger than her. We're introduced and learn, much to our chagrin, that he is actually her son from a marriage long ago extinguished. He now lives with his father, a pilot for United Airlines.

  When we land in San Diego, it's sunny and warm and the outlook is for more of the same. I have chartered five SUVs. We load up luggage, someone's guitar, the cat of one of our paralegals who has been unable to find cat-sitting services, snack food and we head for the Mexican border fifteen miles south of San Diego. Just across the border, the traffic gets heavy and turns into stop-and-go bumper tag. As we inch along, roadside vendors are selling anything and everything that can be made from wood or ceramics. Crosses, praying hands, statutes of the Virgin, and all the rest of the religious iconography associated with Latin American populations are everywhere we look. Then there are the modern day icons: L.A. Lakers' shirts, Chargers' hats, Padres' coffee mugs, and Dodgers' sweats. Hundreds of pounds of these items are sold each day at the border, northbound and southbound. Our SUV opts for churros all around and soon we are munching on the sugary donuts as we head into the Mexican interior.

  We check into the Rosarito Beach Hotel, all twenty-six of us on the same floor. From our windows we can look out on the beach and the Pacific Ocean, one of the nicest views I've ever been favored with by a hotel. Around three o’clock Mira arrives at the hotel. She has come by a separate air carrier after we cleared it with the court for her to attend.

  Then a strange thing happens. At just after four o'clock in the afternoon there's a knock on our door. Danny opens it and I hear her arguing with someone. At least it sounds to me like they're arguing; Danny is quite fluent in Spanish and the words being exchanged are all in Spanish. The door then closes and she returns to me in the living room of our suite.

  "What was that?" I ask.

  She has a puzzled look on her face; she's frowning as well.

  "Hotel security. They're saying that a bomb threat has been called in. The Rosarito police are searching the rooms below us and they would like all of us to go downstairs and gather out on the beach. They were quite adamant that we leave our room this very minute. The chief of security is thinking maybe someone in o
ur group called in the threat. I told him that was impossible, that none of our people would ever do such a thing. He wasn't convinced and we had words. So up and at 'em."

  We gather together our wallets and Danny's purse and my fanny pack and head out for the elevators. The hotel takes drink and appetizer orders all along the beach and over the next hour we're all served our favorite beverages and eating finger food. Harley sits with Danny and me; her son is taking his first surfing lesson and we watch as he repeatedly struggles to get up on his board and immediately falls to one side or the other. The waves carry him ashore and then he's immediately paddling out again, where his instructor is waiting beyond the breakers, a huge smile on his face. So that's all good.

  "So what about this bomb threat?" Harley says. "I didn't think they had terrorism in Mexico."

  "They don't," Danny replied. "I'm thinking they wanted access to all of our rooms for some reason."

  "Well, they're searching them as we speak," Harley said. "What do you think, Michael?"

  "I honestly don't know what to think. But let me ask. Are you playing with the idea that it might have something to do with Mira's case?"

  Harley pushes back in her beach chair and clenches her hands.

  "Damn! I want to say no way, but my B.S. antennae are up. There's something bogus about all this."

  "Exactly," Danny agrees. "It’s just too convenient to have a bomb threat the same day we check in. Almost the same hour."

  "Well, we'll keep our eyes open," I'm saying when Marcel comes strolling up the beach. He's found a quiet spot to the north a hundred yards or so, and is spending some time with Mrs. Lingscheit (who's actually divorced, but still prefers the "Mrs." tag).

  He plops down in the sand beside me.

  "What are you thinking, Boss?" he asks me.

  I look at Danny and Harley.

  "There is a consensus among my little group that this is just too coincidental. Harley is wondering if Mira's case has followed us to Mexico."

  Marcel nods. "I'm with Harley. I'll need to search everyone's room before we go inside again. I'm going to pass the word and get everyone ready to cool their jets while I just give everyone's room a quick once-over. You on board with that, Boss?"