Contempt by Michael Cordell

Author:Michael Cordell [Cordell, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: TCK Publishing
Published: 2020-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

TWENTY

Hours after the last witness stepped down from the stand, Gideon lumbered into a run-down Korean grocery store right before closing time. He had spent the last hour canvassing the stores that faced the park where Skunk claimed to have sat for hours the night of the murder. The neighborhood saw more than its share of violence on a regular basis, and store owners took note when Gideon walked through their door: he didn’t just look like someone with a potential for violence; he looked like a man who carried it with him wherever he went.

After the trial’s first day had wrapped, everyone working for the defense knew they had to come up with something to clear Skunk, which was why Gideon was stomping from store to store, having so far been met with indifference at best. But he was willing to see it through, because given Thane’s disastrous performance in the courtroom, Gideon knew it would take a hell of a lot of luck to get someone like Skunk kicked free. It’s not as though he felt some sort of obligation to help out Skunk––caring what happened to other people wasn’t exactly his strong suit––he just didn’t enjoy feeling like Thane’s charity case.

This store was the ninth he had visited. He walked toward the front counter of the five-aisle grocery store where Mr. Song, the Korean storeowner who looked old enough to have nine or ten grandkids, was bent over slightly, feeling for something on the lower shelf.

Gideon shook his head. “You don’t need your gun,” he said. “I just want to ask you something.”

Gideon held up a picture of Skunk, but it took a moment before Song was willing to take his coke-bottle glasses off the intimidating visitor to look at the photo. When he finally did, it wasn’t long before he snapped his attention back to Gideon.

“Don’t know him,” Song said.

“Well, at least pretend to look carefully. Lookit, I’m not here to rob you. Just look at the damn picture.”

Song huffed but did not reply.

“I’m trying to help somebody,” Gideon said. “He says he was across the street in the park the night that detective got murdered. I just want to know if you remember seeing him. I know people around here don’t like to get involved in nothing, but I’m trying to find someone who believes in doing the right thing. Don’t need to say it was that night, ‘cause it was a while ago, but does he look familiar?”

Song grudgingly took the picture from Gideon and studied it some more, scrunching his nose up as he handed it back.

“He stopped in my store one time, tried to steal a bottle of beer. Not just little bottle; one of a thirty-two ouncers. Told him get the hell out of my store. He then go sit in the park rest of night.”

Gideon’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure? When was that?”

“You said I didn’t need to say what night,” Song complained, but Gideon glared at him. “I don’t remember.

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