Pas de Deux

Chapter 3-2

Duke hadn’t actually expected James Scott to be there. When he’d received notification that Scott had booked time with Hector Young, he’d scoffed at first at the unusual hour the lawyer had chosen for his meeting. Some discreet checking around had revealed that was actually a common occurrence for Scott, but a part of Duke had been reluctant to believe it. Scott was working pro bono. This sort of work ethic suggested he was taking the case far more seriously than most camera whores. Duke didn’t really want to believe that to be true.

Until he had come face-to-face with the man himself.

Still, he knew when retreat was necessary. Young was guaranteed right to counsel, and Duke, appearances to the contrary, would never infringe upon that. He would, however, wait until Scott was done to go in and meet Young himself. He needed a better impression of the man than the fleeting moments he’d been in the room. That time had been reserved for Scott, and Scott alone.

He sat at a small, wrought iron table in front of the café across the street, waiting for the hours to pass until he could get in to see Young. The sidewalks were virtually empty at this time of the morning. The city had not yet awakened to embrace the day. Overhead, the sky was gloomy and low, the marine layer cloaking the peninsula and the bay for several more hours yet before the sun burned it away. Appropriate. He was in a somber, contemplative mood today. The outset of a new case—or at least, new to him—always turned his thoughts inward.

“Is this seat taken?”

The voice startled him from his notepad. Now blocking Duke’s view of the street, James Scott smiled down at him with far more cheer than he thought appropriate for the situation, hazel eyes twinkling to match. His expensive suit hung from his broad shoulders in an obvious custom job, hiding what looked to be a trim, muscular body, and Duke stifled his swell of respect for a man who didn’t let his desk job get in the way of staying fit. Scott likely did it to look good for the cameras that always gravitated his way.

And he was still inexplicably smiling at him.

Closing his notebook, Duke glanced at his watch and frowned. “You still have time left with your client. Has he decided to confess already?”

“My client has nothing to confess.” He didn’t wait for an invitation to sit down. “I’ve decided the rest of the interview could wait until tomorrow morning, and in the meantime, the two of us could get to know each other better.”

Duke stared at him. He had to have misheard. “Excuse me?”

“Like it or not, we’re probably going to be seeing a lot of each other over the next few days. And I don’t know anything about you except your name.”

Apparently, he’d heard correctly, though Scott’s explanation did little to make Duke feel better about it. “I’m not your client, Mr. Scott. The only thing you need to know about me is a matter of public record.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that’s the case. For example, the reason for the sudden reassignment is not a matter of public record, but I’m sure it’s fascinating.”

“And not relevant.”

“I disagree. Somebody decided to switch horses midstream; I’d say it’s hugely relevant.”

He couldn’t resist. “Then I suggest you follow proper channels and contact Captain Finn Sager yourself, since he’s the one who decided upon the reassignment. I can bend many things to my will, but my captain’s choices are not some of them.”

Scott smiled. “Is that your way of telling me you didn’t ask to be assigned to this case?”

“That’s my way of telling you, I’m not going to fall for your head games. Save yourself the time and don’t try.”

“Head games? Asking you a straightforward question is just about as far from a head game as one can get. Fine, let’s talk shop.” Scott leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Why do you think DA Horan’s stalling the arraignment?”

He didn’t care for this line of questioning either. He’d had the case for less than twenty-four hours, and though he’d spent his every free moment reviewing the notes, he still didn’t consider himself well-versed enough in the details to hazard a well-informed guess like Scott wanted.

“I find it curious that my opinion matters to you at all,” he said. “Since you knew who I was when I walked into your meeting, I think it’s safe to assume you know that I was only just assigned to the case yesterday. So why would you want to know what I think, when I’ve barely had a chance to read through the whole case file?”

“Because you were assigned for a reason, and I’m going to find out what that is, even if you won’t tell me. Because twenty-four hours is more than enough time to form an opinion on this case. You must be familiar with all the evidence against my client at this point. There isn’t much, after all.”

“But again, my opinion isn’t relevant.” For as frustrating as he found Scott’s direct approach, Duke had to admit he was warming up to the verbal challenge Scott presented. Few people bothered to do so. The reputation he’d so carefully constructed often intimidated many from even trying. “What matters are the facts, and the fact of the matter is, your client has a history of breaking and entering, he left a fingerprint on the scene, and he more than adequately matches the physical type of the killer. Someone, somewhere, considered that enough to arrest him.”

“Someone, somewhere? Don’t be so coy. Saucedo thought it was enough to arrest him, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was acting on somebody’s orders.” Scott offered a new smile. This one clearly calculated to be more winning than the one before it. “That’s what I’m curious about. It’s enough to make an arrest, but it’s not really enough to build a case.”

“Yet.”

“Perhaps, but that begs the question of just what you’re going to build the case on.”

“The facts I’ve yet to find.”

