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“All right,” he says. “It is what it is, another oldie but goodie.”
Ella Davis comes out. “Danny, if you don’t want to make the two-hour ride to Great Bend and answer our questions there, let’s get this show on the road.”
Ball smiles at her. “You are?”
“Inspector Davis, KBI, and I’m losing my patience. So is Frank.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want that, do we?” Ball says. “And since your valuable time is also my client’s valuable time, I’m sure Daniel will be happy to help you with your enquiries, so he can get back to his Saturday.”
22
There’s a rattling soft drink machine in the Manitou PD’s break room. There’s a counter with a coffee maker and a few pastries on it. The sign over the pastries says KICK A BUCK. On one wall is a plaque reading WE SERVE AND PROTECT. On another is a poster showing O.J. Simpson and Johnnie Cochran. The caption reads, IT DON’T MEAN SHIT IF THE GLOVE DOESN’T FIT. In the middle of the room there’s a table with two chairs on either side and a microphone in the middle. Between the drink machine and the pastry counter, a camera on a tripod blinks its red eye.
Jalbert spreads his hands at two of the chairs. Danny and his new lawyer take them. Ella Davis sits across from them and takes out a notebook. Jalbert stands, for the time being at least. He gives the date, the time, and the names of those present. Then he gives Danny the Miranda warning again, asking if he understands his rights.
“I do,” Danny says.
“Spoiler alert, Inspectors, I’m mostly a real estate lawyer,” Ball says. “I do land, I work with a number of local banks, I coordinate buyers and sellers, I write contracts, I write the occasional will. I’m no Perry Mason or Saul Goodman. Just here to make sure you are respectful and open-minded.”
“Who is Saul Goodman?” Jalbert asks. He sounds suspicious.
Ball sighs. “TV show. Fictional character. Forget it. Ask your questions.”
Jalbert says, “Speaking of respect, I want to tell you who deserved some—Yvonne Wicker. What she got instead was raped, stabbed repeatedly, and murdered.”
Ball frowns for the first time. “You are not prosecuting this case, sir. You are investigating it. Save the speeches and ask your questions so we can get out of here.”
Jalbert shows his pegs again in what he may assume is a smile. “Just so you understand, Mr. Ball. Understand and remember. We’re talking about the cold-blooded murder of a defenseless young woman.”
“Understood.” Ball doesn’t look cowed—at least Danny doesn’t think so—but the pleasant smile is gone.
Jalbert nods to his partner. Ella Davis says, “How are you this morning, Danny? Doing okay?”
Danny thinks, So it’s good cop and bad cop after all.
“Other than everyone in Oak Grove thinking I’m in police trouble, I’m doing all right. You?”
“I’m fine.”
“They’ll know what kind of trouble this is soon enough, won’t they?”
“Not from us,” she says. “We don’t talk about our cases until they’re made.”
But Becky will, Danny thinks. And once she tells Cynthia Babson, it’ll go viral.
“We’d like to have a peek at your phone,” Davis says. “Just a matter of routine. Would that be okay?” She’s giving him direct eye contact and a smile. “Just a look at your locations could eliminate you from our enquiries. Save time for us and trouble for you.”
“Bad idea,” Ball says to Danny. “I think they need a special search warrant for your phone, or they would have taken it already.”
Ignoring him, still wearing her best trust me smile, Davis says, “And you’d have to unlock it for us, of course. Apple is very touchy about the privacy issue.”
Jalbert has retreated to the pastry counter, content to let the good cop carry the ball, at least for now. As he pours himself some coffee he says, “It would go a long way toward establishing trust, Danny.”
Danny almost says You trust me about as far as you could throw this table, but keeps it to himself. He doesn’t need Ball—likeable, but clearly out of his depth—to tell him the less he says, the better. Hostile comments won’t help, no matter how much he’d like to make them. He can tell the truth; that won’t get him in trouble. Trying to explain the truth might.
Danny takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at it. 10:23 already. How the time flies when you’re having fun, he thinks, and puts it away again. “I’m going to wait on that until we see how this goes.”
“We don’t actually need a warrant,” Jalbert says. Now that he has his coffee, he’s retreated to the poster of O.J. and his lawyer.
