Jack popped an ice cube in his mouth.
“He’s an arrogant asshole, pompous, bigoted and a terrific trial
lawyer.”
“Great.” Jack got up from his chair and sat down next to Kate. He took
her ankle and rubbed it. She sunk down into the sofa and put her head
back. It had always been that way with them, so relaxed, so comfortable
in the company of each other, like the last four years had never
happened.
“The evidence Frank told me he had wasn’t even close to getting an
indictment. I don’t understand, Jack.”
Jack slipped off her socks and rubbed her feet with both hands, feeling
the fine, tiny bones. “The police got an anonymous tip on the license
plate of a car seen near the Sullivan place on what was probably the
night of the murder. It was traced to the D.C. impoundment lot on that
night.”
“So. The tip was wrong.”
“No. Luther used to tell me how easy it was to pick up a car from the
impoundment lot. Do a job and then return it.”
Kate didn’t look at him, she appeared to be studying the ceiling.
“Nice little chats you two used to have.” Her tone held the familiar
reproach.
“Come on, Kate.”
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was weary again.
“The police checked the floor matting. Rug fibers from the Sullivan
bedroom were found there. Also present was a very peculiar soil mixture.
Turns out that exact same soil mix was used by Sullivan’s gardener in
the cornfield next to the house. The soil was a special blend made up
for Sullivan; you won’t find that exact composition anywhere else. I had
a chat with Gorelick. He’s feeling pretty confident I can tell you that.
I haven’t gotten the reports yet. I’ll file my discovery motion
tomorrow.”
“Again, so what? How does that tie in to my father?”
“They got a search warrant for Luther’s house and car.
They found the same mixture on the, floor mat in the car.
And another sample on the living room rug.”
Kate slowly opened her eyes. “He was in the house cleaning the damn
carpets. He could’ve picked up the fibers then.”
“And then he took a run through the cornfield? Come on.”
“It could’ve been tracked in the house by somebody else and he stepped
in it.”
“That’s what I would’ve argued except for one thing.”
She sat up. “Which is?”
“Along with the fiber and dirt, they found a petroleurnbased solvent.
The police pulled traces of it out of the carpet during their
investigation. They think the perp tried to clean some blood away, his
blood. I’m sure they’ve got a handful of witnessesready to swear that
there was no such thing used on that carpet prior to or at the time the
carpets were cleaned.
Therefore Luther could’ve picked up traces of the carpet cleaner only if
he had been in the house after that. Soil, fibers and carpet cleaner.
There’s your tie.”
Kate slumped back down.
“On top of that they traced the hotel where Luther was staying in town.
They found a fake passport and through that tracked Luther to Barbados.
Two days after the murder he flew to Texas, then Miami and then on to
the island. Looks like a fleeing suspect doesn’t it? They’ve got a
sworn statement from a cab driver down there who drove Luther to
Sullivan’s place on the island. Luther made a reference to having been
in Sullivan’s place in Virginia. On top of that they’ve got witnesses
who will testify that Luther and Wanda Broome were seen together several
times prior to the murder.
One woman, a close friend of Wanda’s, will testify that Wanda told her
she needed money, badly. And that Christine Sullivan had told her about
the safe. Which shows Wanda Broome had lied to the police.”
“I can see why Gorelick was so free with the info. But it’s still all
circumstantial.”
“No, Kate, it’s a perfect example of a case with no homerun direct
evidence linking Luther to the crime, but enough indirect stuff to where
the jury will be thinking ‘come on who are you kidding you did it you