Compelling Evidence (12 page)

"She'd be doin' society a consi service."

"That badt' Leo giggles a bit, one of those dirty giggles, in the pi a cheap tenor. He shakes his head as if my question is a understatement.

"Politicians are assholes." He says this like it is one axioms of nature. I decide to probe a little further before turning to the real of our conversation. "What do you know about Tony Skarpellos, his firm?

know if they have a client who's involved in the thing?"

L.eo shrugs his'shoulders. "Know Skarpellos only from reputation," he says. "P lot of influence with the people downtown. Kinda guy who, dirty politics a bad name."

He takes a gulp from his glass. "Seems to be the sus," he says, "that his mother must have flinched at minute."

I look quizzically at Kerns. "Opinion has it the better part of Tony Skarpellos ran father's leg the night he was conceived."

Kerns puts out a pudgy hand for a couple of stick p the bowl at the center of the table. "Does Lama have anything solid to go on?

In the in tion?" I ask. If It f Give him d he'll pr77 so

"Bits and

pieces" he says. "But you kntaolwentlama.

oducmeentihiruamcibesscrtehwesinaqduiariktiroonolmo,stanad a little timein,atnhat one." grea A gaggle of secretaries, legislative staff, and other political groupies begin to spread out at the bar. They're squeezing the two women in short skirts at the end. One of them takes her purse and moves to a table a few feet from ours. Kerns is all eyes.

It would be an ambitious project for the little man. For starters he would need a ladder, Still, I've never known Leo Kerns to shrink in the face of a true challenge. There's a rush Of commotion near the entrance as three men in worsted pinstripes waltz through the door, followed closely by an entourage of lesser lights. The man in the lead is recognizable to anyone who's lived in the state for more than a week and watched the local television news more than once. Corey Trumble is the speaker of the state assembly, Kerns shoots a glance over his shoulder at the group, then back to the woman at the table off to his right.

She's crossed her legs and is now showing a good deal of thigh. Her attention is riveted on the lawmakers and the coterie of lobbyists groveling in their wake. "I think she's interested in carving another notch in that skirt," says Leo. I nod and smile. "Vice would have a field day in here." Perhaps, I think. But they'll never get the chance.

Topper's is Off‐limits to the local cops'a sort of unwritten territorial rule. Legislators and other state officials are fair Mine out in the hinterlands, in the north area or the south par@'of the city. But here, in the shadow of the capitol dome, the only badges that move are pinned on the sergeants‐at‐arms mostly old men or part‐time students, people who take their orders from Corey Trumble and his ilk in the state senate. "What do you think? You think there's anything to Lama's suspicions?" I struggle against mounting odds to draw Leo's attention back to our conversation. "I should be asking' you that question." He speaks slowly his eyes glued on the hooker's legs. "You're the lady's lawyer.': He chews on an ice cube and looks back at me. "One thing's for sure. If she's got anything, she's in a position to deal. Lama's sure that the case is a fast track to a promotion and the word that Nelson smells big headlines. The way &ngs are going : I in the office these days, he could end up with enough go statewide. Conventional wisdom seems to be that 1A political sewn and the Potter killing, if Nelson can

‐j(4,4' lid on both cases quickly, he could_@nd up bein' the attorney general. First law of political gravity, up and always up and onward. He winks, his tongue slithering around at dw bottom of his for a sliver of ice. Kerns knows that he's paid for his drink Hawley's expectations of an outright dismissal are not idle fantasy. I wave the waitress over and gesture to Leo. He, MUWW,@' hand like the guardrail at a train crossing‐his look like,1774' condemning abortion. He's had enough. But before I can agreement, the expression and the hand melt like slush on day. "Oh, what the hell, one more," he says. "The same.11 I take my wallet out again. The waitress clears our heads for the bar. C I' covered my tracks, and Kerns has opened the door ve his comment on the

Potter case. "What do you guys have on Potter?" I ask. f He looks at me and smiles. "Half the world would like ris 11@ the answer to that." He winks. "They're gonna find out 11 soon. "LA)tta stuff in the papers," I say. Nelson's begun to leak rumors touting a short list elf @Ii 1‐`@"

but no names or details; it's the classic nonstory, but it ‐Al with the media, a little raw meat tossed on the press‐room to keep the issue on the front page‐the scent of a good come. By the time Nelson moves with an arrest ot‐'wim=j, X@ giant web presses at the Times and Trib will already be

"T., and running. The man is no fool. As usual Talia appears sil, 11; to all of this. In the same edition, with the stor her'1=7 ,y of I murder investigation, she's pictured in the society charity event dressed like the favorite concubine of some

"Yeah," says Leo, "before

they finish puttin' type to iravi on this one, they'll kill half the trees in North America." t

