Bill Harvey Collection Read online

  BILL HARVEY

  COLLECTION

  BOOKS 1 – 4

  PETER O’MAHONEY

  BILL HARVEY COLLECTION: BOOKS 1 - 4

  A Legal Thriller Series

  Peter O’Mahoney

  Copyright © 2019

  Published by Roam Free Publishing

  1st edition.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  REDEEMING

  JUSTICE

  BILL HARVEY

  BOOK 1

  PETER O’MAHONEY

  When you live so close to the edge, you have to be prepared to fall over it.

  Chapter 1

  The black sedan stopped one block shy of its destination, the narrow streets packed with patrol cars, the flashing lights blinding eyes. Ten patrol cars, at least.

  Bill Harvey jolted out of his car, slammed the door behind him, and ran hurriedly through the warm September air. Despite the warmth, despite the heat from the Californian sun, Harvey didn’t ditch his coat. It was his safety blanket, and at that moment, he needed all the comfort he could get.

  Closer. He reached the yellow tape around the perimeter, stepping under the tape with confidence, but a fresh-faced police officer held out his hands to stop him.

  “Detective Pitt wants me here,” Harvey stated firmly.

  The officer stared up at him for a moment and then nodded at his colleague to check with the lead detective at the scene. The officer was quick to return and let him through.

  Closer now. The tears were forming in his eyes, the sweat gathering under his thick coat, the nervousness starting to grow in his stomach.

  He knew this place well. Even without the directions from the countless police, he knew his way through the building. With this many officers, it felt more like a terrorist attack than a crime scene.

  “Harvey.” One of the officers grabbed his arm. It was Detective Ramos. They had never liked each other. “I’m sorry.”

  Without acknowledging Ramos, Harvey continued to the main room.

  “Harvey. Wait.” Detective Matthew Pitt stepped forward to stop him going any further. “That’s as far as you can go. We’re still processing this crime scene, and we can’t let you in there.”

  “Tell me you have a lead.”

  “We have a lead.”

  “Who?”

  “Harvey.” Pitt placed his hand on Harvey’s shoulder, directing him away from the living room of the regally styled house. “Mary is in the other room. She needs you to comfort her. She needs to be taken away from here, and she asked for you. She wanted you to be one of the first to know. And I think she liked the idea of having a lawyer here. You can make her feel safe.”

  “Is she a suspect?”

  “Mary? No, of course not. She has an alibi, and I couldn’t imagine her doing something like that. You should go to her.”

  “I need information first.”

  “Of course, your mind is always working.” Pitt rubbed his brow and looked away. The LAPD Forensic Science Division members pushed past them, ready to analyze the frantic crime scene. “He was a good man. He had the respect of everyone in the department. Not many judges have been as well-liked as he was.”

  “Tell me what happened, Pitt.” Harvey’s voice was still firm.

  Pitt drew a long breath, stepped closer to Harvey, and kept his voice low amongst the activity. “I know he was your mentor. I know that you and Hardgrave were very close. We—”

  “Tell me what happened,” Harvey repeated.

  “Earlier today, Hardgrave was shot in his living room at close range. One bullet between the eyes. Mary found his body lying in his new orange armchair—just delivered this morning. Blood is all over it. Killed instantly. He wouldn’t have felt any pain, Harvey.”

  “Time of death?”

  “It looks like he’s been dead for eight to ten hours.”

  “Cameras?”

  “They’ve all been switched off. The shooter knew what they were doing.”

  “Witnesses?”

  “None.”

  Wailing came from the other room. It was the desperate cry of a woman who had lost her companion, friend, and husband. Harvey turned to go to Judge Andrew Hardgrave’s second wife, Mary, and take her away from the crime scene.

  “Harvey.” Pitt reached across and grabbed his arm. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Go on.” Harvey’s words were cold, as were his emotions.

  “I saw you talking to Carlos López this afternoon. He has connections here. We have a lead, and it points in his direction.”

  “López? How?”

  “Hardgrave’s estranged daughter, Michelle Hardgrave, is the girlfriend of Juan Lewis. That’s where we’re looking. Lewis, of course, is closely connected to Carlos López and Roberto Miles. All three of them were seen together on many occasions. And rumor around the department is that Hardgrave tipped off the police this morning which led to your client’s apartment being raided. This is off the record, but Lewis was supposed to be in there today with a briefcase full of drugs. Except Lewis wasn’t in the apartment… so your client has to take the fall for the drugs.”

  Carlos López, a reformed criminal, called Bill Harvey’s office after he was arrested for felony drug possession. Facing four years in prison, he was desperate for help from one of L.A.’s most respected lawyers.

  “Not López. He walked away from the game a long time ago. He did his time and came out a changed man. López has spent the last nine years working in drug rehab centers. He’s not a killer. He’s out of that game.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Pitt shrugged. “But he’s connected here somehow. Lewis, Miles, and López were all big players once. These are dangerous men, Harvey. Very dangerous. Be careful.”

