The Shooter

they?”
“I hope not.”
“So, what’s your take then?” Casey asked.
“My gut says he’s a loose cannon with the skills to shoot a guy in the neck and make it look like suicide, but we need proof. We can’t go after a guy like DiMarco without evidence. We wouldn’t want him to run now that he knows that we’re onto him. We need to find proof before he shoots through on this one… Get it?”
Casey gave me a steady stare, without blinking.
“Too soon?”
“Way too soon.” She shifted her eyes to the road ahead of us again. “If Waltz didn’t do it himself, then I think DiMarco’s good for it.” Casey sniffed at her clothing, still covered in the smell of the cleaning products. She pulled out her cell phone and tried to clear the image of the basement from her mind. “I mean, I know we called the creepy thing early, but did you expect that?”
“No one in their right mind ever expects a room full of road-kill and a complete load of BS about justice and power and killing for balance.” I glanced at her, eyebrows raised, running one hand through my short dark hair. “He’s a killer. That’s clear. Being a cop meant that he could do it during his work hours, but since he’s retired, he turns to a new outlet for it.”
“The question is whether he killed Waltz,” Casey said. “That was a pretty crazy story. About his guilt, I mean. I didn’t expect that. He said that years ago, he got off assault charges because he had a good defense lawyer. Then he goes on to work for another ten years, before retiring. He’s had the benefit of a good defense lawyer, and now he doesn’t want anyone else to have the privilege. Do you agree with him? About the defense lawyers, I mean?”
“They have a role to play. They have to be that brick wall for the justice system, otherwise it opens the cops and the prosecution up to even further corruption. The defense lawyers have to do their best for their clients. If they don’t, the system falls apart.” I sighed. “And we live in a capitalist society. If people see an opportunity to make money, they’ll exploit it. Lawyers aren’t immune to that desire. It’s the way of the world.”
“Do they have an oath, like doctors do? The Hippocratic oath says that doctors have to use their skills to help anyone, no matter the circumstances.”
“Lawyers have an oath. To be admitted to the bar, they have to swear to promote, uphold and protect the Constitution of the United States.”
“Words only mean so much.” Casey returned to staring out the window along the Interstate, watching the world fly past. I could almost hear the thoughts clunk in her mind. She typed a few more commands into her phone and then turned back to me. “So, what next?”
“We’ll swing past the State’s Attorney’s office. Find out who was the prosecutor on the cases of our dead lawyers. We need to try and make a link between Anthony Waltz and Jeffery Stone. My gut feeling is, once we find the connection, we find the motive. And from there it’s all blue skies and solved cases.”
Casey rolled her eyes at my easy-going attitude but I could tell that a part of her wished she could be a little more relaxed. She found it difficult not to let casework consume her every thought, to the point that she often struggled to exist in her world outside of work. No wonder she couldn’t hold down a steady relationship for more than five months. Not many men understood the effects of dealing with the darkest side of humanity.
Casey moved her focus back to her cell. “Ok, I just got an email from our client, Kenneth Daley. He’s managed to get the forensics report from the police. No obvious signs of DNA, no discernable fingerprints, and the only fingerprints on the gun were Waltz’s. The gun is registered to Waltz, so it looks like it may have been in the safe. And it looks like the bullet is a match, but we have to wait for the ballistics report to confirm. So, basically, a whole lot of sweet nothing.”
“Nothing ‘sweet’ about it. Disappointing, but not altogether unexpected.”
After a few moments of driving in silence, my mind drifted away from the room full of dead animals.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Casey asked, still scrolling through the emails on her phone.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. I told someone I’d try and be somewhere this afternoon. That was obviously before I realized I had to strap on my cape and chase down a serial killer. At least I’ve got my trusty sidekick to help me.”
I gave Casey my cheekiest smile and for a moment she was surprised, but then she punched my arm. Hard.
“Hey, watch it. I’m trying to drive here. The last thing we need is me out of action and you behind the wheel. The good people of this city are not ready for the Dakar Rally on their streets.”
She flipped her middle finger up at me and then turned to face the front again, happy to be back to seeing me as a pretentious pain in her ass. “You’re hilarious, Jack.”
“I know, just another one of my many charms. Now, seeing as though I’m setting a good example for investigators everywhere, can you grab my cell and send a quick message?”
“Oh sure, how many kisses and hugs should I put at the end? And do I call her Blondie, or does she have a name?”
“I actually need you to send a text to Mick. Tell him I’m sorry I can’t make it to the game, but I’ll try my hardest to be at practice on Friday. And wish him good luck.”
“Who’s Mick?”
“Just a kid