Compelling Evidence (6 page)

Gibbs begins to stutter. "Y‐Your Honor. The lady was running a bordello out of her apartment. She was caught soliciting paymetit for sexual intercourse on behalf of another hooker," be Says. in fact, this is a gross exaggeration, which I protest to Acosta. ley Haw shared an apartment with another woman. She paid the S‐,77,@ and the telephone bills while her co‐tenant bought the groceries and paid for the remainder of the utilities. The fact that phone was in Hawley's name and was used for incoming AWS to hire dates for both women forms the basis for charges ,‐M she was pimping for the other woman. I put on the facts IH?.‐ a suit of clothes and verbally pound the table. It's an explawwon that seems to fit well, to the discerning eye of Armando P. He has never been one much for the finer intricacies of V4. law. Acosta's now shuffling papers on his desk. He speaks in a *717;7(1 with a faint Mexican accent, not the intonations of street V7M ant and precise, as if the next phrase from his 3w, but eleg hawk the rich qualities of

"Corinthian leather " It is an SM‐;iwo that, like the judicial bearing, has been lea'med, for his Hispanic surname Acosta does not speak the lanuajyi@ The affected inflections of voice are just another concesi to the politics of demography in a state with a rapidly rising f.rrosis population. I have heard the poverty lawyers‐the young UN syii(rw on their steeds tilting at the bastions of the establishlzl the ones working for La Raza and the Mexican‐American @J.T,o**, Fund. In their circle, Acosta is known as the

"Castilian 4,41TOTIR " brown and fuzzy on

the outside, but white as driven '1,1XV at the core. He worships regularly at the altar of affirmative but anyone even vaguely familiar with the jurist knows that more in common with the An glos on the board of directors the Del Prado Country Club with whom he serves than with brown grounds‐keepers who rake its sand traps and mow its greens. But for the moment Acosta is a good judge, of sound discretion. sides with me. lie stares at the DA. "Is this true, counsel? Are you trying to

##‐@4;; this case to a felony, for purposes of plea bargaining? if that's what's going on here, this court will not coun'no, Your Honor."

Gibbs's denial is hollow. There's a momentary vacuum as Acosta waits for a f( reply. Finally the void is filled, but not by Gibbs. It's a gr@voice to the far side of the prosecutor. "Not exactly, Your W, Lama has waded in. "We're just asking' for her cooper., he says. This is a little dance that we've been doing now for near.' months‐Lama, Gibbs, and 1. It seems that my client is t@ a larger group‐4adies of the night who franchise their se to lobbyists and others who use the women to influenoe@ and other public actions. Lama wants their client list. 14W

dubbed that list "the boink book:' The police have been ce ing a white‐cottar‐crime investigation, and the list of clit*4 become pivotal.

"She wants our consideration," says Lam, "the ladyl lay down and roll over."

"Excuse met' says Acosta. "Feed us some of the bigger fish," says Lama.

"Oh," says the judge. "What the officer's trying to say:' says Gibbs,

"is defendant is a key witness. She knows the identities of sig@,@

public officials who have partaken of her services in ro' votes and other official acts."

"So we're talking bribery!" says Acosta. "In a big way." Lama's nodding now as if the judge hoo' caught on. "What would you have me do, officer, package the felony trial just so that you can squeeze her a little, b'this‐your bald aflegationst' Acosta has a look of worl@ on his face.

"In a word, yes." It is Lama at his deadpan best. "Your Honor, all we want is her cooperation." Gibbs@" put a face on it, tries to silence Lma before he can damage. "We are prepared to allow her to enter a plea to misdemeanor charge of prostitution, in return for her test, "I don't like this," I say. "If the state has evidenco client's complicity in other crimes, I have a right to see Honor."

"You don't have a right to anything, counsel," Lam@ from the lip. "This information is confidenti . Ifs R&@, to do with the prosecution of your client.' ‐Well, excuse me," I say, "but I'd like something besides your word for that." verbally we have stopped around Acosta. I'm now toe to toe with Lama, my words directed down the line past Gibbs, who sits fidgeting in his chair, flustered by the eroding decorum. I ask Lama what he's doing here. I note that he did not make the arrest on my client. "I didn't know that the police department was acting as a mouthpiece for the DA these days."

