7th Heaven - James Patterson [53]
“Man oh man.”
“Let me finish, Linds. He didn’t leave it in your apartment. I did.”
Chapter 71
MY MIND SCRAMBLED as I tried to understand what Conklin was telling me. “Say that again,” I demanded. When he answered, his voice was contrite.
“I left the book at your place.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
He had to be. I couldn’t imagine any circumstances under which Conklin would leave a fire and explosion manual in my fire-ravaged apartment.
“What happened is, I got together with Chuck, like you said to do,” Rich told me in measured tones. “We had a no-hard-feelings dinner and I picked up the tab. And I told him I’d like to learn more about fire investigation from him. I mean, he’s the pro.”
Rich paused for breath and I shouted at him, “Go on!”
“We went out to his car, Lindsay, he practically lives in that thing. Pop-Tarts wrappers all over the seats, his computer, clothes hanging from the —”
“Rich, for God’s sake!”
“So, just as he finds the fire investigations manual to lend me, Jacobi calls and tells me your apartment went up. I told Hanni, and he said, ‘I’ll drive,’ and I was still holding that book when we entered your place.”
“You put it down on the telephone table.”
“Didn’t think about it again until Jacobi called me,” Rich said miserably.
“Has Jacobi already spoken to Hanni?”
“No. He wanted to talk to me first. Hanni knows nothing about this.”
It took long seconds for me to sort it all out, put Chuck Hanni back into his role as friend, and realize that the essential truth hadn’t changed. I was shivering, and I wasn’t cold.
“Linds?” I heard Rich say.
“We still don’t know who set fire to my place or to any of the others,” I said. “We still don’t know anything.”
Chapter 72
THERE HAD BEEN a whole blessed week’s break while Judge Bendinger returned to physical rehab for his replaced knee. But the break was over. Bendinger was back. And Yuki now felt the tsunami effect of the whole freakin’ Junie Moon circus starting all over again, the out-of-control press, the pressure to win.
At nine o’clock sharp, court was called into session.
And the defense began to put on its case.
L. Diana Davis didn’t look up as her first witness came through the gate, passing so close she must have felt a breeze as his herringbone jacket nearly grazed her arm. Yuki saw Davis lean in and speak behind her hand to her client, all the while panning the gallery with her eyes. The TV cameras were running, and the reporters were packed in the rows at the back of the room.
Davis smiled.
Yuki whispered to Len Parisi, “There’s no place Davis would rather be. Nobody she’d rather defend.”
Red Dog smiled. “That beast is inside you, too, Yuki. Learn to love it.”
Yuki watched Davis pat her client’s hand as Lieutenant Charles Clapper, head of CSU, was sworn in. Then Davis stood and greeted her witness.
“Lieutenant Clapper, how long have you been head of the San Francisco Crime Scene Unit?”
“Fifteen years.”
“And what did you do before that?”
“I started with the San Diego PD right outta school, worked vice for five years, homicide for five. Then I joined the Las Vegas CSU before moving to San Francisco and joining the CSU here.”
“In fact, you’ve written books on trace evidence, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I’ve done a couple of books.”
“You appear on TV a few times a week, don’t you? Sometimes even more times than me,” Davis said, smiling widely, getting the laugh she wanted from the gallery.
“I don’t know about that,” Clapper said, smiling too.
“Very good. And how many homicides have you investigated in the last twenty-five years, Lieutenant?”
“I have no idea.”
“Take a wild guess.”
“A wild guess? Maybe a couple of hundred a year.”
“So it’s reasonable to say you may have investigated as many as five thousand homicides, is that right?”
“Roughly.”
“I think we can accept ‘roughly,’ ” Davis said, good-naturedly. “And as well as investigating fresh crime scenes, you investigate crimes that happened months or even years ago, is that correct?”
“I’ve investigated cold cases, yes.”
“Now, in April of this