Tribal Court (David Brunelle Legal Thriller Series Book 2) Read online

  Chen laughed. "Just giving you a hard time. Although I would like to make this quick. I've got a million and one things on my desk."

  "I know the feeling," Brunelle commiserated as he reached the detective. "It'll be quick. There's just one thing I want to look at, but I definitely don't want to do it alone. Always have a witness when you look at evidence. Prosecutor 101."

  Chen nodded. "Understood. I'm just glad I didn't have to drive down to the tribal police station. I was afraid they would have moved the evidence down there too."

  Brunelle shook his head. "I don't think they even have an evidence room. They barely have a courtroom."

  Chen laughed again. "Great. Looking forward to testifying down there. If I can find it."

  Brunelle actually felt a little bad. He was starting to respect LeClair at least. "Okay, well, let's get this done. I just want to see the knife."

  Chen knocked on the window and an evidence officer promptly appeared.

  "Item number one on this case, please." Chen slid the young officer a copy of the first property sheet on the case and pointed to the case number.

  The officer gave a, "Be right back," and disappeared with Chen's paperwork.

  "So," Chen turned to Brunelle, "how's it going so far?"

  Brunelle rolled his eyes. "Great. My victim was a scumbag who deserved to die."

  "I told you that already," Chen reminded him.

  "Yes, you did. And now the judge is going to let the defense attorney tell the jury. So that'll be two of you."

  "Three," Chen corrected. "Don't forget Kat."

  "Not likely," Brunelle let slip. "So, yeah, three of you."

  Before Chen could press him on Kat, the officer returned. "Uh, detective? You wanted to see the knife, right?"

  "Right," Chen answered, concern tingeing the word.

  "Er, I'm afraid there's a problem."

  "A problem?" Brunelle inserted himself. His pulse quickened. "It's the fucking murder weapon. There better not be any problems."

  The evidence officer slid Chen's copy of the property sheets back to the detective, then pushed the property room's originals under the glass. He pointed to a stamp on the originals marked 'Evidence Viewing.' "We use this stamp whenever someone checks out evidence. It has blank lines to fill in the date and time, and also for the viewer to sign the item out of evidence and back in again. But there's only one signature here."

  The evidence officer looked up at them. "It looks like the knife got pulled for a viewing, but then never returned."

  Chen snatched up the paperwork as Brunelle's stomach flipped. "Who checked it out?" the detective demanded even as he scanned the page.

  The officer shook his head. "I don't recognize the name."

  Chen looked up from the sheets. "Who the hell is 'F. McCloud'?"

  Brunelle couldn't believe it. Or worse yet, he could.

  "Freddy."

  Chapter 17

  5:00. Freddy's 'office' in the Tribal Police H.Q.

  That's where they agreed to meet. It was a long drive from Seattle in afternoon traffic and Freddy had claimed 'stuff' to do, but Brunelle had insisted on the meeting. And on neutral—and safe—ground.

  Brunelle got there early and checked in with Sixrivers in his back corner office. He didn't tell him everything he had planned—there was a chance Freddy could explain it without law enforcement having to be called in—but Brunelle figured he should explain his presence in the precinct.

  "Just meeting with Freddy," he assured.

  Sixrivers slid aside whatever file he was looking at. "Can I give you some advice?"

  Brunelle shrugged. "Sure."

  "Go home."

  Brunelle was surprised. "Go home? What does that mean?"

  "It means," Sixrivers leaned back and crossed his arms, "you should go back to Seattle and forget all about this little case."

  "I would if I could," Brunelle admitted. "You think I want to be down here, in some unfamiliar court, before a judge I don't know, applying century-old law, against a defense attorney who wants to skin me alive? Believe me, I've tried, but my boss won't let me off the case. I'm stuck down here."

  Sixrivers nodded. "Too bad. But I understand. I've got superiors too. And I sympathize with you having to deal with us down here. I hate dealing with other agencies, but it's part of the job. I know most of the Tacoma P.D. guys, but Seattle? Forget about it. I tell them I'm with Duwallup Tribal P.D. and I might as well be saying 'mall cop.'"

  Brunelle winced at the truth of that statement. "Yeah, well, it's a small police department. I'm sure other small departments get the same reaction."

