A Cold Day in Hell Page 8

  Lauren had quietly unzipped her leather folio and began taking notes on the legal pad inside. Reese jumped in, “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  “I told the cops everything that night.”

  “Tell us again,” he prompted gently.

  “It was still early, around ten, when we got there. We walked, but it was nice out—not like now, not so sticky. A cook at my restaurant was in the band. He said it was ladies’ night and it would be a good time.” Her brown eyes bored into the center of her mug, as if she couldn’t look them in the eye because somehow she was to blame for her friend’s death. “I paid the cover for both of us. It was ten bucks, ladies drink free all night, so the place was packed. The band was good and loud, it was wall to wall people. You had to squeeze in between people to get a drink from the bar. I had to go to the bathroom, and Luz stayed back at the bar because we had a tiny spot and we weren’t giving it up. We were drinking rum and Cokes and laughing and not bothering anybody.”

  She brushed away a tear with the back of her hand, taking a deep breath. “When I come back there’s this blond woman—not nice blond like you, but bleached out with dark roots—and she’s screaming at Vinita. She’s trying to go after her and her boyfriend is holding her back, telling her to calm down.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like at all?” Lauren asked.

  “He was really tall, taller than you.” She motioned to Reese. “But skinny. And white. They were both white.”

  “Would you recognize them if you saw them again?” Reese shifted from foot to foot like he did when he got infused with nervous energy.

  Luz shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. It was so long ago.”

  “What happened next?” Lauren prompted.

  “The bouncer came out of nowhere and grabbed both of them, one in each hand, and dragged them through the crowd to the front door. Then he just pushed them outside. Me and the guy barely squeezed out before he shut the door. But the blonde, she wouldn’t stop. She was still screaming about Vinita trying to pick up her man. She was really drunk, staggering almost, and the guy was half holding her up, trying to pull her away. Vinita, she had a temper, and I guess she just had enough. She spit right in the woman’s face and told her to keep her man. I grabbed her then and we turned to go. Next thing I know the crazy bitch rushes Vinita from behind. It happened so fast. I thought she was punching her in the back. Then I saw the blood. The lady’s boyfriend dragged her off and there’s a knife sticking out of Vinita’s back.”

  Now the tears flowed freely as she choked back a sob. Lauren spotted a roll of paper towels next to the sink, got up, ripped off a square, and handed it to Luz.

  She clutched it to her face, trying to catch her breath. “I was screaming, screaming, screaming, but the windows were open and the band was playing. No one came, she just laid there, dying. The man took off with that woman. Another couple walking to the bar saw us and came running over. The lady stayed with me while her boyfriend ran into the bar. We were in the middle of the street. How could no one have seen us? How could they let her die like that?”

  “Luz,” Lauren said mildly, “we’re going to try to find out who did this to Vinita. Can you think of anything else that could help us? Did you hear one call the other by a first name?”

  She shook her head. “It all happened so fast. One minute I was in the bathroom, the next I’m kneeling in the street watching Vinita die.”

  “Can you tell me anything else about the woman? How old? How tall?”

  “She was maybe in her early twenties. She was my height, five-four or so, but a little chubby, like she had a gut. She wore a lot of make-up but it was sloppy, you know? The way drunks are sloppy. Him, I just remember being tall and skinny and wearing a jean jacket. I think I told the police that at the time.”

  “You did,” Reese reassured her. “We just need to hear it again.”

  “I hope you find that bitch.” Luz was shredding the paper towel now. “I hope you find her and she rots in jail. Vinita just wanted to listen to a band. She didn’t want no white boy scarecrow. She died for nothing.”

  Lauren reached over the table and put a hand on her arm. “We’ll do our best. I promise.”

  On the ride back to headquarters Reese was unusually silent. Lauren knew that meant he was mulling something over in that big melon of his. Finally, he asked her point blank, “Do you think it’s true? Do you think the detectives would have tried harder if a Puerto Rican girl stabbed a white girl?”

  “Then or now?”

  “Either.”

  She sighed as they passed City Hall. “Maybe just a little true.”

  19

  The Fourth of July fell on a Tuesday, so Violanti and Lauren spent the entire morning on Wednesday prepping David for the felony hearing. He wouldn’t have to testify, but he had to be prepared for what the prosecution was going to say that day. Violanti cautioned David not to utter a word, no matter what was said on the stand, and if he had anything to relate to him, he should write it on a legal pad. The good news was that Katherine Vine’s memorial service was that day, so the media would be split between covering both events and Anthony Vine and his entourage wouldn’t be there.

  David was nervous and Violanti went out to get him a soda to calm him down. He turned to Lauren as soon as he walked out. “Thanks for doing this for me. My uncle says you two don’t like each other.”

  “I’m interested in the truth, David. Uncle Frank and I will go on hating each other long after this is over,” she assured him. “Believe me. For now, we can put most of our differences aside and do our jobs.”

  “I still don’t understand what today is about.”

