“Hogan was waiting for her when she turned onto the road that led to the Levine home. It was on an unlit side street, only their home on the dead-end street. She had her automobile parked in the middle of the road, blocking it. I’m reciting directly from her testimony,” Beardsly inserted. Milton nodded. “She then leaned against her car, pretending to be sick. Mrs. Levine stepped out to see what was going on, and Hogan shot her point-blank twice in the chest.”
“How familiar a scenario,” Milton said. “Quite classic, actually. Those wishing to do harm to others usually rely on the goodness the others possess. I think there are as many scams exploiting human kindness as there are stars in the night sky. I just love it when Good Samaritans turn out to be the ones who suffer. Thank God for the weaknesses he created in them.”
“Them?”
“Humanity, Tom. Don’t try to be a lawyer. Go on. I assume Judge Levine found his wife’s body soon after?”
“Yes. He was concerned when she was so late. He called the police first to see if there were any accidents reported in the vicinity between the hospital and his home.”
“Rather brilliant, laying the foundation for innocence, but after all, he’s a judge. If anyone should know how to do it, it would be he.”
“A patrol car nearby was directed to his street, and the officer found his wife’s car and her dead body. A forensics team was on the scene quickly. They found Etta Hogan’s tire tracks. She had gone off the road to turn around.”
“Ah.”
“Levine then cooperated with the police and claimed Hogan had become a stalker who wouldn’t accept the end of their affair. As I said, he took on blame for having the affair. Became quite emotional about it, breaking down and blaming himself.”
“Beating his chest quite convincingly, I imagine.”
“They found the weapon in Hogan’s car.”
“And the jewelry and watches?”
“Still on his wife’s body, which strengthened Levine’s version of things. Hogan claimed he was supposed to walk down to the scene of the murder and take the jewelry off his wife’s body to make it look like a robbery, but apparently, if we’re to believe Hogan, after she left, he didn’t take the jewelry, thus framing her.”
“That is brilliant,” Milton said. Beardsly paused and stared at him. The man really did look as if he appreciated what the judge had done. Milton continued, “So Etta left thinking he had provided the police with the theory that it was just a robbery. He really sold her on the plan. She must actually have been in love with him. Fascinating. Sorry. Go on, Tom.”
“Levine gave the police all the information they needed to convict her as a rejected lover, but Michele Armstrong didn’t buy it, his innocence. He was in line now to inherit his wife’s estate, which she inherited from her father.”
“Greed. It’s such a reliable motive,” Milton said. “But kudos to Michele Armstrong for being suspicious. She has good instincts. Too good, maybe. And?”
“Hogan fired back immediately when she realized she was taking the full fall. She agreed to be a prosecution witness and turned over some gifts the judge had given her, a note he had written to set up a rendezvous.”
“But our judge had already admitted to the affair?”
“He did so then. He hired a defense attorney from Goshen, Gerald Orman, one of the best in the region, who was actually a friend of Michele Armstrong’s father.”
“I know of him. He’s good but not good enough for any firm I’ll have.”
“Armstrong went on a relentless pursuit of the weapon’s history, tracking it back to a petty thief fifteen years prior who was convicted of possessing an illegally obtained pistol. The pistol was missing from the police archives. Levine, by the way, sentenced him to five years.”
“How deliciously ironic—or maybe not.”
“Maybe not? That would be one hell of a plan that far in advance of it all.”
“Some destinies are written in indelible ink, Tom. Still, locating the origin of the weapon and the fact that it was missing surely wasn’t enough to get past reasonable doubt.”
“Armstrong knew that. She was smart. The pistol had only Hogan’s prints on it. That was suspicious. Why wipe the pistol clean first? But Judge Levine wasn’t up on forensics, or he was a bit sloppy about it. Remember, he took her for those shooting lessons.”
“Someone saw them on the range?”
“No. It’s one of those areas out in the country where pistol practice is permitted. They only went a few times, anyway, I believe. No one saw them there.”
“And so . . . what’s the second shoe that dropped?”
Beardsly smiled. He couldn’t help it. It brought back memories of cases he had helped solve when he was a top agent. “He put the bullets into the gun for Hogan, and she didn’t use them all. His print was on four bullets. As I said, Armstrong was relentless and always suspicious.”
“The main characteristic of a good prosecutor. Brilliant pursuit.”
“From what I was told, she had a way of pushing the investigators,” Beardsly said. “Initially, the case looked so slam-dunk. You know what happens when it comes to investigators and a shortcut.”
“Sloth kicks in. I am so grateful for the lazy and uninspired in important places, especially law enforcement. It gives my clients an edge. Excellent work, Tom. I’ll have more for you to do in the near future,” Milton added. “We’re just beginning what will be a mutually profitable relationship. In many ways, I promise.”
He leaned forward and tapped on the window. Charon opened the door and handed Beardsly an envelope. Beardsly opened it and did a quick visual count of the hundreds. There was more than he had been promised. He looked up, surprised.
“A little bonus,” Milton said. “Enjoy it. Get greedy. You’ll work harder for me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly rolling in it these days.”
“You will be,” Milton said.