  Sixrivers stared at Brunelle for several seconds. "You really think that's true?"

  Brunelle sighed. "No, probably not. Hell, I didn't even know you had your own department until this case."

  Sixrivers nodded again. "Yeah, that's what I figured."

  Brunelle shrugged. "Sorry."

  The detective waved it away. "Don't be. I like our department. We're small, but we serve an important function. We're close to the community. They trust us. Even the criminals. We might be on opposite sides with the NGBs when it comes to drive-bys or burglaries or drug trafficking, but we're on the same side if there's a party and it just kind of gets out of hand. I'm a firm believer in pointing things out to people, then letting them take care of it themselves. If they can't, well, then we can step in to help, but we're still part of the community."

  Brunelle grinned. "But I'm not."

  Sixrivers offered a kind of smile. "Nope. You're not."

  "But I'm staying anyway."

  "Well, good," Sixrivers leaned back toward his desk and slid that file back in front of him. "You seem like a good attorney. You'll make sure Quilcene is held accountable for what he did."

  "I'll try," Brunelle said. Then he looked at his watch. "I better get going. Freddy will be here any minute."

  "Good to know," Sixrivers said, then turned his attention back to his work. "See you around, I'm sure."

  Brunelle walked through the cubicle and waited in Freddy's makeshift office. He remembered why he'd come down, and paced nervously, stewing and telling himself he must have it wrong.

  "Hey, Dave!" Freddy greeted his co-counsel affably as he strolled into the room. "Good to see you. So, what's so important that I have to miss the all-you-can-eat casino buffet?"

  Brunelle frowned. He'd seen Chen and the other detectives do this hundreds of times. There was an art to confronting a suspect, reading him, and drawing out the information without him being able to help himself. But Brunelle wasn't a cop. He was a prosecutor. A trial lawyer. He asked questions, people answered. The end.

  "Why'd you do it, Freddy?"

  Freddy cocked his head. The smile slipped a bit. "Do what?"

  "Do who?" Brunelle corrected. "Quilcene's cousin. Why did you have to go and kill him?"

  "What?!" Freddy threw his hands wide. "Me? Are you kidding? You have to be kidding."

  Brunelle shook his head slowly. "I'm not kidding, Freddy. I wish I were."

  "I didn't kill Quilcene's cousin, Dave." Freddy's voice raised in both pitch and volume. "How could you even think that? Why would you think that?"

  "It all adds up, Freddy." He met his partner's wide-eyed gaze. "You talk too much,."

  "Talk too much?" Freddy repeated. "What are you talking about?"

  Brunelle noticed Freddy's face was flushing and his breaths were coming quicker. The smile was completely gone.

  "In the casino," Brunelle started. "You told me blood feuds were a good thing. And I heard you refuse to give a statement to the cops. In your car talking to a friend, my ass. Then, in court—that argument of yours—about exactly how to carry out a blood feud in this case."

  "I was exaggerating," Freddy argued, "to prove a point."

  Brunelle shook his head. "Maybe the others thought that. LeClair, Talon, the gallery. But you got too close to the truth. You told me someone else from the tribe could take up the feud for Traver. Well
, you're in the tribe, Freddy. Then you stood up in front of God and everybody and said someone in Quilcene's family should be killed. Killed with the same knife."

  Freddy raised an enigmatic eyebrow. "Did I?"

  "Yes," Brunelle growled. "And Bobby Quilcene was murdered. With the same knife"

  Freddy raised an eyebrow. "Well, wasn't he dead already when I said that?"

  "Yes, he was," Brunelle confirmed. "And you stole the knife out of property the day before he was killed."

  "I didn't steal the knife!" Freddy insisted. "I just looked at it. Trial prep. I guess I forgot to tell you."

  "It's trial prep if you look at it," Brunelle countered. "Not if you check it out and don't return it."

  Freddy frowned but didn't say anything.

  "It was the same knife," Brunelle repeated. "The same knife killed Traver and Bobby Quilcene."

  Freddy crossed his arms. "Says who?"

  "Says our M.E.," Brunelle stretched the truth a bit. "Kat Anderson."

