Page 62 of Necessary Evil

“Not good. Pizarro turned up dead today in the trunk of Hailey’s car. The coroner put his murder at three days ago—same day as Hailey, probably right after he made that phone call. Bradford claims he’s been here on the East Coast the whole time. We can’t find a plane ticket to California in his name.”

“He could have driven,” Sentinel said.

Ryder made a disbelieving noise. “He murdered them on Saturday on the West Coast. And he’s here on Tuesday on the East Coast? It’s a straight forty-eight-hour drive one way. If he drove, he had an accomplice and a lead foot.”

The Judge continued, “Bradford lawyered up, and we had to let him go because we couldn’t charge him with anything. He’s got an alibi for the weekend. His new girlfriend confirms he was with her from Friday night until Sunday.”

“There’s your accomplice,” Sentinel said.

“She’s clean. No arrests. Not even a parking ticket. And she was at work on Monday morning at eight a.m., so she couldn’t have been driving back from California.”

“Bradford still could have had someone else help him with the driving. What time were the victims killed on Saturday night?”

“Hailey was killed around ten p.m., and the coroner estimates Pizzaro was killed a few hours later. He was beaten to death. We no longer have a witness and our case is falling apart. Not only is Bradford getting away with two murders, but he’s sitting on a shit-ton of OxyContin.”

“Issue a search warrant. You’re the judge,” Evil said.

The Judge laughed without humor. “Need more evidence. We’re still working on his alibi. He has his credit card receipts from Roosevelt Field Mall this weekend, and we’re trying to get camera verification that someone else was using his card. We’re also looking into how he got to California and back. It definitely wasn’t air or train. If we can find the car he took, we can check it against the toll cameras. But the case doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere anytime soon. The lawyer is stonewalling us and playing serious hardball.”

“It ain’t Attorney Meyers, is it?” Warden asked.

“You just want to go over there and see Minx again,” Ryder said.

“No. Hands off the attorney. I want this piece of shit, Bradford, in the ground before he beats another person to death.”

“How do Bradford’s knuckles look?” Sentinel asked, staring at his own scabbed fingers.

“Fine. Hailey’s murder weapon was her baseball bat, and Pizzaro’s tire iron did him in. Both were left at the scene. No prints were on them but the victims’.”

“So much for that idea,” Sentinel said.

“How sure are you that Pizzaro was telling the truth?” Evil asked. If Pizarro hadn’t been a snitch, the cops might have gone with the easy answer: Pizzaro killed Hailey over the Oxy and then got caught by the gang, who murdered him in retaliation. That played and made sense. Nothing would have tied Bradford to those murders, especially if it was known he was on the East Coast. The wrench in Bradford’s plans was Pizzaro dropping a dime on him and putting him at the scene.

“The Palo Alto cop said he was one hundred percent sure. Pizzaro ran with Bradford on a few low-level jobs. Pizarro’s credit card shows he bought a beer around eleven p.m. and the bartender remembers he was with another guy, but couldn’t positively identify Bradford.”

“No camera?” Warden asked.

“Not in that place. Pizarro went to the men’s room and called his cop. But by the time the police got to the bar, both of them had vanished.”

“Back to Long Island. What were the credit card receipts for?” Ryder leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.

“High-end lingerie, bubble bath, candles, and a crapload of tea.”

“No restaurant charges?” she asked.

“No.”

“Hmmm. If they were together for a big shopping day, they would have stopped for lunch together. I think the girlfriend had his card and went on a spending spree to cover his tracks.”

“We’ve questioned her and she said the purchases were for her but that he was with her the whole time.”

“Damn it.” Ryder pounded the desk. “She’s covering for him.”

“I can’t prove it and I’m getting nowhere with the security tapes.”

“Sweat her.”

“We’re working on it, but there are complications. She lawyered up too.”

Evil could see where this was going. The lawyers were going to bury them in paperwork, and in the end Bradford would get off scot-free. “I’ll take the job,” he said. “He killed a snitch and his old lady. He’s a walking dead man as far as I’m concerned.”

“Here’s the motel he’s staying at. Make it look like a gang hit and they’ll blame the cousins or local friends of the cousins.”

“I hear the Pyros have it out for him,” Warden said.

Evil smirked. “I’ll tell you when it’s done.”

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