The Prosecution of General Hastings
Page 15
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Through the glass wall, Sally saw Ted Garner, a junior associate who was working on this snowy Saturday, leading General Jack Hastings toward the conference room where they were meeting. As the two men approached she couldn’t help but notice the utter fatigue that was apparent in Hastings’ face and movements. He was wearing jeans with a button down dress shirt and the Navy blazer that she had seen him in at the Cattlemen’s Club. Though clean shaven, his eyes seemed watery and somewhat bloodshot. The man appeared both physically and emotionally exhausted.
Russell Byars greeted him at the door, speaking tenuously. “Come in, Jack, please. I believe you’ve met my partners. This is Jack Henson. And of course you know Sally…”
Both Sally and Henson rose to shake the man’s hand. Hastings’ hesitation to make eye contact betrayed the self confidence that had always been a part of his grand persona.
Hastings barely nodded, and said nothing when he shook Sally’s hand. “Hello, General,” she said.
“Welcome, General,” said Henson. “Please, sit down.”
“May I pour you some coffee?” Sally asked. She despised the man but he was clearly at a very low point.
Hastings acknowledged her sheepishly and softly answered, “Yes. Thank you, Sally. That would be very nice.”
Russell broke the ice. “General, I’ve related to Sally and Jack here what I know of last night. And that is simply that you were pulled over by the Police for a broken taillight, which led to them detaining you first for leaving the scene of an accident, then your possible involvement in the slaying of this Miss…” Russell fumbled with his notes, “Diana Ricci. I was able to secure your release this morning with the help of Judge Garvey.”
Hastings simply nodded his head confirming what Byars had said.
“Well, clearly there is much we don’t know.” Byars gave Hastings a moment to pick up the conversation. With nothing forthcoming, he continued, “Please, fill us in.”
Sally placed a small tray with a cup of coffee and some cream and sugar on the table and slid it across to the general. He looked up and nodded his thanks. He took the cup from the tray, ignoring the condiments.
Hastings drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He leaned back in the plush conference chair and took a moment, gazing out the window. He seemed to steel himself for what he needed to say.
“First of all,” he began, “let me say how profoundly embarrassing this is.” He looked at Byars, then at Henson. He did not look at Sally. “I had nothing to do with Diana Ricci’s death. I did know her, yes. I went to her apartment to pick up my laptop which I had left there yesterday afternoon, or, evening, I guess. When she didn’t answer the door, I used a key that she had given me to get inside.” He stopped. He looked down at nothing on the table. He slowly shook his head. “The place was a slaughterhouse. There was blood all over everything… the walls, the furniture… the carpet. She was lying in… Geez, it was just a mess. And it looked like it had just happened.”
“Did you know she was dead?” Henson asked. “I mean, could she have still been alive at that moment?”
“Her head was almost completely severed from her body. And there was just blood everywhere,” Hastings answered. He looked over at Henson, “There was no doubt that she was dead.”
“Go on, please,” prodded Byars.
“I panicked. I saw my laptop on her kitchen table where I had left it. I just grabbed it and ran,” he said. Again, he looked down at the table and shook his head from side to side. “So foolish,” he said.
“Why did you run, General?” It was Sally who asked.
He seemed to gather some grit and looked at her somewhat sullenly. “Obviously I was in a place where I shouldn’t have been,” he said. He looked back down at the table. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“So, I assume that you had some kind of… relationship with this woman?” asked Byars.
“Yes. I did.” He paused a moment. “Ironically, I went there to get my belongings and leave her key. I had already broken things off with her earlier yesterday.”
“Was she the woman I saw you with at the bar upstairs?” asked Sally.
“Yes,” he answered. “That little scene she made was her response to my telling her I was ending the affair.”
“What scene?” asked Henson.
“She threw her drink in my face and called me a son-of-a-bitch… loud enough for all the world to hear. Then she stormed out.” He paused. “I knew she wasn’t going to be happy. But I didn’t expect that.”
The three attorneys sat quietly for a moment, thinking about his story.
“So,” Byars continued, “in a nutshell… you were having an affair with this woman. You broke it off. Someone else killed her and you happened onto the scene in time to be blamed for it.”