"They're that close?" I say. He nods. "If you can believe 'em. Kerns has a secret. He's like a man with hot embers I pockets, and ifs killing him. "You were pretty close to Potter, weren't you?" He tries the burden of conversation to me. 7. /rf "We were friends," I say. But he can't resist. "Let me tell you, Duane's been a busy boy lately. In the office ,61 the wee hours burning the midnight oil with the brain trust duee nights runnin'." He leans over the table a little closer and drops several decibels in volume. "He's callin' a press conference for the morning. Seems they have an indictment." He thumps the table with two fingers as if to make his point. At this I am surprised. Grand juries in this state usually issue indictments only in cases involving prominent defendants, where prosecutors want to spread the political accountability for their actions. I arch an eyebrow. The coals bum hotter. He's fidgeting in his chair. "He's got this theory, Nelson has. Since he got started it seems to be pointing in one direction, one suspect, Re the needle on a compass with a constant north‐91 "Who?" I ask. I'The merry widow‐Potter's wife." He looks around the room to make sure nobody's tuned in to our conversation, and then: I@Grand jury handed down an indictment against Talia Potter just after two this afternoon, one count, first‐degree murder."

This statement seems to move me‐propel me away from the table and Leo Kerns. I lose eye contact with him for a moment, stunned by what I'm hearing. I make a face‐like

"Fancy that." It is all I can do, for if I

open my mouth, it will utter only incredulity. I'm speechless, unable to move, even to inquire further. Kerns's words have frozen me in place.

"With special circumstances," he says. This latter means that Talia may be bound over for trial on a charge of murder‐and if convicted could face the death penalty. My mind is flooded by images of Brian Danley and his last fleeting moments of life in that little green room, my trip to San Quentin and death at the bands of the state. "Looks like the lady's got a lover. More to the point, it looks like she's got a string of 'em, you know, like the polo set keep ponies, this broad collects hunks," he says. "Nelson thinks she got bored with the old man early on, and she and one of the boyfriends popped him for the money. The old man was worth a bundle."

"There's easier ways to be rid of a husband than killing him." With some difficulty, I've scrambled mentally out of my hole, enough to throw a little water on this theory, the 17M. Talia might kill to rid herself of Ben. "Not if there's a prenuptial agreement," he says. Z I look at him as if to say, "Is this truet'he nods. "Seems the hormones didn't completely kill 4r", I lj@ man s sense of business."

This is Ben, I think, ever the lawyer. "Ironclad," Leo says of this agreement. He stops to look at the hooker, who's now been one of the lobbyists at her table. Kerns says nothing for seconds. He's studying the two with an intense @"Iklqmx he's overheard something. Perhaps the price of swooiqn19, rise together and walk toward the bar and the three Trumble, and his contingent. "Some more fringe benefits , I think," says Kerns. He the woman's long legs with an obvious leer. It's a special 4

sion, I think, not the open stare of your usual lecher, but 171, reserved by short men for tall women. it has a comic saves it from the lascivious. "Ironclad." I remind him where he was. "Humm?" 1@1The prenuptial agreement."

"Oh yeah." Kerns runs a single hand through thinning MTM straightens his tie a little, leaving the knot halfway AMWITORW as if that part doesn't matter. He's primping himself a little lady, who doesn't know he exists.

"Yeah." He brings himself back to me for the esis)w4iift, agreement may not ensure marital bliss, but it'd in about divorce." Leo stretches himself acro twice ss the F11 de, moving closer to me as if he's about to impart the ‐.,j 7stlt of the golden fleece. "You see, the only way she takes is el " married when he dies. Then she gets it all. Otherwise at me‐‐‐‐@'she'd better open a fruit stand."

I'm dazed. Neither Talia nor Ben ever mentioned a .,io 6 a prenuptial agreement. But why should they, I think. something of marital intimacy, like the frequency of sex ways they liked it. Talia, even in her most indiscreet we'," would never discuss such things. As for Ben, it would be ‐ C of business, a commercial confidence to be treated like TT of papal succession. "Nelson's movin' on the theory that the wife got a VM, serious with one of the lovers. One‐night stands were sitz., enough. So she and the boyfriend popped the victim and tried to make it look like suicide." Leo waffles one hand a little over the table like this may wash or not, he'll have to wait and see. in this moment of revelation I am struck cold. I tell myself in sobering mental tones, notwithstanding her chronic inattention to the mundane minutiae of life, the harsh reality of such a contract is not one of those obscure details that is likely to escape the Talia I know. I remember Coop's analysis. Whoever did Ben was an amateur. Talia never planned a thing in her life. It was her calling card. These facts begin to play upon me as I listen to the continuing ruminations of Leo Kerns, his words seeming to erupt from some hellish pit beneath the table. He laughs, that wicked high‐pitched snicker. "We'll know more when we get the boyfriend," he says. "Sucker's either gonna cooperate, or take some real gas." : CHAPTER 8.