Gibbs is stung by the remark. He looks at me, an injured " *e * Lama begins to rise from his chair. F'Eissluogl, gentlemen‐‐enough." Acosta passes his hand over the desk like a prophet trying to calm the waters.

"My client's not copping a plea, and she's certainly not testifying until I know more."

Here the Coconut finally takes note of my presence. "Of course, of course, Mr. Madriani is correct." He smiles. I have given him i a way to bring this thing to a head. "If you have a deal, you must, of course, offer it through counsel."

"All we want are some names," says Gibbs. "A little cooperadon." ‐ "The court can't give you that, only my client can." Gibbs has opened the door a crack, and my foot is in it. "We can subpoena her." Lama wallows about like a water buffalo in the mud..11. "And she can take the Fifth,"

I say. "You can't compel her to testify if that testimony will incriminate her‐and the last time I looked, it took two to commit an act of prostitutionor bribery."

Acosta is growing restive, distracted by something else, some other, deeper concern. I can read it in his eyes, which have wandered from us.

"Perhaps I should bring my client in here, and we can see if Ae's willing to testify, and if so under what conditions."

Like an ammonia capsule, my suggestion delivers the Coconut 1horn his comatose state. "No, no, we do not have time for that. I live a crowded docket today." His hands flail the air, palms out protest. "Besides, I have learned from long experience that it best to separate clients and their emotions from the details of Tka @argaining and settlement negotiations." .it is as I suspected: Susan Hawley has been a busy woman' I play the final trump card. "Well, I think it's only fair to n that my client has given me precise instructions not to accept any offer short of art outright dismissal of all qj.. believe.that in return for such an offer she might be 14, to testify."

"Bullshit." Lama's on his feet. "Maybe. But unless she gets it, you don't have a .,j .i W "Listen ..." He begins to move around Gibbs.

"Officer, sit down." Acosta's in no mood for a TML( baritone voice echoes off the walls. "I think we're going rol to continue this matter on another date."

Acosta tells Gibbs to start thinking about immunity es' client. He says that with the crowded court calendar this something he wants to see tried in his court. Lama's Mn, M,* the Coconut is tired of humoring him.

There's some calendar conflicts. We settle on a date three weeks off. 71t@',' line of defense in any criminal case‐‐delay. I waive time. point

the last thing Susan Hawley needs is a speedy trial. "Counsel!"‐Acosta looks at me‐‐‐@"I don't think there any need for you to bring your client to court when we sz4xf vene on this matter. There's no reason to inflict any inconvenience."

"Certainly, if the court pleases‐and there's no ois ‐ o the prosecution." I look at Gibbs, whose mouth is about

"Well, the court

pleases:' says Acosta, "and there is @szszi.' tion from the prosecution." Gibbs's jaw slacks, his lines P!it by the court. As we rise to leave, Armando Acosta leans %

, his chair and arches his spine, an expression of relief ‐4Wrl his face. I suspect it isn't the first time Susan Hawley has ITT judge by the balls, though the last was unquestionably ) I @" private and provocative surroundings. It would appear It, expectations of dismissal are not idle thoughts after all.

CHAPTER 5.

IN the days following Den's

death, my mind has been playing tag with thoughts of recrimination, of my role in his misery with Talia. The funeral is now past, part of yesterday's news. Alone in my office I study a copy of the Tzib, which lies on my desk next to a tall glass of bourbon. I look at the three‐column photo above the fold. Talia was, I think, at least in that moment when light hit Mr. Kodak's emulsion, heavily into appearances.

She has made the front page. Her face shrouded by black lace, her mourning. suit by Armani, she is the chic picture of stoic sorrow. She stands three steps up on the cathedral stairs for the world to see, head held erect, a slight breeze ruffling the lace about her face. All that is missing is the toddler at her knee dressed in long coat, saluting the coffin. Under the picture a bold lead for the cudine: WIDOW GRIEVES.

Talia knows how to set a scene. I sip my drink and remember our last meeting. A dim hotel room across the river, ensconced in a once posh tennis resort now turned to seed. I rolled to her side of the bed and felt the cold wetness of my Own passions, a small portion of which had pooled in the creases Of the sheets beneath where her loins had rested.

She moved about the room a picture of indolent calm, gathering wisps of lacy underthings. Silence seemed Talia's special refuge after passion..