  "Kat Anderson?" Freddy's frown bounced back to his usual grin. "Oh, wow. We used to date. Say, 'Hi' for me."

  "Damn it, Freddy!" Brunelle slammed the table. "You checked the knife out of property, you fucking idiot. The day before the murder. You fucking signed for it. We know you did it."

  Freddy looked down and shook his head, the frown returning. "No, no, no. I didn't— Wait. Who's 'we'?"

  "The case detective and I," Brunelle answered. "We went to look at the knife today and the evidence guy showed us the check out sheet with your signature on it."

  Freddy shook his head again. "No, that's not right. I looked at it, but it was just a viewing. I just had the officer show it to me. She never even let go of the box it was strapped into. She just held up the box for me to see."

  Brunelle stared at him, unbelieving.

  "It's a really nice knife," Freddy went on. "The handle is ivory, I think. All carved and stuff."

  "Freddy," Brunelle tried to keep his voice level. "You need to turn yourself in. I know you're under a lot of stress. Talon told me how you don't have a regular law job and—"

  "What?!" Freddy shrieked. "You've talked to Talon about me? That bitch? Well, fuck her and her snooty law firm. I don't need them. And I don't need you or this case either. I thought it'd be great to work with you, Dave. Learn a few things. But you're just as big of an asshole as Talon, did you know that? So fuck you both. I quit."

  He turned and stormed out. Between the references to Kat and Talon, Brunelle almost forgot what they we're really talking about. "Freddy! Wait. It'll go easier for you if you turn yourself in."

  But Freddy didn't reply. Brunelle hurried through the cubicles, looking for an officer, any officer. He spied Sixrivers still sitting at his desk.

  "Detective!" Brunelle ran to his doorframe. "You're not going to believe this, but—"

  The sound of gunfire echoed through the precinct. Then squealing tires. Then nothing.

  The parking lot.

  Sixrivers jumped up from his desk and he and Brunelle ran out the front door, along with a half dozen other officers. The suspect vehicle was peeling out of the far end of the parking lot, way too far to get a license plate.

  Turning back, Brunelle saw the result of the gunfire. On the asphalt, atop a quickly growing slick of arterial blood, was Freddy. His eyes gazed up at the darkening clouds with that lifeless stare Brunelle knew only too well.

  Sixrivers knelt down to confirm what they both already knew.

  "He's dead."

  Chapter 18

  Brunelle sat in Sixrivers' cramped office in the corner of the precinct. He knew he wasn't under arrest, but he also knew he wasn't free to go. Sixrivers was overseeing the collection of the body, then he needed to speak with the last person to see Freddy alive: Brunelle.

  He knew he was a witness.

  He knew he might be a suspect.

  He knew he should lawyer up.

  It was the smart thing to do. But it wasn't right the thing to do. He hadn't known Freddy long, but he considered him a friend. And his friend had just been murdered.

  "Mr. Brunelle," Sixrivers finally stepped into his office. "Thank you for waiting so patiently."

  The detective sat down heavily in his desk chair. It had been almost three hours since the shots rang out. Probably about that long since Sixrivers was about to clock out for the day. He looked tired. It reminded Brunelle that he felt exhausted too. It had been a long, terrible, horrible day. The ass-kicking by Talon seemed like eons ago.

  Sixrivers opened his desk drawer and pulled out two things: a digital recorder and a Miranda advisement form. "Just a formality," he assured.

  "Sure." Brunelle forced a half-smile.

  Sixrivers filled out the top half of the form with the case information, Brunelle's name, date and time, etc. When he finished, he looked up like he'd just realized something.

  "Are you even going to talk?" he asked.

  Brunelle sighed deeply. "Yeah, I'm going to talk."

  Sixrivers paused for a moment, thoughts hidden behind his dark eyes, then he reached out and turned on the recorder. "Good."

  He pushed it between them. "This is Detective Thomas Sixrivers of the Duwallup Tribal Police Department. The time is now nineteen-fifty-two hours. This is the statement of David Brunelle. Mr. Brunelle, you have the right to remain silent…"

  Sixrivers read each of the rights on the form into the recorder, even though they both knew them by heart. When he'd finished, Brunelle signed the form and the interrogation could begin.

