“I think so … yes.”
“I want you think carefully. Could the man’s name have been Nathaniel – or Nat – Anderson?”
“I think it was – yes!”
So that was it! He had phoned them pretending to be Dorothy’s representative to get them to send her details! He wasn’t leaking information to the press or trying to sabotage their efforts. He was bending the rules in order to help them! He knew that the clinic wouldn’t release the information without some sort of authorization. So he phoned them and pretended to be Dorothy’s representative and asked them to fax over the information! She smiled with relief.
But why had he intercepted their fax? If it contained the information they needed then why not produce it?
She realized why. Because they hadn’t sent the information! They presumably sent a letter asking for signed papers from Dorothy herself. Or maybe they’d sent something else referring to Nat’s request. But whatever it was, it showed what Nat had done, without actually getting a result and he was afraid that he would get into trouble if she or Alex saw it. So instead he intercepted it to cover his tracks.
He probably hadn’t given up yet. If they had asked for a signed power of attorney from Dorothy, he would probably forge one. It was a risky strategy – too risky for Juanita to consider herself, let alone Alex – but she could understand a zealot like Nat doing it. She knew that she ought to stop him, for his sake as much as for high principle. But with Clayton’s scheduled execution less than five hours away, she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Maybe – just maybe – it would work.
She decided to call Alex right away to tell him that her original suspicions were unfounded. But she wouldn’t tell him her suspicion that Nat was going to forge a power of attorney. Prior knowledge might compromise Alex’s ethical and professional position.
19:41 PDT
Nat had waited nervously in case Juanita came back suddenly. There was something edgy about her that worried him; he feared that she might be onto him. He wanted to make a phone call, but he knew he had to be careful. She said she was going out for some fresh air, but how long would she be gone for? Five minutes? Ten? He couldn’t be sure and things had come so far now, it was too late to take a risk on things going wrong.
The phone rang. He answered it.
“Oh, hi, Nat. It’s David here.”
He heard a note of excitement in the voice.
“Hi, David. Before you ask, they’re both out.”
He said it with a nervous laugh. David picked up on it.
“That’s what I was afraid of. I don’t suppose you know where they are?”
“Well Juanita just went out for some fresh air and I think your father’s taken a detour to an arraignment.”
“Arraignment? Who? Why?”
“He got a call from a client. Lee Kelly. A burglary charge, I think.”
“Now? Couldn’t he have got you – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. But couldn’t he have unloaded it on another lawyer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well how are things going with Clayton Burrow?”
“We’re treading water right now.”
“Well look, I’ve got something else that may be of use.”
“Yes?”
“More of that poem.”
“Er … right.”
“I know it sounds silly Nat, but apart from the travel information and the payment to that health center this is the best I can do. And it does seem to contradict something my dad said earlier.”
“What exactly is it you’ve found?”
“I found a particular verse of the poem that really does remind me of Sylvia Plath’s poem ‘Daddy.’”
“Are you sure she wasn’t just plagiarizing?”
“I don’t think so. There are similarities, but differences too. The verse reads: ‘Daddy, I know I am guilty / Though someone killed you first / I killed you as surely as if / I had pulled the trigger myself / Bang Bang! All over.’”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“But how does that contradict what your dad told you?”
“Well my dad told me that Edgar Olsen killed himself. But here it’s as if she’s saying that she killed him.”
“Maybe it’s metaphorical?”
“Yes, but elsewhere she wrote a line that included the words ‘only when you died,’ and it would appear to be addressed to the same person. Also, I Googled the Plath poem. There’s a verse in it that starts with a remarkably similar line.”
“I can see the similarity of the poems. But what’s this got to do with Dorothy’s death?”
“Well I read in Wikipedia that Sylvia Plath committed suicide. I was wondering if this poem was Dorothy’s suicide note.”
“We already considered that. And you’ve already discovered evidence that she was alive long after she went to England?”
“Maybe it was a gradual decision. Maybe her depression built up to breaking point.”
“Look, David. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but we’ve considered all these possibilities. But it’s not just a question of coming up with theories. We’ve got less than four and a half hours to come up with evidence!”
“Okay, well maybe this poem isn’t evidence per se. But I was just wondering … how did Dorothy’s father die?”
There was silence at the other end.
“Nat?”
“I’m sorry. I was just trying to think.”
“You see what I mean. Is it possible that there was some sort of confrontation between them?”
“Yes, I see what you mean. I’ll pass it on to your father.”
“Okay, thank you.”
David rang off. Nat held the receiver in his hand. He wanted to make another call. He had to do it. His hand trembling, he started to key in the number.
20:02 PDT
Juanita had returned to the office and Nat had now left for the District Court. She knew that the TRO hearing would be starting very soon. Had Alex been able to make it? Or was he still tied up with that asshole Lee Kelly – leaving Nat to handle the stay hearing alone? She couldn’t understand why Alex made such a doormat of himself for such undeserving people as Kelly. Then again, was Clayton Burrow any more deserving?
