Slow Kill - Michael Mcgarrity [61]
The expression on Griffin’s face turned from smug to stunned. “What?”
“All neatly wrapped in plastic bundles.”
“That’s not mine,” Griffin said. “I don’t know anything about that shit.”
“Regardless of who it belongs to,” Delgado said, putting a hand on Griffin’s shoulder to shut him up, “it’s still part of an illegal search.”
“That’s yet to be determined,” Foyt said, switching his gaze from Delgado to Griffin. “Whose grass is it?”
“Not mine,” Griffin repeated hotly.
“Let me do the talking, Mitch,” Delgado said.
Griffin shook his head and the swept-back hairs on his forehead flopped and waved. “That’s not my toolbox. It was left there by one of my subcontractors last week.”
“Does this person have a name?” Ramona asked.
Delgado held up a hand. “Stop right there. This goes no further unless we have a deal.”
Ramona watched Foyt think it through. If he went for Delgado’s deal, he’d earn bragging rights for nailing three bad guys in one fell swoop and have one less case to prosecute. Faced with the possibility that the judge would rule in favor of Delgado’s motions, Ramona didn’t think Foyt would turn her down.
“Griffin gives us the marijuana dealer,” Foyt said, “tells us what he knows about the Spalding homicide, and pleads out to intent to distribute.”
“Unacceptable,” Delgado replied. “This is his first offense.”
“No, it’s just the first time he’s been caught,” Ramona said.
Delgado sighed as she reached for her notecase. “I’m sorry we couldn’t reach an agreement. We’ll see you in court.”
“But,” Foyt said, “if Mr. Griffin would show some good faith and tell us what he knows about the Spalding murder case, I’ll consider dropping the current charges.”
“Agreed.” Delgado nodded at Griffin.
He looked directly at Pino. “Like I told you, I never slept with Claudia Spalding, but I know this guy who said he did. He works as a wrangler at a horse rescue ranch down by Stanley, in the southern part of the county, or at least he used to. I haven’t seen him in years.”
“Go on,” Ramona said.
“Anyway, Claudia was like a big supporter of the program, gave it money and volunteered to tour the schoolkids around who’d come out to the ranch on field trips. This guy tells me that he got pussy action from her, but cut it off when she asked him to help her arrange a little accident for her husband.”
“What kind of accident?” Ramona asked.
“She wanted to bring Spalding down to the ranch, have the guy take them both out on a horseback ride, and then fake a bad fall. You know, the horse spooks, throws Spalding, and he dies in front of two witnesses.”
“When was this?”
“While I was building her house, before she met Kim.”
“Give me a name,” Ramona said.
“Coe Evans,” Griffin said. “I haven’t seen him in two, three years.”
Ramona got a physical description of Coe Evans and the location of the ranch before Delgado stopped the questioning, gave Foyt a toothy smile, and asked him to affirm the agreement.
Foyt met her smile with a cool look. “Only if your client is willing to give us the names of everyone he’s sold to, every dealer and supplier he knows, precise information about this subcontractor he says stored the marijuana in his garage, and agrees to testify against Dean on both the murder and drug charges, if needed.”
Griffin nodded. “That’s cool with me. When can I get out?”
“As soon as you deliver,” Ramona said, getting to her feet. “I’ll have detectives here within the hour. How long it takes is completely up to you.”
Foyt used his cell phone to clear his calendar for the remainder of the day so he could supervise the interrogation, and joined Ramona at the door.
“I’m hungry,” Griffin said, grinning and patting his stomach.
“We’ll have your lunch brought in,” Ramona said. She walked with Foyt to the lobby and used her cell phone to arrange for a narcotics officer and detective to meet her at the jail pronto.
“You’re not disappointed with the plea bargain, are you?” Foyt asked.
“A little bit,” Ramona said, slipping the phone on her belt. “But I understand your reasoning.