Ties That Bind

Chapter 19

MADISON HUNG UP FROM RANSON AND SPOKE TO TERRY. "You're not going to believe who Layton's lawyer is."

"Who?" He started to turn.

"Don't—"

"Well, you can't say something like that and expect that I won't. Who is it?"

"How could a guy like Layton afford him?"

"Who? You have five seconds before I do look."

"Blake Golden."

"The Blake Golden?"

"Yep."

This lawyer was one worth Layton having. He was the Golden in Golden, Broderick and Maine, a prestigious defense firm that founded itself upon its media publicity and high profile cases. "Maybe he does charity work?"

"You mean pro bono?"

"Sure. Whatever."

*****

THEY DECIDED TO START WITH WHAT THEY KNEW. Layton's fingerprints were on the cuffs, and he had a love for G & C ties.

Madison set out a photo of the necktie that had been used to strangle Laura. "Does this tie look familiar to you?"

Layton consulted with his lawyer.

Now being face-to-face with the man, Golden himself, Madison couldn't help but transport his character to a time past. Say, 1930's Italian mob boss. His black hair reached about an inch over the ridge of his shirt collar and was slicked back, shining with gel. His face portrayed contempt and disgusted arrogance. She could envision him in the midst of a smoky room, ordering hits while sucking on a Cuban cigar and playing poker.

Layton answered. "Gallo & Costa, style B581, discontinued in '99."

What kind of person knew their ties in that detail? Madison tapped her hand on the photo. "So you know your ties, Mr. Layton." She sensed the lawyer looking at her, trying to anticipate her next word, ready to pounce. Layton appeared calm this morning. "Do you own a tie like this one?"

"You don't have to answer that," Golden cautioned his client.

Layton proceeded anyhow. "I wish to. I never cleared enough back then to consider G & C."

Madison's train of thought jumped to another thing keeping her up last night. Layton's big feet. "And what size shoe do you wear?"

"Size twelve. What does it matter?" His pitch rose.

"Relevance, Detective," Golden said.

"A muddy shoe print was lifted from the scene. Size twelve. And this tie..." She tapped the photo. "The one your client recognized was the one used to strangle Laura Saunders."

"For one, Detective, size twelve is a common male size. In fact, that's the same size I wear. Do you think I'm the killer?"

She held no respect for those who played their part in freeing criminals and chastised herself for giving brief consideration to it as a career option early on.

"And is my client the only one in the world who could have owned that tie?"

"His fingerprints were found on handcuffs used to subdue Laura Saunders."

"And I believe he offered an explanation for that."

She wasn't gaining any ground. She'd approach it from another angle. "The killer left behind DNA evidence at the scene. We'll need a sample from your client." It was apparent the meeting was more between them and the lawyer, than Layton and them.

"I don't think you have enough to go on, Detective."

"We have more than enough circumstantial evidence. We have—"

"Yes. Circumstantial." The flicker in his eyes revealed the contempt he felt toward her. Yet she swore she also detected a hint of respect.

"Should it also be deemed circumstantial that Layton fled town after Laura was murdered?"

Golden glanced at Layton, then back to Madison. A light smile grazed his lips. "He never left town."

She heard Golden's rebuttal but needed to stay focused. Where Layton had been was inconsequential. They had him now. "He rented a car under an assumed name, planned on selling his car."

"And this makes him guilty of murder?"

"Why use the deceased's last name?"

Layton leaned in toward his lawyer, spoke in his ear. Golden sat back, gestured for his client to speak.

"I'll give you my DNA, but it won't give you anything."

She had to wonder why now and not yesterday, but his eyes held such depth, it made her wary of trying to derive an answer from them. Besides, she had his consent, which made it hard to fight off a victorious smirk.

Layton adjusted his glasses, sat back in the chair, and crossed his arms.

"Let the record note that my client has already disclosed the fact he was in the victim's—"

"Laura's." Layton corrected him. "Just say her damned name. Laura!"

Golden gave it a few seconds before speaking again. "Laura's bedroom. Therefore, it's presumed you may find a trace of DNA that ties back to my client. This in no way implicates him as her killer."

Madison connected eyes with Golden. "Correction," she paused for dramatic emphasis. "If his DNA comes back a match, I assure you, this will implicate your client." She stood to leave and Terry followed.

"What happened to your thinking he was innocent?" Terry asked once they were out of the room.

His speaking interrupted her current dilemma, one that raised her intuition against fact and motive. She shrugged her shoulders. "We'll see. You might make your money back after all."

*****

"WE NEED THE RESULTS RUSHED, CYN."

"I appreciate you're in a bind, but I can't do anything. The analyzer's still down. I can request a rush from Uniqus. Like I did with the towel."

"I see how that rush worked. Then we have no choice. We'll have to release him."

"Sor—"

Madison hung up before she heard the full apology. Apologies meant nothing. They could have Laura's killer in their custody, but they didn't have enough to keep holding him. And another thing aggravating her was Terry, who took off trying to reconcile with his wife every time she turned to look the other way.

Madison watched the sergeant approach. The day kept getting better.

"Have you laid the charges?"

"There's not enough there."

"We conducted a search for the man. You wanted his face in the papers, from what I recall. And we're letting him go?"

"No option. It wouldn't hold up."

"Find a reason to arrest him so we can hold him."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"You need the DNA results?"

"Yes."

"Leave it with me."

Finally, her boss was going to take an active part in this case.