  “It’s called a felony hearing. The prosecution has to present just enough to convince the judge that a felony was committed. Which they obviously do. Usually the defense waives the hearing and the next step is a grand jury. Your uncle is going to run it because he gets to cross-examine the prosecution’s witnesses. It’s like a little fishing expedition.”

  “Don’t they have to turn over everything anyway?”

  “That’s called discovery and we won’t get that until after the grand jury, so this is our chance to see what they have so far and start building your defense.”

  He nodded. “I know Uncle Frank explained that to my mom, but she just doesn’t get it. She’s a wreck. I’m all she has.”

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “He died in a car accident when I was eleven. Uncle Frank was my dad’s best friend since high school. He tries to be, like, a father figure to me or something. But he’s not my dad, you know?”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” And she was. Being a single mom was the most difficult thing she’d ever done. Being a kid without a dad was even harder, she imagined.

  David shrugged. “Frank really took care of my mom after it happened. She went to pieces, just like now. He helped get her a job in his friend’s law firm and he helped pay all the medical bills. I hate that he has to do this for me. He’s always having to bail us out.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He just wants to help you.”

  “Everyone’s always trying to help me. You don’t even like him and you’re still helping me. I’m supposed to be taking care of my mom. Not Uncle Frank. I’m supposed to be the man of the family.” The frustration in his voice was touching. He wanted to do the right thing.

  She studied his face for a second. “That’s a lot to take on for a kid,” Lauren replied gently.

  He sighed and began tearing the edge off one of his legal papers. “I’m not a kid anymore, Detective Riley.”

  Violanti came in with the soda and put it down in front of David. “How are you feeling?”

  He leaned back in his seat, away from Lauren. He popped open the soda and took a gulp. “Scared. But Detective Riley explained things a little better.”

 
“I explained them to you six times already.”

  “Yeah, Uncle Frank, half the stuff you say sounds like legal bullshit. You’re like a used car dealer or something.”

  Lauren sank back in her chair and smirked at Uncle Frank.

  20

  The felony hearing went exactly as they thought it would. First, they put the medical examiner on, who described Katherine Vine’s injuries and the cause of death. Next they put Jose Franco, the night security guard, on the stand. He recalled seeing David in the parking lot approximately an hour and a half after the boy’s shift ended. Violanti had no questions for either of those witnesses.

  Joe Wheeler was the last one to be called up to the stand. Because he was a witness he had to sit out in the lobby during the hearing while the others testified. Now he strolled up to the front of the courtroom in his black suit, hair slicked back, with a smug look on his face. He didn’t make eye contact with Lauren or even glance in her direction. The prosecutor went through Joe’s case with him step by step. He secured the scene, got phone records, interviewed the witnesses, developed his suspect, picked him up, and, after consulting with the district attorney, arrested David Ryan Spencer for the murder and rape of Katherine Vine. Violanti was furiously scribbling notes on his legal pad the entire time Joe was speaking.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Lynn Ferro turned to the judge and stated, “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  Judge Shea addressed Violanti now. “Mr. Violanti, your witness.”

  He jumped up in that Jack Russell terrier way he had and walked over to the witness stand. Joe looked down on him with an air of total confidence. He was convinced that he had presented an air-tight case that was only going to get better by the time Frank Violanti was stupid enough to take it to trial.

  “Just one question, Mr. Wheeler.”

  Joe nodded in triumph at Violanti’s lack of a defense strategy.

  “Can you tell me what happened to Detective Lauren Riley’s face?”

  Lynn Ferro jumped up in her seat. “Objection! Relevance and calls for speculation.”

  Violanti crossed his arms, glaring at Joe as he spoke. “I assure you, his answer would be firsthand and not speculative.”

  Joe’s face had fallen into a look of panic.

  “Mr. Violanti,” the judge began, “I’m aware of your courtroom antics. Miss Riley’s appearance today has no relevance to the matter at hand. Objection sustained. If that was your only question for this witness, you may step down, Detective Wheeler.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Violanti said. “That was the only question I had.” He winked at Lauren as he walked back to the defense table. Joe Wheeler practically ran from the witness stand, slamming the door to the courtroom behind him.

  21

  Bail denied again, the matter was set for grand jury. Sarah Spencer managed to hug her son before an officer came to take David back to the holding center. Joe Wheeler was nowhere to be found as Lauren and Violanti made their way through the throng of reporters to his car. Violanti wasn’t taking any chances of another encounter with Joe. Picking Lauren up that morning in his private vehicle, he had parked it right in front of the courthouse, so as not to repeat any more abuse from the arresting officer.

  Lauren got in next to Violanti as the cameras swarmed all around them. They both had no commented all the way to the car. Now Lauren turned to Violanti. “I gotta hand it to you, Violanti. I didn’t see that one coming.”

  He grinned his little-boy smile and pulled away from the curb. “Neither did he. Threw him off his high horse, the dickhead.”

  “You know something, Violanti?” Lauren half twisted in her seat to face him. “You really know how to work a witness. When you do it to me, it’s not so funny. Today, it was priceless.”

