The Love That Kills (Nate Rosen Mystery Book 1) by Ron Levitsky

Author:Ron Levitsky [Levitsky, Ron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-05-23T22:00:00+00:00

THE SECOND WEEK

Chapter Eleven – WEDNESDAY MORNING

Judge Spencer asked the bailiff to refill his pitcher of ice water. It was the second time that morning the judge had kept the courtroom waiting, and while doing so he ran a comb through his thinning hair. He was a man known to be as committed to the law as he was to his own appearance, and these proceedings gave him special concern. It was the first time anyone, even old Francis the bailiff, could remember a packed room for a preliminary hearing.

Wilkes looked back from his seat at the prosecution’s table and was surprised by all the unfamiliar faces. There were at least a dozen reporters; three in the front row, just behind him, were sketching courtroom scenes. Wilkes saw his likeness in several of the drawings and wondered how his wife and daughters would react seeing it on TV. He almost smiled, until noticing Nguyen Thi Trac sitting in the back, the only Vietnamese in the room. Their eyes met momentarily, and his face grew warm. Looking away he saw his boss, Edgar Simpson, back from vacation, who grinned and made a jab with his fist the same way a manager encourages his boxer before the final k.o. Wilkes remembered his father and Simpson talking about Joe Louis. “That nigger knew what to do—a man can’t hurt you if he’s on his ass.”

That’s where Basehart was, on his ass, and there wasn’t much Rosen or Collinsby could do for their client. Wilkes had seen to that, but then a five year old could have done as well. He had merely placed the evidence before the jury, beginning with the murder weapon found near the victim’s apartment—Basehart’s gun with his fingerprint on it. That in itself was enough to bind over the accused for trial. The rest was frosting, including witnesses who heard Basehart on various occasions threatening Vietnamese store owners and Exhibits D through G, an assortment of hate pamphlets written by Basehart against the “Slants,” each one more virulent than the other. Finally, there sat Billy Lee Pelham in the witness box waiting patiently, like everyone else, for Judge Spencer to get his second pitcher of ice water so that the hearing could proceed.

After taking a long drink and patting his lips with a handkerchief, the judge tapped his gavel and drawled soft as a melon, “Gentlemen, let’s proceed. Since Mr. Pelham has already been sworn in, you may begin your questioning, Mr. Wilkes.”

Hearing the scratching of the sketch artists grow more frenetic, Wilkes approached the witness.

Pelham had groomed himself for the occasion, greasing back his hair so that it curled behind his ears. He wore an old brown suit short at the sleeves and ankles, a string tie neatly poking out his adam’s apple, and a grin he must have saved only for his biggest fishing stories.

“Mr. Pelham,” Wilkes began, “you’re presently living at the bait and tackle shop operated by the defendant, is that not so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you are a member of the organization Mr.

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