  “I can look after myself.”

  “Of course you can. Just tread carefully. Lewis and Miles are still two of the heavy players on the East L.A. drug scene. I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into. These people are very well-connected, and their connections run very high up.”

  “Are you saying that this murder was drug-related?”

  “No.” Pitt stopped talking as another detective walked past. Once the hall was clear, he began again. “But judges don’t just get shot. This isn’t a robbery, and it isn’t even close to being an accident. This is a targeted hit. Whatever Judge Hardgrave was involved in—”

  “He wasn’t involved in anything.”

  “Of course.” Pitt looked at the ground. “Mary is shaken up, Harvey. She needs someone to take her away from here. She asked for you.”

  “You’d better chase down this killer quickly.” Harvey’s words were cold again. “Because if you don’t, I will.”

  Chapter 2

  The tone of L.A. traffic was more frantic than usual.

  On the drive to his office, Bill Harvey was verbally abused twice on the roads—once by a fervently swearing mother with two young children in the back of her car, and the second time by an old lady who couldn’t see where she was going. He had never heard such foul language come from a woman with pink rollers in her hair.

  Neither incident was Harvey’s fault, but his drive included middle fingers, horns, and enough swear words to make the Pope faint. Not that it was anything unusual for L.A. traffic.

  “Hello, Kate. Any news?” Harvey stepped into his office, greeting his secretary.

  The spacious office in Downtown Los Angeles reminded him how far he had come. From the days when he first came
to the city, working as a hypnotherapist in what was formerly known as South Central L.A., to now owning his piece of this great city. It was an office that crime and justice had paid for, at least in one way or another.

  “No news yet, I’m afraid.” Kate smirked. “Have you got anything to report?”

  “Only that you look amazing today.”

  Kate Spencer brushed a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Despite her natural beauty, despite her easy smile, compliments hadn’t always come her way. Her now ex-husband did everything he could to drag her confidence down. After being called ugly on a weekly basis by the man she once loved, her self-esteem was shattered, and it had taken a long time to slowly rebuild her love for herself. Looking in the bathroom mirror was still a painful process.

  “I’ll have you know that I’m a lot more than just my looks. I should be judged on my talents, not just my appearance. I’m a very useful employee, and I would like to think that I’m here for more than being just a pretty face.” Her stern eyes looked up to her boss. “I should be respected for my work, not my looks.”

  “I know that you’re an intelligent, smart, feisty, and witty woman, who is very capable of doing this job… but you also look mighty fine today.”

  Even when he had to deal with society’s lowest level of scum—the murderers, thieves, and psychos of L.A.—Kate’s genuine smile lightened his day.

  And without her skills, he would be a disorganized mess.

  “Thanks, boss. You too.” Her shoulders shrugged a little as she accepted the compliment. “How was the funeral for Judge Hardgrave?”

  “Horrible.” Harvey slumped into the chair opposite his secretary’s desk, the one usually reserved for clients. Despite working in this office for the past four years, it was the first time he had sat in the chair.

  The office was spacious, well lit, and with Kate’s artistic design touch, it felt contemporary. With two large abstract pieces of art on the walls, the room was inspiring for staff and impressive for clients.

  “You didn’t stay for the wake?”

  “I hate those things. I hate the idea of being forced to talk to so many grieving people that I’ve have never met before. There are hugs, and tears, and way too many emotions. I would much rather be here working.”

  “Emotions aren’t your strong point,” Kate mumbled under her breath. “Have they arrested anyone for the murder yet?”

  “Not yet,” he responded quietly, and his eyes looked towards the floor.

  Reflecting on the loss of his mentor, associate, and friend, Harvey stared into nothingness. After he graduated as a lawyer, Judge Andrew Hardgrave was the first judge Harvey stood before. In his first case, Harvey was a nervous, fumbling mess—the opposite of what he was today.

  Hardgrave saw some of himself in the young lawyer and offered to mentor him in the legal process. That relationship grew into a genuine bond between two strong males, and their monthly dinners became the centerpiece of stability in their busy lives.

  The funeral hit him hard. The smell, the air of discomfort, and the constant sobbing almost broke through the strong wall around his heart. His distant father helped him build that wall. ‘Caring for something will make you weak, boy,’ his father repeated at the dinner table over and over. His father’s funeral was a low point in his life, and he had hated funerals ever since.

  But he was reaching a time in life where he was attending more funerals than weddings, listening to more sad tears than happy ones. It was the fourth funeral he attended that year, with not one wedding to balance it out. He would much rather be watching two people enter into a legal agreement to make each other unhappy for the rest of their lives than listen to the painful cries of a devastated widow.

  Nothing was as soul-destroying as listening to a widow cry.

  “They must have a lead, don’t they? They must have something?”

