A Perfect Grave Part 23

"John," Grace's voice was almost soothing, "was it a s.e.xual thing, or an argument? Did you follow her to the town house to talk to her? Maybe something was troubling you and she said something that triggered all the bad things that happened to you? John, it'll help you to tell us now. So you can get help, John."

"You owe it to your buddies," Perelli said, "to their memory, to do the honorable thing, here."

Cooper shot Perelli a look. Grace sensed something was seething just under Cooper's skin.

"John, look at me," she said. "Just tell us what happened."

Cooper went back to the pictures. It seemed as if a monumental sadness washed over him. Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head.

"I loved her."

Grace nodded encouragement.

"I would never hurt her."

"We know, John," Grace said. "Was it an accident?"

"I don't know. I mean," he swallowed, "sometimes, I black out."

Grace exchanged a quick glance with Perelli.

"We know. It's in your records," Grace said.

"I didn't hurt her. I couldn't hurt her. I don't think I hurt her. I don't think I hurt her."

Cooper thrust his face into his weathered hands and released a deafening cry of anguish.

"I want a lawyer."

Chapter Thirty-Two.

Cooper's call for a lawyer took it all to the next level.

Grace alerted Lynn Mann at the King County Prosecuting Attorney's office. Lynn called the Office of the Public Defender on the fourth floor of the Walthew Building.

The OPD scrolled through its network of public defense agencies contracted to provide legal services. Most had conflicts, so the staff sped through the list of a.s.signed attorneys. Next up for a felony: Barbara North, a criminal defense lawyer with Acheson, Kw.a.n.g, and Myer.

The call caught her on her cell, driving from court to her son's soccer game.

"The nun murder?" Barbara repeated into her phone while at a red light. It had started raining and she switched on her wipers. "Sorry, I didn't get that? He's an indigent street person? Lives under I-5. You mean the guy in today's paper?" She scrawled notes, willing the light to stay red. "Sure. I'll take it but I have to make a few calls. Tell Lynn I'll meet her and Detective Garner at Homicide just as soon as I can get there."

The rain would cancel soccer.

Barbara called her older sister, Mary, and asked her to pick up her son. He wouldn't complain about hanging out at his aunt Mary's. She was a better cook.

"Could be a sleepover, Mary."

"Catch a big case?"

"The biggest."

As Barbara drove, she probed her briefcase for today's Mirror. Mirror. It took four red lights to absorb every detail on the Cooper story. She was a quick-thinking Harvard grad whose pa.s.sion for law had not waned, despite the disillusioning realities of everyday jurisprudence. She'd handled a number of homicide cases, domestics, drug murders, but never one that had played out on the front pages. It took four red lights to absorb every detail on the Cooper story. She was a quick-thinking Harvard grad whose pa.s.sion for law had not waned, despite the disillusioning realities of everyday jurisprudence. She'd handled a number of homicide cases, domestics, drug murders, but never one that had played out on the front pages.

Within forty-five minutes, Barbara found herself in a secured room, contending with the smells of fried chicken, potatoes, Italian salad dressing, and Cooper. As he ate behind the bars of a holding cell, she worked at the small table asking him questions, writing notes on a yellow legal pad, consulting copies of files, reports, and statements she'd requested from Lynn and the Seattle PD.

"So, do you think they're going to charge me with something?"

"We'll know soon enough. Just try to take it easy."

Barbara left the room to meet with the detectives, their sergeant, and Lynn Mann, a deputy prosecuting attorney. Lynn was a veteran of DOP, King County's homicide response team. Lynn was beautiful. She also had fifteen years' more experience than Barbara.

"Here it is," Lynn said. "Your client has a troubled history, with a few violent incidents. He has been known to argue with the victim in front of witnesses at the shelter. Your client had access to the murder weapon, a knife from the shelter. Your client is in possession of shoes consistent with impressions found in the victim's blood and at the location where the weapon was recovered."

"But you haven't charged him," Barbara said. "You don't have a time line and anyone putting him at the scene."

"We've got a compelling case going," Perelli said.

"What you have is reaction to public pressure." Barbara tapped her pad with the point of her pen.

"He's had access to the knife and he's grappling with psychological anguish," Grace said.

"Which is the case with about half of the hundreds of regulars who go to that shelter. Your case is so circ.u.mstantial as to be nonexistent."

"At his encampment," Boulder said, "we found other knives consistent with knives belonging to sets at the shelter."

"Circ.u.mstantial," Barbara said reaching for the Mirror. Mirror. "Look, Mr. Cooper's indicated that he witnessed a stranger at the shelter arguing with the victim and stealing a knife. Did you even pursue this avenue of investigation?" "Look, Mr. Cooper's indicated that he witnessed a stranger at the shelter arguing with the victim and stealing a knife. Did you even pursue this avenue of investigation?"

"Isn't it funny," Perelli said, "how people with such critical information go to the press first, to put it out there, before coming to us? That's what guilty people do."

"Detective, my client pushes a shopping cart through the streets of this city and lives under a freeway."

"That doesn't make him stupid and it doesn't rule him out," Perelli said.

