Public Trust by A. W. Gray

Author:A. W. Gray
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2015-05-21T20:06:59+00:00

20

Edward Teeter had a round face and pointed nose, an overhanging belly and pipe-stem legs. His office was on the eleventh floor of the Crowley Building, across and down the hall from Kathleen Fraterno’s. He touched his fingertips together and said to Sharon Hays and Russell Black, “I can’t get mixed up in the Dycus Wilt case, or the Raymond Burnside case. Those belong to Fraterno and Breyer. Besides, Wilt’s dead. Why would anybody want to stir his bones up to begin with?”

“It’s your duty to stir ’em up,” Black said. “You’re a chief felony prosecutor.”

Teeter seemed to think that one over. He’d won his promotion to chief felony by turning up a snitch in the murder of a lawyer named Howard Saw. The snitch had been a cretin murderer, Bradford Brie, who’d subsequently been released to the street because of Edward Teeter’s foul-up. During his brief period of freedom, Brie had very nearly killed Sharon Hays. She could have easily stopped Teeter’s promotion had she reported the incident, but she hadn’t. The bottom line was that Teeter owed her big-time. Tit for tat, a way of life in the justice system.

“That I am,” Teeter finally said. “But Milton Breyer’s also a chief felony prosecutor, with a lot more tenure and stroke, and Fraterno’s his number one … whatever. No way can I butt in on their case.”

“You’re not butting in on anybody’s case, Mr. Teeter,” Sharon said. “You’d be working on a completely different murder. Sheriff’s Deputy Nolan Blaine.”

Teeter reached behind him and shuffled some papers on his credenza. “That’s the sheriff’s department’s case. If I begin snooping around on something they’re digging into, now I’m butting in on their deal.”

“They’re not diggin’ into it,” Black said. “They’re buryin’ the damned thing.”

Teeter spread his hands, palms up. “What’s to bury? The Dycus Wilt guy shoots the deputy on the way to the holding cell. Cut and dried.”

Sharon straightened in her chair, in a posture of urgency. “What’s to bury is how Dycus Wilt got his handcuff key. Someone slipped it to him on the way out of the jail.”

Teeter picked up an envelope, moistened the gummed edge with a roller, sealed and tossed the envelope into his out-basket. “What key? I’ve heard nothing about it.”

“The key I’ve got locked up in safekeeping,” Sharon said, “which I swiped off of Dycus Wilt’s body, downstairs in the lobby.”

Teeter scowled. “That’d be serious tampering, Miss Hays.”

Sharon smirked. “It sure would. And Andy Wade has a photo of the key, sheriff’s imprint and all, in his hospital room. That’s probably tampering as well.”

Teeter put his hands on his armrests. “Andy Wade? The newspaper guy?”

“None other. He’s awfully upset, Mr. Teeter. Seems being kicked around and having two broken ribs doesn’t make him particularly comfortable.” Sharon reached down beside her chair, pulled out and unfolded a morning paper. She turned the Metro page around so that Teeter could see the headline, “deputy’s killer had outside help in escape attempt,” over Andy Wade’s byline. “You mean you haven’t read this?” Sharon said.

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