Page 51 of Devil's Iris
“People of the State of New York versus Eric Turner. Docket number 2023-403. One count of murder in the second degree.”
The judge flips through the file in front of him. It’s thin since the few scraps of evidence against Eric are purely circumstantial. No weapon, no prints, no eyewitness. Sure, there are a few gaps in the timeline, but the kid has a rock-solid alibi with multiple witnesses who place him there during the estimated time of the victim’s death.
Harlan peers at Eric over the rim of his glasses. “Mr. Turner, you’ve been charged with murder in the second degree. How do you plead?”
Eric faces the bench, his voice strong and clear. “Not guilty, your honor.”Beautiful delivery—exactly as I coached him. Calm, respectful, with just enough bewilderment, like the very idea that he could commit such an act is too shocking to comprehend.
The kid is good.
The judge nods, making his notation.
Janice springs to her feet, bristling with an anger that doesn’t feel manufactured. She seems hell-bent on nailing Eric, and I frown as I watch her go through the motions.
She starts with motive: Hank’s girlfriend—the woman who caused the issue between Eric and Hank—said Hank told her Eric wasn’t happy with him for some unspecified reason just days before his death, and that he had something important to tell her.
Then opportunity: Eric had approved guest access to Hank’s apartment and could walk right in without being stopped by the security guard.
Finally, inconsistencies: a security guard initially claimedhe saw Eric heading up to Hank’s apartment an hour before he died, but when no footage surfaced to back up his story, he retracted his statement.
Poor Janice.She’s hitting all the right notes, but she has no idea what she’s up against. Not really. Not the way I do. So nothing she throws at the wall is going to stick, no matter how hard she tries.
“Mr. Turner had a personal connection to the victim, which raises serious concerns about intent,” she continues, eyeing Eric like she knows he did it and just needs to prove it.She’s welcome to try.
Then she pivots, pushing for stricter bail conditions, bringing up his upcoming birthday and how he ‘never celebrates it in the city’. “We’re looking at a potential flight risk, your honor.”
I let her finish her spiel before speaking. “Your honor, Mr. Turner has been out on bail for over a week. No violations, no incidents. He’s been punctual for every check-in, fully cooperative with all requirements. He knows he has to remain in the city until this case is over. He’snota flight risk.”
Harlan holds my gaze for a moment, then shifts his attention to Janice. “No changes to bail. We’ll proceed under the current terms. Next appearance in two weeks. Discovery deadlines as discussed.” The gavel comes down with finality.
Clean, efficient—I check my watch—and right on time.
Eric smooths his cuffs as we step into the hallway, every bit the innocent college kid accused of something unthinkable. His expression is relaxed. “That went well. Think I should start practicing my Oscar speech?”
Cocky little shit.“Save it. We’re just getting started.” This was merely the opening act. The real performance hasn’t even begun.
The kid has to jog to keep up as I head for the elevators. “Think I’ll walk free?”
He’s fishing for reassurance. I give him a cool stare as I press the elevator’s call button. “I’ve gotten worse than you acquitted.” Hardened criminals with actual blood on their hands—not so different from my brothers and me. Men who go on to keep committing crimes, just in a smarter way.
“The rules still stand,” I tell him as we step out of the elevator on the first floor and walk out of the courthouse. “No birthday parties, no going out. Not until this case is over.”
He grumbles but doesn’t argue.Good.
I give him one last nod before sliding into my car. Almost time for my lunch meeting with Senator Julian Demarco.
During the drive to the restaurant, I receive a text from Sandro.
SANDRO
Remember when you said something was fishy about the records for the medications in the warehouse? Well, it looks like you have a thief.
I shake my head as I read the words, fingers tightening around my phone. Don’t these fools learn anything? Some idiots tried the exact same thing last year in Michael’s territory and died gruesome deaths. They think I’ll let it slide because I’m considered the more easygoing one in our group?
They’re wrong.
Find the culprit. Quickly.
The host guides me through the crowded downtown restaurant towards the window table where Julian is already waiting. He beat me here by mere minutes.