The phone rang again.
“Alex Sedaka’s office.”
“Hi, Juanita, ” Alex said. “I’m waiting for Lee Kelly’s arraignment. But I have a feeling I’m going to be here for a while.”
“Can’t you unload it on one of those courthouse scavengers – as Lee called them?”
“I wish I could. But I already filed the form with the clerk.”
“So you’re the attorney of record.”
“Yeah.”
“Does that asshole Kelly understand we’ve got a life hanging in the balance?”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to him. He’s penned up with about forty other perps and they won’t let him out till it’s his turn.”
“What a crock of shit,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Listen, Juanita, I wanted to ask you something. Do you really think Nat was just playing fast and loose to get the medical center to ‘fess up with the info?”
“I think so.”
“And when you called them back, the nurse you spoke to before wasn’t there?”
“That’s right. She’s off duty.”
“Okay, well I guess that’s pretty much a dead end then.”
“Not exactly the best choice of words, but I’d say so.”
“Listen, there’s something else you can do for me. I need to know the exact date of Edgar Olsen’s suicide.”
“Why?”
“Well I’ve been thinking about some of the things Anita Morgan told me – as well as David’s theory about Edgar Olsen feeling guilty about Dorothy. I’m wondering if Dorothy came back and confronted him about the way he treated her.”
“You think he killed her to silence her?”
“It’s somet
hing to consider. On the other hand, in that poem David found, there’s something on the lines of ‘only when you died’ and then something else that suggests she’s writing it to her father. That suggests that he died before she vanished. So I need to check up the date of his death.”
“Why didn’t you ask Esther Olsen?”
“I should’ve, but I had too many things on my mind. And I don’t think we ought to bother her now.”
20:18
“Your Honor,” said Dawn Oxenberg, “whilst I would concede that counsel has presented some intriguing theories, it appears that evidence in support of said theories is still thin on the ground.”
She was responding to Nat’s brief presentation of the “new” evidence that supposedly called Clayton Burrow’s original murder conviction into question. This was the same District Court in which Alex had secured an ex parte TRO only to see it overturned a short while later.
“The bank statements that he has submitted are computer printouts, not on actual bank headed paper. They do not even purport to prove that she was alive at the time the physical evidence against Clayton Burrow was found: only that money was leaving her account up to four months before that.”
“But they do show that she had an account,” the judge interrupted, “and that it was in England.”
“Yes, if one accepts that they are genuine.”
“Would you not accept their provenance provisionally as a professional courtesy Ms Oxenberg?”
“I would if they were coming directly from a fellow member of the bar, Your Honor. However they were purportedly discovered by Mr. Sedaka’s son and they are now presented by Mr. Sedaka’s paralegal standing in for Mr. Sedaka, who is absent – despite the gravity of this case.”
“I’ve already explained the reason!” snapped Nat.
“I heard the reason, Your Honor,” Dawn Oxenberg replied, “and I find it quite surprising that an arraignment of a burglar takes priority over a last-minute new evidence hearing in a capital murder case. However, be that as it may, the fact is that the bank evidence is of unclear provenance and even if accepted has only limited exculpatory value. The same goes for the hearsay evidence from the medical center. It still allows a four month window of opportunity for the murder.”
“But it throws the whole prosecution theory into disarray,” said Nat, plaintively.
Sensing weakness in Nat’s tone, Dawn Oxenberg drew herself up to her full height, in a conscious attempt to intimidate her adversary.
“The case against Clayton Burrow was not based on a theory. It was based on evidence – and physical evidence at that. Not eyewitness testimony. Not a confession. But rigorous scientific evidence. And none of that evidence has been challenged, let alone disproved by the defense. They have not offered any evidence of alibi. They have not proven that there were any errors in the evidence. All they have shown – even if the Court accepts there evidence – is that the window of opportunity for the murder was only four months instead of seventeen months.”
The judge turned to Nat.
“How would you respond to that Mr. Anderson?”
“Well first of all it’s worth remembering that the prosecution evidence didn’t directly prove that Mr. Burrow had killed Dorothy Olsen. It established a probable link with her and suggested that she had been injured but not necessarily killed. But an intrinsic part of the prosecution case was that Miss Olsen had been missing for seventeen months and that this disappearance was not of her own volition. If it can be shown that for thirteen of those months, her disappearance was of her own volition, then that causes all the other elements of the case to be seen in a different light.”
“Ms. Oxenberg?” said the judge.
“The operative word there is if. Counsel has not proven that Miss Olsen’s disappearance was volitional. At most he has claimed the existence of evidence that might suggest this. But he hasn’t produced any such evidence. And the alleged evidence is at best indicative rather than conclusive.”
Nat looked at judge helplessly, trying to read his face… trying to find the right words.