Charon held the door open and stepped back. Beardsly reached out to shake Milton’s hand. Milton looked at his hand as if he had to inspect it first for germs or something. Then he seized it so quickly and held it so hard that Beardsly winced. He didn’t want to show fear or pain, so he didn’t move or speak. Milton turned his hand around in his and, with his other hand, stroked the top of Beardsly’s hand as though it was unique, the hand of a famous artist or pianist.
“ ‘What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculty . . . in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god’!” He smiled. “Don’t look so amazed, my friend. You must constantly remind yourself that you are the ‘paragon of animals.’ ”
Milton laughed and let him go. Beardsly’s hand stung, but he said nothing. He just nodded and stepped out. Milton leaned over to look out at him.
“I don’t know what the hell you said,” Beardsly murmured.
“I was quoting from Hamlet. Didn’t you pay attention in literature class?”
“I was absent that day,” Beardsly said, and Milton laughed.
“I like you, Tom. You’re a man after my own heart. We’ll know each other a long, long time, I’m sure,” he added, and sat back.
Charon closed the door and then went around to get into the limousine.
“We have some real competition this time, Charon,” John Milton said angrily when Charon returned to the driver’s seat. Milton’s mood changed instantly, and just as instantly, however, it changed back. He smiled. “Someday I hope she’ll come to work for us. It’s not out of the question, you know.”
Charon knew, but he didn’t say anything. Milton looked at his watch.
“To the hoosegow,” he ordered. “I have to see my new client. I have work to do, but when don’t I, huh? The purpose is to develop my new army to do all this for me. I’m tired of being an instigator, whispering in people’s ears, urging them to break their covenant with you-know-who. How can I lose, though? He promises them eternal bliss in some ethereal paradise only he appreciates, Charon. I
offer them all the pleasure and contentment here, where they can see, feel, taste. Do you think he’s just stupid? Or is it arrogance? I’m supposed to be the one with arrogance.”
He knew he was ranting, but sometimes he couldn’t help himself. Actually, he rather liked the sound of his own voice. That was why he was so good in court, especially at summations.
“Oh, I’m not flawed because of that, Charon. Don’t for a moment believe it. The only thing wrong with me is . . . there is nothing wrong with me.” He laughed.
Charon didn’t make a sound.
Milton grimaced. “I think I need someone again, Charon, another companion. I shouldn’t be the only one who appreciates me, now, should I?” He answered himself. “No.” He looked out the window. “No. I need something more. I always will. Maybe that’s the curse I bear, but it’s not a bad one.
“Look at all the brilliant things I’m saying. It’s wasted on you, Charon. It’s like screaming into the Grand Canyon. I hate echoes. I never liked anything that came back at me.”
He sat back and sulked for a moment. It was times like this when he wondered if this world was worth it.
He was always driven by one deep fear. What if God retreated? It was just as easy for God to start somewhere new. What if he decided they weren’t worth it after all and left the battlefield? Milton would be left with a world of sinners. That was like a great artist doing a great painting with only blind people to show it to or like a great actor doing an award-winning performance for an empty theater.
Or worse yet, a lawyer making a great summation to a jury of the deaf.
Stop worrying, he told himself, as he watched a young boy helping an elderly lady cross the street. He’s given them just enough conscience to make my work difficult. He’s too confident to give up. He’s got the bigger ego.
“We’re fine, Charon,” he said, as if he had been having this debate out loud. It didn’t matter. Charon heard his thoughts. “Beardsly’s report has given me a wonderful concept for my defense. I wonder if Ms. Armstrong will realize it.”
At the next red light, Charon turned and smiled, even though it looked as if doing so might shatter his face.
“You think she will. Yes. She’ll come to appreciate me. I’ll be quite fascinating to her and confusing, too. Oh, her ego might hold her back, but eventually, it will turn. I’m confident. Besides, it’s something new and wonderful to live for, Charon. I think she might be my best prize in decades. And the son that we have together will be my best prince in centuries.”
His laughter seemed to propel the vehicle forward into traffic, where he could mingle easily with the masses.
14
Lester Heckett was frightened, and his fear exhausted him. He wasn’t sleeping, he was eating poorly, and worst of all, he felt as if he had aged years in only months. Places ached in his body that had never ached. There were dark rings deepening under his eyes. He was sickly pale, and for no reason at all, he would suddenly break into a shiver. I look as guilty as hell, he told himself. Forget the presumption of innocence. The jury will convict me the moment they see me. There doesn’t even have to be a trial. I have no chance.
He looked up from his clasped hands as his new attorney stepped into the conference room. Something about him was terribly familiar, and for the first few moments, Lester raked his memory to remember where he had met him or seen him. Unlike Warner Murphy, John Milton did not look all business. He was quite relaxed and smiled as if they were meeting at a bar to enjoy a close friendship, interesting gossip and jokes. He was just as impeccably dressed and, if anything, was a better-looking man, but Lester had assumed he’d be older, too. He hoped the firm, believing he was a lost cause, especially now that his lawyer was dead, wasn’t throwing some newcomer at him simply to build some experience.