In my own time I came to understand that Talia was an inno‐ @Cmt, in the way that rich men's daughters.are often innocent, as if they are somehow immune to the usual social conventions. months that we met, following my separation from Nikki, ever we registered at a hotel I huddled under a broad‐brilmmm behind the heavy collar of a long coat in the winter or ov dark glasses that concealed a good part of my fa e in a, of summer. I used more aliases than there are celacter Tolstoy novel. But with Talia, what you saw is what you got. To my c she was soon on a first‐name basis with the clerks at the of no‐tell motels and roadside hostelries we frequented. T discretion was a word without meaning. "How's Nikki?" she asked. "And your daughter. How's S "We agreed not to talk about them, remember?"

"She's so cute."

Talia's interest and concern were genuine, She had hell on two occasions make support when my take from the my bonus after salary, was a little light. These were shoi loans, which at the time ‐I attributed to our relationship. N retrospect, I wonder whether they were so much for my ben Sarah's, for Talia possesses the universal maternal instinc lacks all capacity to harm small animals and children. "They're fine," I said.

She turned and noticed that I was staring wide‐eyed at hee the bed. "A penny for your thoughts," she said. "Is that A they're wortht' "Won't know 'til I hear them."

She was standing at the foot of the bed, a sh " ger her body, facing away from me, gazing ini e =r arranged her hair, long brunette locks in a mock bun high head. Her left foot was raised‐resting on the low stool it of the vanity, the muscles of her thigh flexed in an athletic The filigree of lace trimming the right leg was cut high hip and pulled into the crack of her buttocks. Her stance the erotic and distinct crease separating.her thigh from the hillock of her ass. I rerneinber the surge of desire. That is was, always, with Talia‐instant arousal. Moments after s every ounce of my manhood locked in her embrace myv ey again drawn to her long legs and tapered waist, the delica of hair at the nape of her neck. "Well?" she said. She was waiting for some deep some mirror into my inner being.."You really want to know what I'm thinking?" "I do," she said. "I'm thinking about jumping you one more, time before you can get out of this room." I strove for a little wickedness in my smile‐a touch of Jack Nicholson captured in the squint of my eyes.

Watching her there in the dim shadows of that room, I was a bundle of lust. She giggled. "Sorry, can't. Have to meet Benjamin." Talia insisted on using his full Christian name in their social circle. It was, at first, one of those things they cooed over in public. But as with so many older men with younger women, it had begun to go sour and now rubbed like a buff under his saddle whenever she called him by name. "He called me this morning before I left the office. Some dark, brooding secret," she said, her eyebrows arched in mock suspense. There was an instant knot in my stomach, the kind that accompanies dark prophecies.

"What did he wantt' I ask. "Who knows? You know Benjamin. If he's of a mind, he can breathe intrigue into last week's grocery list."

"Maybe we should discuss a little business," I said. "These are supposed to be business meetings."

But,instead of concern, I drew indifference from Talia. "You do remember? Business?" I said. "What if he asks what we've been doing twice a week for the past four months? Wants to know why we haven't finished putting the limited partnership together?"

In his own way, Ben had cast the die that 'led to this thing between Talia and me. He felt that she needed a little legal talent to lead her through the morass of fine print in a couple of real eftte transactions.

I knew little enough about real estate. But the duty fell to the junior associate, Ben's trusted protdgi. Talia held areal estate broker's license, but Ben made the deals, fed her the Commercial clients that kept her in business, that allowed her to Y her own pearls and run the Mercedes through a corporation Ben had set up in her name. "Don't be so uptight. Lighten up. Remember," she said, "you getting paid by the hour." Then she laughed. It fed some prurient fantasy in Talia, in the shell game that was r's system of accounting for my time with her, that at least the books I was pulling down $175 an hour. In one of my less fying performances when I peaked too early, when passion d a little too quickly, she sat frustrated at the edge of the me .,y bed, turned, looked at me: "You oughta be ash A 11. "billing in minimum increments of every six minutes." But on that day, as I lay in the bed watching her 4M@ furtive meeting with Talia had my full attention. I was irsl to be put off. "What are you gonna tell him if he asks?" I persisted. The vision of this woman in that moment is fixed in siv! like a cast bronze.

She stood there with this vacant stare. it‐she had nothing prepared.

Great, I thought, if Ben I't" with a question she's gonna wing it. After what seemed eternity, she looked at me, winked, and said: "I've got it.