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“It was shut down before the murder and has been all this time,” Jack pointed out. “So maybe no one—at least not efficiently anyway—has been keeping the place cleaned up.”
She supposed he was right about that, but the place had looked pretty damned clean to her—the signs of demo aside. “I’m thinking that even if there’s a DNA match, proving the butts connect to the handbag beyond a shadow of a doubt would be basically impossible. With that in mind, I believe if we really want to put this to rest, we have Ray’s DNA done at our favorite private lab, then we have our lab compare the results. If it’s not a match, we can negotiate terms with Houser to ensure the results are not run through the system.”
The idea was a bit of a stretch, but she was reasonably sure she could pull it off with Houser. The end result would tell them if Metro had any other real evidence in this case against their client. Certainly, without the DNA match he would have to fork over whatever else they were keeping on the down-low for now—assuming that was the case.
Not to mention she would be a lot happier about representing Johnson if she knew he was innocent, although the cigarette butts alone were not going to prove that one way or the other, in her opinion. Particularly in light of what she’d learned from the ex about Lucy babysitting in their home. The woman wasn’t stupid. She hadaccidentallyshared that information with Finley for a reason. And then she’d let Johnson know she’d done it. A bid for a boost in child support or alimony, Finley suspected. On the other hand, when you got right down to it, with the old man dying and Ian long out of the picture, Ray Johnson was the only person standing in the way of Stratton’s children inheriting the business and the money. She could want her ex out of the way.
Sounded like motive to Finley.
“I’ll talk to him,” Jack said. “If he agrees, I’ll get it done ASAP.”
“If the DNA doesn’t match, then Ray’s off the hook with Metro for now.”
She had a feeling he and his father were both guilty of many things. But judging the two was not her job.
“Anything else?” Jack asked, drawing her back to the conversation.
Finley glanced at Houser and considered that she was already running late, but she had to know. There was a very good chance this investigation was going to get ugly. “Just one thing, for my own peace of mind. I need to know what kind of favor Johnson did for you, Jack.”
The silence that followed set her further on edge. The truth was, maybe it didn’t matter, but Finley had a feeling it might. Either way, she needed to know.
“Twenty years ago,” he said wearily, “I made a mistake. I took on a client—a woman—and I stupidly got personally involved. Turned out her old man wasn’t as ready for the divorce as she had thought. He came after me. Blew up my car. Hell, it’s a miracle no one was injured. When I found out he worked for Raymond Johnson, I went to him and asked for his help. He told the guy if he wanted to keep his job, he should back off. If I had my guess, he likely suggested if the guy wanted to keep breathing as well. Either way, the old man probably saved my life.”
“Jesus Christ, Jack,” she muttered. “We’re representing this piece of shit because you couldn’t keep your—”
“Hey, hey,” he interrupted. “We all make mistakes. I may have made more than my share during certain periods of my life, but I did my best.”
The point was one she couldn’t argue.
“You need to find someone, Jack, and make it real.” She said this knowing that the only woman he had ever really loved was her mother. But her mother was taken. “You deserve someone who makes you happy.”
He grunted. “Have a nice evening, kid. I’ll go see Ray and the old man in the morning.”
“Don’t push him about the car wash,” she said on second thought. “Just get him to go along with the test, and let me know what he says. We can hit him with the car wash once we get the DNA hurdle behind us.”
Finley ended the call and strode over to where Houser waited.
“I may be able to work this DNA thing out,” she announced, “if our conditions are acceptable.”
His expression shifted to one of cautious optimism. “What, pray tell, are your conditions?”
“If Johnson agrees to the test, we’ll have it done at a private lab of our choosing. You provide your results, and our lab will make the comparison. If there’s no match, you let it go.”
“And if he is our guy?”
Finley smiled. “He won’t be.” The smile eased into a frown as she considered how to approach the next issue. “When Ray Johnson’s wife at the time was interviewed, she insisted she’d never met Lucy or even heard of her.” Finley had read this in the case file Houser had sent.
He nodded. “That’s right.”
Finley held his gaze for a moment before continuing. “Talk to her again. Tell her you know she lied, and offer her a deal.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me something, Finley?”
“All I’m saying is that she isn’t his wife anymore. If you think about it, she has way more reason for wanting to tell the whole truth now than she did thirteen years ago.” Finley waved goodbye and walked quickly to her Subaru.
One thing she had learned since graduating from law school was that when something was overly obvious, it was rarely what it appeared to be.
The flimsy evidence Metro had against their client was over-the-top obvious.
