"The judge said he could be mistaken, but judge Kuffel had phoned him during a break in our trial and he thought Kuffel said that my young associate had appeared at the arraignment for Mr. Harmon. That isn't true, is it, Peter?"
"Well, uh, yes it is. I mean, the judge is right. But you don't have to worry. This isn't a court appointment. The Harnions are going to pay us one hundred thousand dollars and expenses."
Peter held his breath as he waited for Geary to absorb the amount of the fee. Peter assumed that one hundred thousand dollars would allay any qualms his boss might have. There was silence on the line for a moment. When Geary spoke again, he sounded as if he was fighting to keep himself under control.
"Peter, I want you to call Jesse Harmon and tell him you made a mistake when you accepted his son's case without consulting me. Then, you march down to judge Kuffel's office and resign as quickly as you can. First thing in the morning is fine, but tonight would be better, if you can catch him in. You might want to call as soon as I hang up."
"But, Mr. Geary "No buts, Peter. You and this office are off the Harmon case as of now. Do you understand me?"
"Well, no, I don't understand. How much do we make on one of your crummy court appointments?
What, a few hundred bucks? I just brought in a one-hundred-thousand-dollar fee and you're acting like I did something wrong."
"You did do something wrong, Peter," Geary said in a tone that had Peter picturing swelling blood vessels and tightly clenched teeth. "First, you took this case without consulting me, your boss.
"Second, our firm has a contract to represent indigent defendants in three counties. A contract is a binding promise between two or more parties to undertake particular tasks. In order to honor my part of the contract I need to have you available to represent the indigent accused, no matter how crummy they may be. You will not be available if you are in court on one case for two to four months.
"Third, and most important, this is not some shoplifting case. If you fuck up, Gary Harmon will have lethal chemicals injected into his veins. And you will fuck up, Peter, because you are a fuck-up. Did you forget that your father exiled you to this intellectual Devil's Island because of your gross incompetence? Are you so shallow that you want to compound your felony by risking Gary Harmon's life for money?"
"I resent the implications that I took this case for the money," Peter said indignantly.
"I don't give a shit what you resent," Geary shouted.
"You either march down to the courthouse and resign the minute I hang up or clear out of your office."
The line went dead. Peter's hand was shaking. He hung up and slumped in his chair. What was he going to do? If he didn't resign from Gary's case, his last chance to get back in his father's good graces would be gone. But if he did resign, a golden opportunity to make a name for himself on his own would disappear. A chance like this might never come his way again.
Peter had rationalized his banishment to this dust bowl as a temporary inconvenience. He always believed that his father would welcome him back after he had done his penance as a low-paid advocate of the indigent accused.
What Peter pondered long and hard was his father's reaction to a call from Amos Geary telling him that Peter had lasted barely two months before he had to can him.
Before Elliot, Peter would never have believed his father would punish him for anything he did. When he was suspended from high school after tearing up the football field with his jeep in a drunken frenzy, Richard paid for the damage and somehow kept the suspension off his record. When there was that unfortunate prob I in lem with the sorority girl i college, Richard fumed and hollered, then paid for the abortion. And what about law school? To this day, Peter had no idea how he would have gained admission with his grades, if Richard had not stepped in. That was why it had been such a shock when his father lowered the boom after his fiasco in E hot and it was the reason why he could not dismiss the possibility that Richard would cast him out forever if he failed him again.
The thought of quitting Geary's firm made Peter feel like a kid getting ready to make a high dive for the first time. He could edge back along the board to safety by dropping Gary Harmon or he could take a frightening plunge into the unknown by staying on the case. Was he willing to trade his freedom for security? Did he want to stay a child his whole life, totally dependent on his father, or did he want to become a man who could stand on his own two feet?
Then, Peter remembered Steve Mancini's advice.
"Fuck Amos Geary," Mancini had said. Mancini was right. With one hundred thousand dollars he could say "Fuck you" to a lot of people. And there was the partnership waiting. When Peter thought about it, the choice wasn't all that hard.
