The Shooter

moment and felt its weight, hesitating before finally tossing it over.
“Anthony Waltz defended David Chesterfield in a sexual assault case. Chesterfield was a scumbag and was as guilty as they come. The fact that he walked was a disgrace, an embarrassment for our department. Just one terrible mistake after another, basically. The feeling in the whole office was horrible after that case. No one looked each other in the eye, nobody said hello in the mornings, and there was so much yelling in the halls. How could we mess that one up so bad? I’ll tell you how—the damn lawyer Waltz tricked our investigator. Nobody wants to admit it, but he outplayed us. It was as simple as that.”
Casey handed me the folder and I began idly glancing at the court documents. “Can you tell us anything about the victim, Jenny Carpenter?”
“Poor Jenny. Only twenty-five. I felt so terrible for her. She’d already been through enough in her life, and then she was raped by Chesterfield. Our office worked so hard to get her to testify and then to have the case thrown out part way through the trial… well, that was heartbreaking for everyone. We all lost sleep about her case.”
I stared at the photo of Jenny Carpenter in the file. Her eyes looked so broken, so lost, that even I felt a pang of regret that her case didn’t end with a better result. “Are there any other cases over the past year that match that sort of profile?”
Sarah paused for a long moment, and then sighed. “There’s a few, but this is one that I’d thought you’d like to look at. The lawyer’s name was Clarke Hudson. Five months ago, he walked another abuser out of court after he had a witness statement thrown out.”
“And where is Clarke Hudson now?” Casey asked as she flipped through the pages. “Still practicing in Chicago?”
“He’s dead.” Sarah’s voice was blunt, with no remorse for his passing. “And you’re right—he shot himself. Apparently, it was a surprise to everyone that knew him.”
Casey and I exchanged a glance. She handed me the latest file.
“Is there anything that these cases have in common, apart from the exonerations? Anything that you can see, from your perspective, that links them in any way?” I asked, my eyes still skimming the Clarke Hudson file.
“You mean apart from what you told me on the phone, that there are now three defense attorneys six feet under, all suicides by gunshot in the last fifteen months? No, there are no similar witnesses, linked pieces of evidence, or common locations that I can see. I’m sorry guys, but I don’t think I’ve got anything that will help you out on this one.”
“But if you did think there was a connection, who do you think would also fit the profile of these lawyers?” Casey leaned forward.
“You’re looking for the next victim?” Sarah asked, and Casey nodded her response. “Well, Larry Fittler would fit the profile. He came up in my search this morning. In fact, he’d be number one out of all these guys. High end lawyer, very arrogant, and defends rich people accused of rape and sexual assault. Last week, he got an accused pedophile off because there was a missing step in the paperwork. How ridiculous. A pedophile walks free because the paperwork wasn’t filed correctly, and the evidence couldn’t be used in court. Fittler’s client was guilty, no doubt, but he managed to escape any charges.”
“Sounds like our MO.” Casey looked at me. I nodded my agreement.
“You can try and talk to Larry Fittler and see what he thinks, but he’s not a nice guy. He’s sly, cunning, and thinks he’s better than everyone else. And he hates women. Thinks we’re to be seen and not heard. Yeah, he’s one of those types.” Sarah glanced up at the clock above the door. “Listen, if you have any more questions, I’ll be happy to help, but I have to run. My boss doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Thank you, Sarah.”
Casey caught me watching a little too closely as Sarah stood up, grabbing her suit jacket from behind the door and bending to pick up her briefcase from the floor next to her desk.
“Just step carefully around the cops that worked these cases.” Sarah led us to the door. “Cops don’t like it when they write something up as suicide, and then they turn out to be wrong. There’ll be people trying to stop you from doing anything with this.”
“Thank you for all your help, Sarah.” Casey said. “We really appreciate it.”
Casey and I walked out the door together, and said our goodbyes, before Sarah hurried off in the other direction. My eyes lingered for a moment while Sarah rushed away.
“Seriously, Jack, can you be any more obvious?” Casey said once the sounds of Sarah’s heels echoed down the hall. “You’re an embarrassment. Any chance you could try and keep it in your pants when we’ve got a case on the clock? A little professionalism would be nice.”
I laughed in response. “Settle down. A man can look and appreciate the fine form of a classy woman. And I’m an investigator. I notice how every time we go to the new coffee shop near our office, you check out the hipster barista with his long blonde hair and nose ring. His skinny jeans sure do give you a nice view of whatever it is that seems to make you smile.”
Casey felt herself blushing before she turned and strode towards the elevators.
“Ok. We’ll get to Larry Fittler’s law firm in the morning. Sound good?” She asked as the elevator doors closed.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” I said. “Let’s find out if he’s seen or heard from Jonathon DiMarco this week.”

Chapter 7
 
 
 


Larry Fittler’s office was slick. Nothing was out