  Brunelle wondered whether Sixrivers might employ some of the same psychological techniques he'd seen Chen and other detectives use on suspects. Apparently not.

  "Okay, Mr. Brunelle. Why don't you just tell me everything you know?"

  So Brunelle explained it all. The initial murder of George Traver. The reasons Quilcene did it. The defense Talon put forward. Freddy checking the knife out of property. The murder of Quilcene's cousin. Freddy's argument in court. His comments at the casino. Brunelle confronting him. And ending with the gunfire that took Freddy's life. When he finished, Sixrivers just stared at him, chiseled chin on thick fist.

  "Are you fucking kidding me?" he finally asked.

  Brunelle was taken aback. He could feel his face flushing. "No, I'm dead serious. That's exactly what happened."

  Sixrivers pursed his lips into a disapproving frown. "The witnesses in the parking lot make it sound like a drive-by of the police station by the NGBs. They observed multiple males in the car, flashing gang signs as they drove away. McCloud just stepped outside at the exact wrong time."

  Brunelle shook his head. "No, I'm telling you. Traver molested Quilcene's niece. Quilcene killed Traver. Freddy killed Quilcene's cousin. Now Quilcene's gang has murdered Freddy. Hell, Quilcene's out on home detention. He probably was the shooter."

  Sixrivers leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  "I know it sounds crazy," Brunelle admitted, "but Freddy practically confessed to it in open court this morning. And if I could figure it out, Quilcene sure as hell could have."

  Sixrivers tapped his chin for several seconds. Then he leaned forward and turned off the recorder.

  "I think we're done," he announced.

  Brunelle looked Sixrivers in the eye. "You're not going to follow up on this, are you?"

  The detective met his gaze, then stood up. "I said we're done. You can go now, Mr. Brunelle."

  Brunelle stood up too. "I'm telling you—"

  "Goodbye, Mr. Brunelle," Sixrivers interrupted. "You really don't belong here. Maybe you should go back up to Seattle and let someone else worry about Quilcene."

  Brunelle was about to argue, then he remembered that's all he'd wanted since Duncan had first explained the arrangement to him. Maybe he could finally get his wish.

  Chapter 19

  "No."

  Duncan was firm. The morning sun shone across his desk, giving him an aura of divine righteousness as he denied Brunelle's plea to
get off the case.

  "I'm sorry, Dave, but no way. This is your case. You know how big a deal this is. Everybody will be watching this trial. I can't give it to just anyone, especially not at this late juncture. I'm counting on you."

  Brunelle threw his hands up at the 'I'm counting on you' card. "Come on, Matt. This thing has spun totally out of control. I'm a witness to two murders, for Christ's sake."

  "Eh, not really," Duncan replied. "You didn't actually see the murders. You just came up afterward."

  "Immediately afterward," Brunelle argued.

  "Just a difference in timing," Duncan countered. "You came up on the first murder too, just a lot later."

  "I came up on Traver's murder because Chen called me at one in the fucking morning. These two happened while I was right there. I heard the gunshots."

  Duncan paused. "I thought Quilcene's cousin was stabbed."

  Brunelle pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not really the point. I heard Quilcene's cousin scream. I watched Freddy's killer speed away."

  "Good," Duncan assured evenly. "I'm sure you'll be a great witness for the Pierce County Prosecutor's Office, if they ever catch who did it. But right now, I need you to be a great prosecutor for the King County Prosecutor's Office."

  Brunelle looked down and ran his hands through his hair, but wasn't sure what to say.

  "Just stay focused," Duncan advised. "Those other murders are just like the other cases in your file cabinet. Unrelated homicides. Focus on what's in front of you."

  Brunelle looked up. "But what if they're not unrelated?"

  Duncan's face screwed up into a frown. "What do you mean? A gang member with a hundred enemies, and a lawyer in the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course they're unrelated."

  Brunelle frowned. "I don't know, Matt. Traver had no family. Freddy said the blood feud could continue if someone else took up the cause. What if Freddy really did take it up? What if he really did stab Quilcene's cousin? That would explain why he was killed."

  Duncan returned Brunelle's frown. "I don't buy it, Dave. But so what? By the time the cops unravel it, you'll be done with the Quilcene trial."