A Stranger on the Beach(74)

“Not exactly.”

“If it’s your word against hers, I can dirty her up and make her look bad. That creates reasonable doubt. But if the prosecution has forensic evidence against you, we could be in trouble, unless we discredit it somehow. In murder cases, there are two types of forensic evidence that really matter. The victim’s body. And the murder weapon. And here’s the interesting part. I asked Mike Castro if I could get the reports on the victim’s body and the murder weapon, and he hemmed and hawed and made noises about hurricane damage impeding the search. Do you know what that means? They don’t have them yet.”

“You mean—?”

“They don’t have the body or the murder weapon.”

“Murder weapon. See, that’s the thing I’m trying to tell you. I don’t own a gun. I’ve never had a gun.”

“Don’t tell me that now. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. And unfortunately, we probably will come to it. Bodies wash ashore. They get sniffed out by curious dogs. Any clever place you hide a gun—wedged under a sofa, thrown in the gutter near your house—somebody finds it. So.” She shrugged.

“But I don’t own a gun, I said.”

“We’re not discussing the facts right now.”

“Seriously. I don’t own a gun.”

“If and when they find a gun, we can argue it’s not yours. If the facts support that argument. The point is, we can’t rely on those things staying gone. You with me so far?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, next point. Whether you’re guilty or innocent, when they bring you to court, you’ll plead not guilty. And we’ll ask for bail. Depending on what evidence they have at that point, you may or may not get bail, but we’ll ask. Okay?”

“Yes. Good. I would like to get out of here.”

“Glad to hear it. That brings me to my next point. This is a corollary of don’t confess, and it’s the single, most significant thing I will ever tell you. Keep your mouth shut. You do not, under any circumstances, speak to anybody other than me about your case. That includes your brother, your mother, your cellmate, your best friend, your next-door neighbor. Not even your priest. You say you want to get out of here. I can tell you, the quickest road to life in prison is to shoot your mouth off. Do you understand?”

Aidan looked sheepish. “Yeah, uh, here’s the problem. I might’ve confessed already.”

She sighed loudly. “Oh, great. What did you say, Aidan, and to whom?”

“Mike Castro asked me if I killed the guy. Don’t worry, I didn’t say I killed him. But I might’ve said I wasn’t sure.”

“I don’t understand. Who’s not sure if they killed someone? You mean, you shot him, but you’re not sure he died?”

“No. I’m not sure if I shot him. I remember being with Caroline at her house, and her husband was pounding on the door. But I don’t, I can’t—it’s like I blacked out at some point. I don’t remember anything after that knock on the door.”

“You’re telling me you blacked out and you don’t remember whether you killed a man? I know we said not to talk about the facts of the case. But seriously? Come on.”

Aidan closed his eyes, and the insides of his eyelids were red, like blood. He opened them again and looked at his hands. He could still feel the stickiness of the blood there. He could still see it swirling down the drain when he washed. But try as he might, he couldn’t remember how it got there. He didn’t recall doing the killing.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t remember,” he said.

“That sounds like bullshit to me, kid,” Lisa said. “You know, I’ve been defending homicide cases for fifteen years. You’re the first guy who ever tried to pull that one.”

“But it’s true.”

“I’m your lawyer, Aidan. If you lie to me, it makes it a lot harder for me to help you.”

“I’m not lying.”

“That remains to be seen, but let’s move on. You say the husband came to the door. And found you with his wife.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t tell Castro that, did you? ’Cause if you admitted the affair, and being present on the night of the murder, you’re halfway to screwed, and I’ll tell your brother to save his money.”

“No. Mike asked me if I did it, and all I said was, I’m not sure. I didn’t say anything else. Not another word.”

She exhaled. “Well, thank God for small favors, I guess. Saying you’re not sure you murdered the victim is pretty bad. But admitting that you were at the scene of the crime at the time of the murder having an affair with his wife? That’s worse, because it’s so specific. The first thing, we can say you were confused, or didn’t understand the question. The second thing looks like a motive. It makes the jury think you did it. Now, tell me, were you by any chance under arrest when Castro questioned you?”

“I was down on the ground with his knee in my back and the cuffs on. But he didn’t tell me my rights yet. Is that arrest?”

She nodded. “It is, and since he didn’t read you your rights, I should be able to get the ‘I’m not sure’ statement thrown out.”

“Can I say something? If I did kill Stark, it wasn’t because I wanted to steal his wife. Jason Stark is an animal. He cheated on her. Humiliated her publicly by bringing his mistress around. Then he threatened her life, and possibly hired a hit man to kill her. I don’t remember killing him. But if I did, it was only to protect her.”