Dead to Rights Jack Patterson (ebook voice reader TXT) 📖

remember hearing his name until we got here, so I don’t think he was ever called.”

“That’s curious.”

Cal took a deep breath. “Yeah. Why didn’t they call him?”

“Maybe he wasn’t necessary. Not everybody on the witness list gets called. He could’ve been more of a liability at the end of the trial if the prosecution felt like they had it. And they could always call him again if they appealed the ruling.”

“Good point. But it still seems odd to me. To peg Drake with a first degree murder charge, they needed to prove his guilt several times over without any doubt.”

Kelly nodded. “Like I said, maybe they already proved that during the trial and felt like his testimony wasn’t necessary.”

“You could be right, but I think this is a question we need to pitch to Hal Golden, Esquire, not to mention a dozen other burning questions I have for him.”

“Hal Golden—was that the prosecutor in the case?”

“That’s the one.”

“And how exactly are we going to do that? He doesn’t live around here, does he?”

Cal shook his head and smiled. “How do you feel about a road trip to historic Savannah?”

CHAPTER 11

AFTER A COUPLE MORE HOURS of research, Cal and Kelly drove two hours northeast to Savannah for their scheduled meeting with Hal Golden. During Cal’s initial research on Drake’s case, he’d contacted Golden to see if he would be open to talking about the trial. Golden, who’d since transitioned from his position as a state prosecutor to a partner with Williams & Anderson law firm, readily agreed to answer a few more questions over dinner.

Five minutes before 6:00 p.m., Cal parked and headed toward the restaurant with Kelly. An iconic fine dining establishment, Elizabeth on 37th embraced the city’s historic past, much like the rest of Savannah. Golden recommended they meet at the popular restaurant, which was housed inside an early-1900s mansion that had been restored. He told Cal that it was pricey and would break The Seattle Times’ meager travel budget, but that he’d love to treat them.

After his initial phone conversation with Golden, Cal tried to resist forming any preconceived ideas about the former prosecutor and fought the urge to tell Kelly about his dinner offer. Cal wanted to determine from their conversation if Golden was serious about justice and believed Drake was guilty—or if it was just an easy victory in a big case that could propel him on to other things. Such determinations couldn’t be made by simply looking at a person’s resume and timeline of employment or a short conversation over the phone, Cal had long since concluded.

“Swanky,” Kelly said as she walked toward the restaurant, taking a moment to run her hand down the smooth Tuscan column flanking both sides of the steps. “This is going to blow our dining allowance for today, isn’t it?”

Cal shook his head. “Golden’s treating us tonight.”

“Already trying to buy us off, is he?”

With his hand on the doorknob, Cal stopped and turned to Kelly. “Keep an open mind, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “You and your open mind.”

“Be nice. Put away your pit bull—at least until we get a few questions answered.”

“Don’t be worried, honey. I promise not to say anything to rile him up.”

A hostess led them to a table in one of the back rooms where Golden was already waiting. He stood up as they approached and offered his hand to both of them.

“Please,” Cal said. “No need to get up. Good to meet you, Hal.”

“This is Savannah, Mr. Murphy. We always stand up when there’s a lady in our presence, especially a beautiful one like your wife here.”

Kelly forced a smile. “Such flattery—a common trait among slippery lawyers.”

Cal cleared his throat to get Kelly’s attention. She quickly sat down as a brief moment of awkward silence fell on the trio.

“So, you wanted to talk about the Isaiah Drake case?” Golden finally asked.

“Yes, I’m working on a story about Drake, chronicling the case as well as his time in prison for my paper in Seattle. He was incredibly popular among Seahawks fans, and with his appeals running out, my editor thought it would make a compelling read to recount what happened to him, from the murder to the trial to the prison time.”

“I can only tell you about the trial. I’ve always been into sailing and never had the time to follow football,” Golden said while fidgeting with the band on his Rolex.

“You live in the Deep South and don’t follow football?” Kelly asked before dropping into her fake southern accent. “Well, I never.”

Golden furrowed his brow. “Not everyone sees the draw in such a barbaric sport. In fact, my ignorance of the sport was why I was chosen to handle Drake’s case. Too many football fans might have been sympathetic toward him due to his popularity in the south. I confessed that I’d never heard of him and that’s how I ended up drawing the assignment.”

“No lawyer from the judicial district office where Susannah Sloan worked wanted to take the case?” Cal asked.

“Oh, several wanted to, but the DA for the state thought it would be best to let a prosecutor from the Savannah district take the case. Too many emotional people as Susannah was supposedly beloved by all who knew her. So, that’s how the case wound up on my desk.”

“As I’ve been sifting through the case, it seems like there were other possible suspects that went ignored during the investigation. Did you question Sheriff Sloan?”

“Remember, Mr. Murphy, I’m a prosecutor, not an investigator. I take what I’ve been given, and if it looks like a case we can win, we go with it. This case obviously had plenty of special attention publicly, so I was careful about proceeding.”

“So, for instance, if the investigator buried evidence or never brought it up, you’d have no way of considering it when it came to determining whether or not you’d prosecute the suspect?”

Golden nodded. They paused their conversation to place their orders before