“I wouldn’t hang my hopes on the undiscovered facts.” Scott tilted his head. “Where were you before? I’m a little bit surprised we haven’t crossed paths until now.”

Duke wasn’t. He loathed the public limelight as much as Scott seemed to thrive in it. “I’ve been in Homicide for eight years, been on the force for twelve. I spend most of my time in the field. Active cases, the occasional cold case. I also work with training exercises for cadets when I have the time.”

“That doesn’t explain why we haven’t crossed paths before. Unless this is your first headliner?”

“I don’t normally care for the high-profile cases. It’s harder to get to the truth when you’ve got reporters jockeying for position and twisting every word to his or her own needs.”

“Thank God we’re not beholden to the court of public opinion, then. They’re not so bad if you know how to deal with them.”

Duke toyed with his empty coffee cup, debating for a moment about getting a refill. “You’ve certainly had enough practice.”

He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “The camera loves me. But despite what I know people think of me, I don’t seek them out.”

“I know.” Ignoring Scott’s obvious surprise, Duke rose with his cup in hand. “I’m getting another coffee. Would you like one?”

He glanced at his watch without making a show of it and nodded. “I would. Thank you.”

Duke left him behind. He waited until after he’d ordered another bold drip to match his own before giving in to the impulse to look at the man again. The tinted glass made the specifics unclear, but it still merited a good enough inspection. Scott made no effort to look at the notepad Duke had deliberately left behind, concentrating instead on his own phone held lightly in his hand. His head was bent, his strong profile softened by the dark window, and his full mouth pursed in response to whatever he was reading.

Duke didn’t get this man. He had all the earmarks of a showboat, with only enough skill to keep on coasting through, and yet, there was an obvious intelligence lurking behind every word. An honor, too, since he hadn’t even dared to look at Duke’s notes. Why would he choose to represent a criminal who would likely be sentenced to death before his twenty-fifth birthday?

He carried the two drinks back outside and resumed his seat. “I left room for milk if you’d like some,” he said, setting Scott’s cup in front of him.

“Thanks.” He sipped from the cup, his face reflecting satisfaction at the brew. “I take it black. I was just looking over my schedule and wondering when you would like to interview Hector.”

“As soon as possible, though whenever is convenient for you. My schedule is likely a little more flexible than yours is.”

“Sometimes, I think if I could just get one more hour in the day, things wouldn’t be so bad.” His brow furrowed as he studied the phone’s screen. From the way he squinted at it, Duke wondered if maybe he didn’t need glasses. “I have a two hour block tomorrow night from eight-thirty to ten-thirty. Does that work?”

His brows shot up. “On a Sunday evening? Why are you conducting all Mr. Young’s business at such unusual hours?”

“Because I’m handling this case on my own time. Otherwise, I would just have Monica rearrange my schedule as necessary, but I can’t shuffle any of my other clients around right now. Besides, I’m not one to keep normal hours anyway. If I did that, I would never get anything done.”

“Did you know Mr. Young before he was arrested? Is that why you took his case?”

“No. I met him the same day I offered to represent him.”

“So why did you offer?”

“Honestly, detective? I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years, and right now, my instincts are telling me there’s something not quite kosher about the situation. It’s easy for the world to dismiss Hector Young. He’s got no known family in the area, his juvenile rap sheet is almost impressive, and a conviction on this case would reflect well not only on the department, but on the entire city.” Scott inclined his head. “Fair enough. But I’m paying attention to what happens to him.”

“So…you took this case, details unknown, client unseen, because your gut told you to?” At Scott’s grin, he shook his head. “That’s insane.”

“It wasn’t quite that bad. I did know the basic details of the case. But everything leading up to the arrest and after just seemed a little too convenient.”

If he hadn’t sounded so damn sincere about it, Duke would have suspected a personal angle of some sort. He knew very few lawyers in Scott’s circles who were quite that altruistic. But everything about Scott screamed sincerity.

As long as they were going by gut instincts, Duke was inclined to believe him. He just would have thought the man was smart enough not to tie himself to a sinking ship.

“The DA won’t be able to stall past Monday,” Duke said.

“No, but Hector won’t be in jail after that. I’ll get bail, and the DA won’t be able to do anything about it. He just doesn’t have the evidence he needs yet.”

The temptation was too great. The corner of Duke’s mouth lifted as he said, “Yet. You keep forgetting I haven’t had a chance to tackle this case yet.”

“I’ve no doubt that you’re an amazing detective, but even you can’t find something that’s not there.”

“Did he give you an alibi?”

Scott’s nostrils flared. “No. Not as such.”

He let the smile fully form for a flash of a second. “Then there’s something for me to find.”

Scott’s eyes danced. “It’s definitely going to be interesting. Either way. And you never told me if eight-thirty is good for you.”

“It’s good.” And as he sipped at his coffee, he silently agreed with Scott.

Interesting. Most definitely.