  “Not even close. They’re scared. The cops are scared. The detectives are scared. The whole department is afraid of these guys. The leads they have related to this shooting are very well-connected people, and the detectives know that they have to step lightly in this case, or they’ll be shot themselves.”

  “But that’s their job.”

  “They’re still just people doing a job. They have families they want to go home to at the end of the day. Their own children to protect. I don’t blame them for stepping lightly.” Harvey had the greatest respect for what the men and women in blue did for their city’s safety, even if they hated him for defending the people they tried to lock away.

  “Do you think the connections go all the way up?”

  “Maybe, but personally, I think Hardgrave was the top of the tree.”

  “Are you saying that he was on the take? He was a dishonest judge?”

  “Not a chance. He was too straight for that. I think he was being used, and when he was no longer of use, someone killed him.”

  Kate gazed at the man she had adored for so long. There was an aching, a vulnerability, in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to hug him, to tell him everything would be alright, because she knew that underneath that tough-guy exterior, he was hurting.

  But she couldn’t do that.

  Her boss wouldn’t dare show any weakness in public. He reserved those moments for when he was alone in his house, with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, before he would let any tears flow.

  Nobody else was allowed to see that.

  “I’m sure that they’ll get the job done.” Kate tried to soothe him. “The police won’t let this case go cold. It’s too big a case; it’s in the paper every day. They can’t let a judge’s killer get away with it. They’ll get him. I’m sure they will.”

  “I wouldn’t be so confident.” Harvey stood and began to make his way to his inner office. He paused, and looked back to his faithful supporter. “But we will help them find the killer. We’ll do what they can’t, go where they won’t, and then we’ll hand them the evidence to make an arrest.”

  “Where would we even begin?”

  “At the start.” His voice was firm. “And our first lead arrives in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter 3

  Law books lined one wall, psychology books the other. Between them sat the sum of that knowledge; a lawyer whose patience was wearing thin. Not that patience was his strength.

  Harvey sat behind his large desk, tapping his foot impatiently, his eyes never leaving the door. The afternoon sunlight flooded in the window behind him, warming his back slightly, and the computer desktop next to him glowed annoyingly. He hated computers. Never trusted them. He would much rather have piles of paper notes than one electronic document.

  “Your four o’clock, Carlos López, is here,” Kate buzzed through on Harvey’s phone system. The moment had arrived.

  “Send him through.”

  Carlos López was slow to move. He rubbed his shoulder, an old injury, before sluggishly making his way through the glass door that led into the office of his criminal defense attorney. Dressed in jeans and a shirt that had absorbed a lot of sweat over the years, he didn’t even manage a smile to greet his defender.

  He’d lived life hard, but he’d lived it well.

  As a former hypnotherapist, Harvey spent years reading people and their reactions, and he could see that Carlos was a man with a hard past. His face had more wrinkles than a typical forty-five year-old, and he was almost devoid of any smile lines—the effect of a life lived in serious business.

  “Carlos López. It’s nice to see you again.” Harvey greeted him at the door with a handshake.

  “Hello, Bill. I’ve had a tough morning. I could really do with some good news today.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you there, Carlos. Just more questions.” Harvey walked around to the front of his desk, picked up a pen, and leaned against the wall, intently watching his client’s reaction. “What do you know about Judge Andrew Hardgrave?”

  Carlos López’s face reacted with a look of confus
ion as he sat in a comfortable armchair. “The murdered judge?”

  Harvey didn’t offer a response.

  “I never met him.”

  Harvey waited. Silence can be an amazing weapon in pressuring a person to answer.

  “Look, I never met the judge directly, but I’ve known his daughter for a while,” Carlos conceded. “I’ve heard his name thrown around a bit over the years. Judge Hardgrave’s daughter, Michelle, has been dating my cousin for years. They have a really on-off relationship, but I think they’re back together again.”

  “Juan Lewis?”

  “That’s him. She’s been dating Juan for a long time, but from what Juan told me, she wasn’t close to her father. She hardly talked to him, although Juan liked to encourage them to chat. He liked being connected to high-powered people.” Carlos paused, and squinted at Harvey. “But I don’t understand what this has to do with my case?”

  “Did Lewis ever mention Judge Hardgrave?”

  “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “Answer the question.” Harvey was firm with his client. A man with a hardened past like Carlos López didn’t react well to a soft touch; he reacted well to firmness.

  “Like I said, I’ve heard his name mentioned a few times.” Carlos waited for Harvey to respond, but he didn’t. “Lewis would talk to Hardgrave, and Hardgrave would keep him updated on a few things that have been happening around the city. It was a give and take relationship between the two of them.”

  “Are you saying that Judge Hardgrave was dirty?”

  “No. Not even close. Hardgrave would just answer a few questions for Lewis, like who would be the best cop to talk to about getting information. Or if any targeted investigations were going his way. Nothing serious, and nothing that could get Hardgrave into trouble. Just a helping hand here and there.”