Free Final Judgment by Joel Goldman Page B

Mr. Fish’s car. Agent Holt is directing the response to that request and has been designated as our liaison to the homicide investigation.”
    Kelly took her cue, opening her manila folder, drawing Mason’s eyes to her hands. No rings. Still. He remembered how confidently those hands had gripped a shotgun and how tightly they had held him. Her crisp voice brought him back.
    “The body was decapitated and the hands were amputated, which eliminated identification by facial features, dental records, and fingerprints. That made it difficult to identify the victim but not impossible.”
    Mason listened as much for what Kelly said as what she didn’t say. If the killer wanted to be certain that the body wasn’t identified, he wouldn’t have left it in Fish’s car. He’d have hidden it where no one would ever find it. If the feds couldn’t explain why the killer dumped the body in Fish’s lap, they didn’t know as much as they wanted him to think they knew.
    Samuelson picked up where Kelly left off. “The police provided us with a DNA sample the morning the body was discovered.”
    “The Bureau maintains a DNA database,” Kelly added, their presentation tightly choreographed. “We found a preliminary match. A complete analysis won’t be finished until next week, but the prelim has a ninety-five-percent confidence level.”

EIGHTEEN
    They let that bit of news hang in the air like a come-on in a singles bar. Fish leaned back in his chair, arms contentedly draped over his belly. Mason sat up straight. Fish was right. If the feds had information to exonerate Fish, they had to give it to the cops. If the information somehow incriminated Fish, they had to turn that over as well.
    “I’m sure you’ve already shared that news with the police,” Mason said.
    “Actually, not yet,” Samuelson said. “We just got the information yesterday. Agent Holt has been very busy, but I’m certain she’ll get together with the detectives as soon as she can.”
    “You had time to invite us over to play Let’s Make a Deal , but you’re too busy to call the police and tell them whose body was in the trunk of my client’s car. Things must really be hopping down here,” Mason said.
    Roosevelt Holmes raised one hand an inch off the table, stopping his subordinates from responding.
    “Mr. Mason, you’d be surprised just how much things do hop down here. In fact, we can make just about anything or anyone hop, skip, or dance. You keep that in mind.” He glanced at his watch and stood. “You’ll excuse me. I have another meeting,” he said and left.
    “This must be good,” Mason said. “Your boss wants us to know he’s behind whatever you’re about to offer, but he wants the plausible deniability that comes from not being here when you offer it. Makes it lonely in the middle.”
    Samuelson leaned back in his chair, confident in the support from his boss.
    “We will tell the police the identity of the victim. However, we do have some flexibility regarding when and what else we tell them because of an ongoing investigation being conducted by our office and the FBI. That’s where Mr. Fish comes in. We’d like his help. If he agrees, we’ll tell you what we know.”
    “You’ll have to tell us what this other investigation is about and what you expect my client to do,” Mason said.
    Samuelson shook his head. “I can’t do that without an agreement in advance that we have a deal. It’s too sensitive.”
    “And if he refuses to sign on for a secret mission too secret to tell us what it’s about up front, you’ll let him be prosecuted for a crime you know he didn’t commit? Do you really think you can get away with that?”
    “Let’s be clear about a couple of things,” Samuelson said. “We may know who the murder victim is, but we don’t know whether Mr. Fish is innocent or guilty. We won’t interfere with that investigation and we won’t set up your client to take the fall for a crime he didn’t commit. The