"What are you going to do?" Steve Mancini asked as soon as Peter finished his account of his phone conversation with Amos Geary. They were seated on the couch in Mancini's living room. Police reports and tape cassettes were stacked next to a tape recorder in front of them on the coffee table. Donna was in the kitchen brewing coffee and slicing a coffee cake.
"I know what I'd like to do, but I have one huge practical problem. If I stay on as Gary's lawyer, I've got to clear out of my office."
"That's no problem, at all. I have an extra office at my place you can rent. You'd have a receptionist and you can pay one of my secretaries by the hour to type your stuff. My place is a hell of a lot nicer than Geary's mausoleum. What do you say?"
"Are you still serious about going into partnership?"
"You bet. Of course, we can't do it right now, because I've got to get Mountain View squared away and you've got Gary's case to try."
"Right."
"But I'm definitely interested."
"That's terrific, because I think it could work."
"Okay. So, we'll talk."
Peter shook Steve's hand and smiled bravely, but his insides were churning with fear.
"Now that we've got that settled, let's get to work," Steve said.
"I want you to read this report." Peter handed a thick, stapled stack of paper to Mancini. "It's a summary of Downes's interrogation. Then I want you to listen to sections of these tapes. The whole interrogation is about seven hours. I only had time to listen to two tapes, but the parts I'm going to play will give you some idea of what's going on."
Donna came out of the kitchen carrying a tray shortly after Peter started playing the tapes. She gave Peter and her husband cups of coffee and a slice of cake. Then, she sat on the co next to Steve and listened as Dennis Downes explained to Gary the marvelous powers he possessed.
"Are Gary's statements the reason he was arrested?" Donna asked Peter when the tapes were finished.
"They're a big part of it."
"But that's so unfair. Gary thought he was being a detective. He thought he was helping Downes. Gary wouldn't understand that Downes was fooling him.
No jury is going to believe that what Gary said was a confession."
"It would if Gary knows something that only the killer could know," Mancini said, "and I'm betting that somewhere on these tapes is something like that."
"Keeping Gary's statement out of evidence is definitely the key to winning the case," Peter said. "The question is how to do it."
"Doesn't the fact that Downes lied to Gary mean anything?" Donna asked.
"I seem to remember reading some cases in law school that held that a confession that is elicited by deceit won't hold up," Peter said.
"Maybe I can help find them," Donna volunteered.
"When I was studying to be a legal secretary I took a course on how to do legal research. Mr. Willoughby lets me do research for him, every once in a while."
"I can use all the help I can get," Peter said.
Mancini frowned. "When would you fit it in, honey?
You're pretty busy at work."
"I could do the research after work or on the weekend. Please, Steve. I want to do something more to help Gary than make coffee."
"Well ... I guess if it's okay with Pete Donna leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek. Then, she stood up.
"I'll let you two get back to work while I clean up.
Holler if you need anything. And, Peter, let me know what you want me to do."
Donna almost skipped out of the room. There was a big smile on her face.
"You did okay, Steve. Donna's terrific."
"Why thanks," Mancini answered with a self-satisfied smile. "One thing, though. Don't count on Donna for much help. She's a good legal secretary, but legal research .. . ?" Mancini flashed Peter a patronizing smile. "Still, if you can find a make-work project for her, she'll be happy as a clam."
"She seems pretty sharp to me," Peter said, surprised to hear his friend put down his wife. "Let's see what she can do."
"Sure," Mancini said. He took a sip of coffee. "Let's get back to the confession. We should make a list of possible attacks on it. I noticed that Don Bosco observed a lot of the questioning. Why don't I talk to him and see what he has to say about it."
"Good idea."
"I'll do it first thing in the morning."
"I'm going to need a good investigator. Can you suggest someone?ll "There aren't many in this area. Ralph Cotton is pretty good. He does some wa.rk for the Sissler firm.
And Mike Compton does some investigation."
Mancini thought for a moment. "You know, there's a guy I've used, Barney Pullen. He works as a mechanic a t his brother's garage, but he used to be a cop. You might check to see if he's available."
Peter jotted down the names Steve had given him.