"Dom," Grace said, "Barbara, we have pursued that avenue and have already eliminated a number of potential suspects."

"The shoes are d.a.m.ning," Lynn said.

"The shoes are state-issued only by DOC. As I understand, my client has no criminal record. He's never been arrested. He's never served time. And you are all well aware that all state-issued clothing is marked with an offender's DOC number. I believe with shoes, it's inside the instep of the right shoe."

"That mark has been removed, carved out," Perelli said.

"My point exactly. My client states the shoes were dropped off near where he stays, which means anyone could have had access to them. The fact that you didn't need a warrant to seize establishes that his 'residence' is actually public property." Barbara reached for the file on the shoes. "Did you contact DOC and see if shoes this size have been reported missing? You know all state-issued clothing must be turned in before offenders are released?"

"We have," Perelli said. "They're checking. Still, doesn't mean Cooper didn't pick them up somewhere."

"Exactly. Virtually all of Cooper's possessions have been previously owned by other people. Again, the man lives on the street, on public property. So how can you tie these shoes to him, beyond all reasonable doubt? How can you connect him to this crime in any way?"

Grace took stock of the others.

"There are ways. And we can get started on them if your client will cooperate."

Barbara experienced a twinge of unease.

"What ways?"

Chapter Thirty-Three.

"Showtime."

Kay Cataldo put down the phone and turned to Chuck DePew.

The two forensic scientists had been waiting and watching local news on a TV in an empty meeting room down the hall from the Homicide Unit. Garner had summoned them and now it was time for them to do their thing.

"They're bringing him to us now," Cataldo said.

She and DePew went to work in the room, making preparations, moving chairs to create a large comfortable s.p.a.ce. Within minutes the chime of cuffs, shackles, and a belly chain preceded Cooper's arrival.

"Mr. Cooper," Cataldo said as Barbara North, Garner, Perelli, and the others took places around the room, "I'd like you to sit in this chair and be comfortable."

Clasping his hands together to ease the pressure of the handcuffs, Cooper took stock of the room, the people, and the chair while Cataldo and DePew tugged on latex gloves.

"Please sit down, sir. This won't take long."

Cooper looked at Barbara, who nodded to him before he sat.

Cataldo and DePew began unlacing his boots.

"Sir, are these boots the footwear you wear most often?" Cataldo asked.

Cooper nodded.

"Now, on the table, you see several sets of footwear taken from your location under the overpa.s.s." Cooper scanned them, observing the evidence tags. "Can you please tell us what sets among them you have worn most, or still wear?"

Cooper extended his chin to a pair of worn boots and DePew placed his hand on them to confirm the correct ones. Cooper nodded, DePew made notes, put the boots in a paper bag, then did the same with the boots they'd removed from his feet.

Cataldo then removed two pairs of woollen socks. Cooper's bare feet were in good shape. He bathed every other day at the Mission, near Pike Place.

DePew then reached for a box that was the size and shape of a take-out pizza box cut in half. He opened the lid. It was filled with blue impression-casting foam.

"Now," Cataldo said, "I'm going to take your right foot and guide its descent into the foam. I want you to press as much as I tell you, so we can get a clear cast."

Cooper cooperated.

Cataldo repeated the process with Cooper's left foot.

DePew then closed the boxes, recorded information, and helped Cataldo collect the boots they'd taken from Cooper and the second pair he'd indicated he'd worn.

"Sir, which other shoes would you like us to replace on your feet?"

Cooper nodded to another set of worn boots and Cataldo helped him slip them on after replacing his socks. Then she prepared to leave with DePew.

"So what's next? How does this work?" Barbara North asked.

"Like fingerprints, footprints are unique," Cataldo said.

"Okay...," Barbara said.

"It's pretty much accepted that no two people have the same, identical foot shape, or the same weight-pressure patterns. The differences are reflected on the wear of the insole and the tread and wear patterns of the outsole."

"So what are you going to do?"

"We're going back to the lab to a.n.a.lyze these casts. We'll compare them with the boots Mr. Cooper wears, and we'll compare them with our a.n.a.lysis of the DOC tennis shoes that are consistent with the impressions at the crime scene."

"This technique is widely known in forensics," DePew said. "It's called barefoot morphology. The Royal Canadian Mounted Police developed it."

"That's fine. However, my client has said that he'd recently discovered that the tennis shoes had been placed in his shopping cart. They're not his and he's never worn them," Barbara said.

"Then the evidence should support him," Cataldo said.

As Garner thanked Cataldo and DePew, Barbara looked at Cooper for a long, uncertain moment. This was not going to get any easier for him.

Chapter Thirty-Four.

On Barbara North's advice, Cooper had agreed to take a lie-detector test.

It would be conducted by Seattle Detective Jim Yamas.h.i.ta, who entered the room carrying his polygraph equipment in a hardsh.e.l.l case.

Soft-spoken and bespectacled, Yamas.h.i.ta was a reserved, slightly built man, who could be taken for an accountant rather than one of the country's top polygraphists.

His hobby was cryptography.