“That’s exactly what happened,” Hastings said.
“Can you think of any reason someone would kill Diana Ricci?” asked Sally. “Robbery, maybe?.”
“The Police have ruled out robbery as a motive,” said Byars. “I did learn that much this morning.”
“I’ve been racking my brain all night long with that same question,” Hastings answered. “I don’t know of anyone who would want her dead.”
“Can you think of anyone who would benefit from her death?” asked Henson. “Is there any financial gain for someone with her out of the picture? Ownership of any property? Job advancement? Anything at all that you can think of?”
“She really didn’t have anything. She was divorced and had been for twenty years, or so. She was a secretary. I can’t think of anything someone would gain by her death,” said Hastings.
“Any old boyfriends? Anyone who could have been jealous?” asked Henson.
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, somebody has to ask the hard question and it might as well be me,” said Byars. “Was your wife aware of this affair? Could she have wanted this woman out of the picture?”
“Jana doesn’t have a violent bone in her body. That’s out of the question,” answered Hastings.
“How is she taking this?” asked Sally.
Hastings looked over at Sally with piercing eyes. He remembered the Sally Wilcox of 1995. “Not well,” he said. “Hmph. That’s an understatement. Let’s just say that my marriage will probably not survive this, regardless of the legal outcome.” He looked back at Byars. “That’s why I left the apartment without calling the Police.”
Again, the room fell silent.
Byars finally spoke. “Well, Jack, we’re assigning Sally here to handle your defense.” Sally’s mouth dropped and she turned to face Byars. “She’s the best litigator we’ve got. And I won’t kid you… you’re going to need it. The preliminary information I got this morning is that the coroner has pegged the time of death to be almost exactly the time that you were there. When you hit those two parked cars leaving the scene, a witness called the Police immediately. The time of that call matches the coroner’s estimate.”
“What are my chances?” he asked.
When no one else spoke, Henson answered. “All of their evidence appears to be circumstantial. But we can’t deny that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unless some crackerjack detective or an investigator can solve this crime with the real killer, you may be looking at plea bargaining to a lesser charge.”
Hastings sprung from his chair, “Bullshit,” he bellowed. “That means decades in jail. Is that what you’re telling me, Jack? That’s the best you guys have to offer? Maybe I should look for another lawyer.”
Time seemed to stand still. Then, Henson’s natural demeanor was on full display. He slowly swiveled his chair around to face Hastings. “You may,” he said. He looked directly at Hastings. Without breaking eye contact, Henson leaned back, almost falling out of his chair, and took the yellow phone directory from the credenza behind him. He tossed it across the table at Hastings. It landed on the conference table with a loud thud… “Here ya go, Chief…have at it.”
Realizing that his outburst was pointless and misguided, Hastings sat back down, almost in tears. “I apologize… I’m sorry… I need your help and I know it. I’m just frustrated and exhausted.”
“That’s understandable,” said Byars, standing. “Is there anything else you can tell us right now that might be of help?”
“No. Nothing that I can think of. I just need some rest.” Any energy that Jack Hastings had been able to muster was now spent.
“I think we’ve done all we can do right now,” said Sally. “I will need the police report to see what they’ve got. I’ll also find out who is going to prosecute the case and touch base there. So, we’ve got work to do.” She looked over at Hastings. “Where can I contact you?” she asked.
“I’ll be staying at the Prairie Plaza,” he answered. Jana has already left. She’s gone back to the ranch in Lawton. You’ve got my cell.”
“Fine,” she said. “I think we should meet again on Monday afternoon. But I’ll get back to you to confirm it. We will get the information we need before then. I’m sure we’ll have questions for you.”
Byars looked at Hastings. In a serious tone he said, “Jack, we were able to gain your release by signing for you. Judge Garvey made no bones about our firm’s being responsible. I trust you will respect our commitment.”
“Of course, Russell,” Hastings replied testily. “That needn’t be said.”
“General, less than twenty-four hours ago I wouldn’t have made that statement.”
Hastings absorbed the meaning of Byars’ remark. “Point taken,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”