  “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

  She smiled. “And it’s the nicest thing I ever will.”

  Letting herself into her house a half hour later, the stillness caused a pang in Lauren’s heart. When Lindsey and Erin were growing up the house was a buzz of activity. Now it seemed too big, too empty for just her. Sure, the girls called home at least once a week to tell her how things were going. But when both of them had decided to do summer internships, Lauren’s heart almost broke. It was bad enough that they both were away at the same time, but that was adding insult to injury. For nineteen years she had put her daughters first, and now all she had was a great big, beautiful, empty house. Thanks to Mark.

  Mark Hathaway had paid the entire mortgage off when he divorced her—out of guilt, she assumed. It had saved her a ton of money over the years, enabling her to put away for the girls’ college tuition. Mark still spoke with both of the girls, which his wife, Amanda, hated but tolerated. He even came all the way to New York City to see Lindsey’s Irish dance team compete in the Nationals when she was thirteen. She didn’t like to admit it, but Mark was always there for the girls. In later years it was just birthday and Christmas presents, sometimes the occasional phone call, but he never cut the strings with them.

  She hadn’t seen the divorce coming. One day, he’d come home from work and announced he was taking them all to Disney. Lauren called into work and he had whisked them first class to Orlando. They’d stayed the weekend and come home happy and tired. The next week Mark blindsided her, telling her he’d gotten his secretary pregnant, and he was moving out. Or more precisely, Lauren told him he was moving out.

  They’d had three years together: One dating, one engaged, and one married. It hadn’t been enough. It still wasn’t enough. She felt cheated. Hell, she had been cheated.

  Still, Lauren couldn’t help sometimes remembering how she and Mark spent their honeymoon in Paris, holding hands under the Eiffel Tower. She’d thought to herself, How could this gorgeous, rich, wonderful man want me? She had been under the delusion they’d been truly happy together. Just to have it all thrown in her face.

  She was vaguely thinking of him when her phone rang. It was almost like he could hear her thoughts and now he was on the line. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asked him, the old familiarity flooding back to her.

  “I went to Katherine Vine’s memorial today. Can I come over? I think I found out something you can use.”

  I can be strong, she thought after she hung up with him. I had one moment of weakness in all these years. I’m only human. It was a mistake. We can still talk, and be friends, and that’s it.

  She poured two glasses of wine as she waited for him to come over.

  22

  “I love what you’ve done to the place,” Mark said stepping into her living room.

  Stop it, she thought. Why are you making small talk? Watching him, Lauren could sense how at home he seemed. He had lived there with her and the girls for a little over a year.

  Lauren remembered house hunting together after their engagement and finding this place. He had loved it right away. At the time, he was just starting to make a name for himself as a corporate lawyer. Mark was a trust fund kid who had never wanted for anything in his life. Walking in, holding Erin’s hand, he told the realtor, “We’ll take it,” without even knowing the price.

  “Thank you,” was all she could manage to say without the bitterness creeping in.

  He peeled off the jacket of his lightweight, gray pinstripe suit and handed it to her. “It was so humid in the church, a woman passed out.”

  “Wine?” She motioned to the table and hung his jacket in the front hall closet, just like she had when they were married, after he’d come home from the office. While she had gotten new furniture over the years, most of the house had not changed. All around were reminders of their life together, from the antique clock over the fireplace to the custom crown moldings that ringed the ceiling, to the Tiffany-style floor lamp with its ornate glass shade in the far corner. All picked out by them, together, for the life they had planned to have in that h
ouse. Now the furnishings were still there and he was gone.

  He took the glass between his fingers and settled back into her couch. “I thought today was your day off?”

  “I had to go to that felony hearing.” She took her suit jacket off too. She didn’t bother to hang it up, draping it over the back of the wing chair instead, and sat down. It felt to Lauren like he had never left, like she’d dreamed it all. There he was sitting across from her, discussing his day like they had when they were still married. The girls should be upstairs doing their homework. She would’ve rushed home to have dinner ready. Everything was perfect. Except it wasn’t.

  “What happened at the memorial?” Lauren was cradling her own glass of wine between her fingers. She was trying to snap out of it. To focus on the case and not on him.

  He laughed. “All business.” He took a drink and went on, “After the service at the church, there was a brunch at Carlotta’s. Amanda and I went—”

  “Where was little Mark?” she interrupted. Amanda’s very name caused an ugly jealousy in her. Raised the eternal question: what did Amanda possess that Lauren didn’t? Why were they still married whereas she and Mark hadn’t even made it to their second anniversary?

  “At day camp,” he snapped. “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “I’m sorry. Go on.” She was sorry, a little. No need to be resentful years later, she thought.

  “After brunch, Jeffery Peters pulls me aside. He’s one of the partners at Jenson, Peters and Grace. He said he saw you on television and he wants to set up a meeting with you and one of his investigators. Apparently, this guy was working for Katherine Vine. He gave me his card to pass on to you.” Mark reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a business card. He set it down on the table. “He said there’s more to this than some kid. The investigator’s number is on the back.”