So can we

entice you?" he asks. Gilbert Cheetarn has one of my r6sumi6s pilfered from the files of the firm. "Impressive," he says. "I must say, I agree with Tony‐Mr. Skarpellos. You would indeed make excellent Keenan counsel. A strong addition to our team." From what I can observe at the moment, Talia's defense team is composed of Cheetam as lead counsel and Ron Brown as his gofer. "As for Mrs. Potter, well," says Cheetam, "you were her choice from the beginning. Need I say more?" He talks of Talia as if she were the queen mother, instead of a defendant indicted on a charge of murder. Cheetam is polished, his diction manicured and well clipped like his fingemails. But he has the wary, searching eyes of a debt collector, dark pupils constantly cruising on a pool of white in search of some hidden opportunity. His eyebrows are thick forests of dark hair sh‐eaked with threads of silver, like the generous waves of hair on his head. He drops my rdsum6 on the desk and toys with one of the starch‐stiffened French cuffs extending an inch from the sleeve of each arm of his charcoal worsted suit. I know him only by reputation.

Gilbert Cheetam is a charter member of the silk‐stocking set. Two years ago he grabbed national headlines when a jury awarded $125 million against a Inajor automaker for a manufacturing defect‐a seat belt that allowed passengers to explore the regions beyond the windshield before restraining them. The headlines were smaller and lost in a sea of newsprint on the inside pages when a few weeks later 106 the trial judge reduced the award to eight million. Such ability of Gilbert Cheetam to inflame the passions of a to mesmerize the media. His call came late last night. It was after ten when the rang at my house. I assume, since I have an unliste either Talia or Skarpellos had given it to Cheet . He see me early this morning, here, at Potter, Sk los. So we sit in familiar surroundings, Ben's office, e death, unless we are to believe the scenario of the state. C7 S. is using this office to assemble the defense. He balances himself ceremoniously, his arms folded buttocks against the overhanging lip of Ben's hulix1,21 There's a vacancy behind it. Ben's leather high‐back chair is gone. This may be an act of good, taste on p janitorial staff. Or I wonder if this chair now sits in the property warehouse, along with several missing cei ng $I head, pieces of physical evidence in the evolving urder Cheetarn looks down at me from under the heavy, eyebrows. I'm seated in one of the deep client chairs 11C than two feet from him. This is a little posturing. Our *iattitudes are intended to demonstrate the working ‐W@ @,@ should I accept his offer to become Keenan counsel, number two in Talia's defense. It's absurd, he says, their case against Talia. He assures ill this is a prosecution constructed of smoke and mirrors. '91*1 a flourish to the air with both hands above the shoulders ;5:?! showing the magic that the state has employed in Mii,7711@1 case. This is, I suspect, for Talia's benefit. She sits _V,'on a couch off to the side, one leg crossed over the her arms folded, a defensive pose to match the words lawyer.

Skarpellos is seated at the opposite end of the couch '@4, on one of his Italian shit sticks. At least he has the 17_4717k to light it. Perhaps a little deference to Talia. In this state, defendants in capital cases are entitled r; lawyers, one to defend the case in chief, the other‐the

*‐V Keenan counsel, named for the case that laid down ‐ " 1 .414 to handle the penalty phase of the trial should a 6wowt%1,7, entered. It would be my job as Keenan counsel to itl.‐AA from the death chamber if she's convicted, to show ‐s_1;TMW the ‐4 or to attack the special circumstances alleged by @1 ‐rf would carry the death penalty. q Irt this case, the state is charging two special circumstances: murder for financial gain and lying in wait. But Chcetam assures me that my role in the case will be purely perfunctory, a necessary formality. He will, he says, demolish the state's case in the preliminary hearing. Talia will never stand trial. She smiles noticeably at this thought. The papers are filled with copy of yesterday's news conference: Duane Nelson telling how he solved Ben's murder, omitting the details, but stating without much reservation that this was a calculated killing for profit, Only the Times picked up the final aside, a comment made in response to a question hurled at Nelson as he made his way to the door. The investigation continues for an unidentified accomplice. Cheetarn sits looking at me expectantly. "So," he says," Will you join us in this little soiree?" He makes it sound like tea and crumpets. "I take it you aren't impressed with the state's caret' He makes a face. "I haven't seen all of the evidence. But what I've seen"‐‐he wrinkles an eyebrow; it moves like a mouse glued to his forehead‐‐‐‐‐@'all circumstantial."