The Color of Law_ A Novel - Mark Gimenez [138]
Scott walked over to the witness stand and placed the pad and pen in front of Delroy.
“Mr. Lund, would you please sign your name?”
Delroy shrugged, picked up the pen with his right hand, and signed his name.
“You’re right-handed, Mr. Lund.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“So the FBI’s forensic expert testified that the person who shot Clark McCall was right-handed. You’re right-handed, the murderer was right-handed. The murder occurred in Dallas on June fifth, you were in Dallas on June fifth.”
“Ninety percent of the people in this room are right-handed. And more than that were in Dallas on June fifth.”
“Yes, but none of them had a reason to kill Clark McCall, did they?”
“You’ll have to ask them.”
“I’ll ask you: Did you kill Clark McCall?”
The judge was studying the witness when Ray Burns stood to object. “Your Honor—”
“Sit, Mr. Burns,” the judge said without removing his gaze from Delroy. Ray sat. “Answer the question, Mr. Lund.”
Delroy said, “No, I didn’t kill Clark. Why would I want him dead? I work for his dad.”
“Who wants to be president.”
“So?”
“So if it became known that his son used cocaine and engaged prostitutes and maybe even raped a few girls, Senator McCall’s chances of getting into the White House would be about as good as the defendant’s, isn’t that true?”
Delroy snorted. “Give me a fuckin’ break.”
The judge: “Mr. Lund, watch your language.”
Delroy said, “Hell, if having a screwup for a kid was a motive for murder, half the politicians in D.C. would’ve already killed their kids. I don’t know nothing about rapes, but you think Clark was the only politician’s kid out drinking and doing drugs and other stuff their daddies want to keep quiet? The town’s full of ’em, rich kids who had life handed to them on a silver platter then shit on it.”
“Mr. Lund, why did you decide to get laid in Dallas on June fifth?”
Delroy shrugged. “Most beautiful women in the world are in Dallas.”
“That may be true, but you work for Senator McCall in Washington. Certainly you could have found an acceptable prostitute in the nation’s capital so you could remain in town, especially since two days later, on June seventh, the senator was scheduled to announce his campaign for the presidency. But instead of staying in D.C., you came to Dallas on June fifth to get laid, on the same day Clark came to Dallas? Mr. Lund, did you come specifically to kill Clark?”
Delroy sighed. “I said, I didn’t kill Clark.”
“Then why did you come to Dallas? Why did you leave Washington two days before Senator McCall’s big day? Why did you fly down to Dallas to pick up a prostitute instead of staying in Washington and protecting the senator—”
It hit Scott.
“That’s it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“It’s just that simple, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t come here to kill Clark. You came to Dallas to protect Senator McCall.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Mr. Lund, what usually happened when Clark was in Dallas?”
“I give, what?”
“He got in trouble. He always came home to get into trouble. Fact is, Clark was smart enough to get in trouble only in Dallas, because here his daddy could buy his way out of anything. The McCall name means something in Dallas. The McCall money can buy anything in Dallas—even seven rape victims.”
“Like I said, I don’t know anything about that.”
“And the last thing Senator McCall needed right before he announced for the presidency was Clark getting arrested, and not just for drinking or drugs—like you said, that’s common. But getting charged with rape, that’s not so common, is it? Particularly for the son of the next president. The press would go into a feeding frenzy, maybe even dredge up the other girls. The senator had spent millions to keep Clark’s past hidden so it wouldn’t ruin his political future. And now the presidency was his, he had a commanding lead in the polls,