“Sometimes my clients remind me of expectant fathers,” Milton said, still standing and looking down at him. “They have that same worried expression you now wear like a mask. Will their wives survive? Will the babies be born healthy? That sort of thing. Of course, my clients are wondering if they’ll survive, not their children. Fear not,” he added, finally sitting across from him. “You will. I am John Milton.” He extended his hand and clasped Lester’s. He was handcuffed to the table, so he didn’t have much leeway to move. Milton nodded at the cuffs and shook his head. “We’re so intent on chaining everyone to something in this country now, either to protect ourselves or help ourselves seem more powerful. Nothing like enslaving others, eh?” He laughed, but Lester just stared at him.
How can he be so lighthearted? He acts as if this is nothing more than a parking ticket, Heckett thought.
“So, I’ve read Warner Murphy’s file and studied the evidence against you.”
“Did they find out what happened to Murphy?” Lester asked instantly. He was like someone in a coma who had heard something that triggered consciousness.
Milton smiled and shook his head slowly. “You’re worried about him now? You should be worrying only about yourself, Lester. He’s dead. What happened was he leaped off his patio and badly damaged a Mercedes S-class twenty flights below.”
“Why?”
“Maybe he thought he’d lose your case, Lester. You don’t mind my calling you Lester, do you, Lester?”
“No. Am I going to lose my case?”
“Now you’re thinking properly, Lester. Concentrate on yourself. No, you’re not going to lose, or, more appropriately, I’m not going to lose. I don’t lose.”
“That’s what I was told, although you look kind of young for the story they gave me,” Lester said, his skepticism practically streaking out of his eyes.
Milton smiled. “I’m not as young as I look. I take good care of myself, and I have good genes. My father is actually still alive, although we haven’t had a conversation for what seems like a few millennia. You never got along that well with your father, either, as I understand it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, I do my research, Lester. I don’t like being surprised, especially by prosecutors. I just love wiping gleeful smiles off their faces.”
“Is it true? You’ve never lost a case?”
“Not really. I made some compromises that pleased the prosecution in the past, but in the end, I was pleased more, and so were my clients. I mean, if you’re caught red-handed, it’s not easy getting you acquitted; although I did have two cases where eyewitnesses were so discounted the client walked.
“Now,” Milton continued, finally letting go of Lester’s hand so he could open his briefcase and take out a small packet of papers. Lester hadn’t realized he was holding on to Milton like someone holding on for dear life. Milton didn’t seem to mind. “There is an eyewitness to neutralize, and I think you can help me do it very effectively. If you’re honest, that is, about everything.”
Lester squinted. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I exaggerate a little when I say everything. I don’t need you to be too honest. Remember, I’m an officer of the court. I have an absolute ethical duty to the judges to tell the truth.” He smiled again. It was more as if his eyes twinkled. “I just have the skill and talent to pick and choose the right truths to tell. Anyone trying to survive in this world has to do that, Lester, and goodness knows, you’re trying to survive.”
“How come you’re so . . .”
“Happy to defend you?”
“Yes.”
“I love a real challenge, and you present one.” He leaned in to whisper. “To be completely honest on my end, Lester, I don’t believe Warner Murphy would have won your case or even compromised on a plea that would have satisfied you. He would have disappointed us both. He had reached that point where he was more interested in building his own career. Lawyers like that are more willing to make unsatisfactory compromises. But don’t misunderstand me. I take interest in the success of other defense attorneys. Don’t look so surprised. I love my work. You lucked out getting me. I promise.”
For a moment, Les
ter was speechless. He rarely had seen such unmitigated arrogance. It brought a smile to his face. “From the way you’re putting it, I should be happy Warner Murphy leaped off a patio?”
“So happy that you might as well have been the one to help him over. You know, like telling him, ‘Do me a favor and drop dead.’ Quite a drop, I’ll admit.”
“That’s cold.”
“Fighting to survive sucks all the warmth of human kindness out of you, Lester. Even Adam was betrayed by Eve. You know the story. She made me do it. Women have had men wrapped up tightly and neatly ever since. Well, maybe not the world over but close. I know you agree. Actually, I could have defended Adam successfully, if the judge would have permitted it. I would have pointed out that there were extenuating circumstances, what today we call entrapment.”
Lester shook his head. What the hell was this new attorney talking about? Who cared about Adam and Eve? “I understand you don’t think we need a postponement,” he said.
“No. I know the case inside and out, as if I had been there from the start.”
“How can that be?”
“We ask ourselves that question about so many things, Lester. Trust me. I know all I have to know to defend you successfully.”
Lester wanted to believe him. He took a deep breath. What choice did he have, really? “Well, what do we do now?”
“We talk. We get to know each other, but most important, we get to develop your defense together. It takes teamwork, Lester. You’re as important to all this as I am. They’ll be looking at you as much as they look at me. Well, maybe not quite as much but enough to make a difference. I want you to spruce up, get the defeated look out of your face. Shave, eat, exercise, and show them you love life, love it so much you wouldn’t want to take it away from anyone, least of all a good friend and a partner. Understand?”
Judgement Day Page 13