20:24 PDT
Twenty minutes later, Alex was heading toward panic. He couldn’t wait here much longer. He was going to have to unload Lee Kelly’s case onto another lawyer whether he wanted to or not. It was just that, for reasons of his own, he didn’t want to.
He wondered if Juanita’s original suspicions about Nat were well-founded or just a sign of stress. She had never been one who was prone to imaginings. Then again, until today he had always trusted Nat. But with hindsight there were certain peculiarities in Nat’s behavior. Even the tenacity with which he had badgered his way into a two-bit law firm was curious in retrospect.
And even when Juanita retracted her suspicions, it was like she was holding something back. Was Nat still trying to get the information from the medical center by pretending to be the patient’s lawyer? Was Juanita now helping him? They were both determined to save Burrow if they could. They were both dedicated enough to commit such a desperate act.
“People v. Lee Kelly. Code 459, burglary. One count.”
Alex was shaken out of his musings as Lee Kelly was led out of the cage. Alex stepped forward and stood next to his client. They had literally ten seconds to communicate with each other before the judge – a fifty-something, African-American woman – addressed them.
“Is the defendant represented by counsel?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Alex Sedaka. I appear on behalf of the defendant.”
“Does the defendant wish to enter a plea at this time?”
“The defendant pleads not guilty and requests Release on Recognizance.”
The judge turned to the ADA, a woman in her early thirties.
“The defendant has eighteen priors and is a career criminal, Your Honor.”
“That’s over the course of thirty-seven years, Your Honor,” said Alex. “That’s less than one every two years.”
“You sound like you’re boasting on behalf of your client, Mr. Sedaka.” The judge turned to the prosecutor. “Is he a flight risk?”
The ADA looked down at her notes.
“He’s never jumped bail, Your Honor. But he is a career criminal and a recidivist offender. For this reason we oppose RoR. However, we’re ready to consider bail.”
“In what amount?”
“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Oh gimme a break!” Lee blurted out.
“You’re out of order, Mr. Kelly. You’ll address your remarks through your counsel. Keep your client in line, Mr. Sedaka.”
“I apologize, Your Honor.”
Lee nodded and mouthed his own apology to Alex.
“Does the defendant wish to propose a counter-figure?
“Yes, Your Honor. While we maintain that RoR is indicated in the present circumstances, our fallback position is that if bail must be set then, in the absence of a felony specification, it should be treated as misdemeanor burglary and bail set at five thousand dollars.”
“Your Honor,” the ADA chipped in, “there’s no way the People will consider misdemeanor burglary.”
“Okay, but that still leaves a choice between felony first and second.”
“We’re inclined to go for first, Your Honor – subject to discussions with defense counsel.”
This was just a bargaining tactic, to secure a plea. Setting bail high and threatening first degree burglary was just for added leverage. The ADA was inviting the judge to collude in the enterprise.
“Was it a domestic burglary?”
“That has yet to be determined, Your Honor.”
“Your Honor, my client has no priors for domestic burglary,” said Alex as the judge turned to him. Alex hadn’t even seen the case file, so he was whistling in the dark. “If it was domestic, it would be a first.”
The judge turned back to the ADA. She shook her head as if she had seen it all before. The judge looked quickly flipped through the bail schedule for the San Francisco district.
“In the absence of a charge-specification, bail is set in the amount of forty thousand dollars. Does the defense agree to waive the right to a speedy – ”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Okay, we’ll set the preliminary hearing at… October 10. Next case.”
They went to settle the paperwork with the payments clerk and Alex was in such a hurry to get to the Federal District Court for the hearing on the new evidence, that he paid the money on one of his own credit cards, rather than haggling with one of the bail bondsmen. Then he turned to a grateful looking Lee Kelly.
“Now I’ve got a little job for you,” said Alex as his phone rang.
20:43 PDT
Juanita was Googling “Edgar Olsen” and “suicide” in an effort to get the date of death.
“Gotcha!”
May 17, 1998.
The phone rang.
“Alex Sedaka’s office.”
“It’s me,” said Alex, sounding glum. “I just had a call from Nat.”
She felt the hope drain out of her.
“What happened?”
“They turned us down.”
“Did they give any reasons?”
“Res judicata, evidence claims not backed by certified documents, evidence fails to prove innocence or raise significant doubt.”
She was about to say something, but she couldn’t trust her voice to speak. Throughout the day she had kept her emotion at bay. She was a professional after all and this was just another case. But this was different. It was a capital case. A man’s life was in their hands … and they were failing him.
Yes, he may be guilty. But whatever his faults he was still a human being and… there were increasing signs that he was innocent. Juanita was about to speak, but again she felt the lump in her throat stopping her. For a second she thought that she could hold up. Then she broke down, sobbing into her forearms.
20:45 PDT
“How’d she take it?” asked Nat.
“As expected.”
You think you know me pretty well (an Alex Sedaka thriller) Page 21