Then, he said, "There are a few other things we have to go over. Becky included a police report about the peeping incident. Another report mentions some pornographic magazines that were found in the closet in Gary's bedroom. I think Becky is going to try and have the porno stuff and evidence of the peeping incident admitted. What can we do about that?"
"We have to file a motion to keep that out. The jurors are going to believe Gary's a pervert if they hear it."
"I agree. Why don't I concentrate on this issue."
"Okay.
"There's something else," Peter said.
Mancini noticed a change in Peter's voice. Whatever this new thing was, it had Peter worried.
"What's the problem?"
Peter handed Mancini a stack of police reports.
"I'm hoping these reports are in here by mistake. If they're not, Gary may be in big trouble."
Mancini skimmed the first report. His features clouded.
"Did Becky mention anything about this?"
"No.
Mancini laid the stack of reports on his desk.
"She can't think Gary was also involved in these cases."
"She must. Why would she give me police reports about the murders of two other women if she didn't think Gary committed them?"
Chapter FOURTEEN.
The prisoners in the Whitaker jail were allowed an hour a day to exercise in the yard. Gary waited for that hour like a marooned sailor longing for rescue. Inside, the jail was musty gray and the air was heavy. Outside, there with reminders was the sun, birds in flight and air sweet of the way his life used to be. This afternoon, Gary leaned against the chain-link fence and watched several prisoners pumping iron on the far side of the yard.
Gary wanted to lift weights, but he was afraid to go near them. Besides, he wasn't feeling so good. The meeting with Peter Hale had left him confused. Peter said he did not have supernatural powers, but he was certain he did.
If he didn't have those powers, how did he know so much about the murder?
How had he seen Sandra Whiley die?
"Hey, Gary?" a familiar voice said. Gary turned around and saw Kevin Booth. Booth was sweating and of stand still. He had been using so many he couldn drugs that his system was having trouble adjusting to the deprivations jail imposed. Gary did not notice. All he knew was that he finally had a friend to talk to.
"Hi, Kevin! Are you arrested too?"
"Yeah. I got busted a few days ago."
"What did you do?" Gary asked with concern.
"I fucked up, big time. Federal stuff."
Booth's shoulders twitched a little.
"I don't like it here," Gary confided.
"Why is that?"
"Some of the men pick on me. They say mean things."
"You've got to learn how to deal with those motherfuckers," Booth responded with false bravado. He wanted Gary to think he was not afraid of being in jail, but he had barely slept during the short stint he had spent when he was arrested at Whitaker State and last night had been hell. "If anyone messes with you, you mess them up first or you won't get any respect."
"My mom says I shouldn't fight," Gary said nervously.
"Yeah? Well, your mom isn't in jail."
just as he said this, Booth noticed Rafael Vargas sitting in the bleachers near the body builders. Not far away, his bodyguard, Carlos Rivera, was completing a set of curls with weights that were the size of car tires.
Every time he brought the bar to his chest, his body would swell up like a balloon. Booth felt his bowels loosen and he looked away quickly.
"So, man," Booth said, moving so Gary's body blocked Vargas's view of him, "I read about you. You're a fuckin' media star. Front page! Murder!
That's heavy."
"I didn't do anything to that girl," Gary assured his friend. "I just seen it."
"Seen what?"
"My lawyer doesn't want me to talk about the case to anyone."
An idea suddenly occurred to Booth. He shot a quick look at Vargas. When he turned back to Gary, he was wearing an ingratiating smile.
"Hey, Gary, this is me. We've been buddies since high school. What do you think I'm gonna do, rat you out?"
"Oh no," Gary said, coloring with embarrassment.
"Your lawyers probably don't want you talking to someone you don't know. Now, that makes sense. But I'm your friend, right?"
"Oh, sure," Gary agreed.
"So, what gives?"
Gary hesitated. Peter was emphatic about not talking to anyone about his case. He said that some people in jail would tell the D.A. he had confessed to them so they could get a deal on their own case. Then, they would testify against him in court and tell lies. Peter had warned him to look out for those men, but he couldn't have meant Kevin. Peter probably meant he shouldn't talk to strangers, like Mom had always warned him.