When Men Betray

by Webb Hubbell

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  Some of the color had returned to Woody’s face. He gave me a ghost of a smile. “Please be careful.”

  The guard banged on the door. “Time’s up.” He barged in, put the leg irons back on Woody, and led him away.

  It had all happened so fast; I wasn’t quite sure what I had agreed to do or what was coming next. But I knew one thing—like the June Carter song says, “Time’s a wastin’.”

  23

  APPARENTLY, THE DEPUTY prosecuting attorney had told Sam that I had something for him, because he was pacing outside the door of the interview room. He was wearing a jogging outfit and running shoes that had seen better days.

  “I thought I told you to go home.”

  I was in no mood for his temper. “You’ll get your wish soon enough. Sorry to delay your run, but I thought you’d want this.” I handed him the large envelope that contained the note, the key, and the contents of the locker.

  He opened the envelope impatiently. The key fell to the floor. “What’s this?” he asked, as he picked it up.

  “The key is to a locker at the train station. Helen found that and the note in her kitchen the morning of the shooting. I read the note, wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I had it copied and I’m delivering the original and the key to you. The DVD and the figurine were in the locker.”

  Sam read the note and frowned. “The note looks like a bunch of gibberish. It makes no sense. I assume you’re giving it to me because you think you can prove Woody’s crazy?”

  I remained silent.

  “Just tell me what the goddamn note means, Jack.”

  “I honestly don’t know. I haven’t had time to research Goldsmith.”

  “Don’t get cute. You just spent an hour with Woody, and you’re telling me you don’t know what it means?”

  “I have no fucking idea what it means.”

  “What about the locker contents? Jerry Maguire and this little, uh, statue.”

  “Same answer.”

  “Right, sure. Why get me down here for this crap?”

  I was hot and getting hotter by the minute. “I didn’t get you down here. I told your deputy I’d give it to you tomorrow. I assume you haven’t found Woody’s computer or his file cabinet and you’ve figured out that it wasn’t the state troopers who took them. So surely you get why I wasn’t about to turn this over to a stranger.”

  We both paused, unsure how to proceed and afraid to go too far. Sam blew out air and relented. “Okay, you’re right—either the troopers are playing games, or someone else wanted what Woody had on his computer. I don’t know who yet, but I’m going to find out. I’m sorry, Jack. I’ve got few enough friends in this job. I sure don’t need to piss off the ones I have left.”

  He held out his hand, and I shook it. “Please tell Helen I hope we weren’t rough on her. What’s the deal, by the way? You’ve hired Les, but you told my deputy you’d meet with the judge tomorrow.”

  “Les Butterman has not been hired,” I said emphatically.

  “Well, he told me he had to get a check for it to be official, but he seemed pretty sure of himself. He already wants to discuss a plea. I was a little surprised you’d sleep with that hound. A deal is going to be a stretch. Everyone is calling for Woody’s head. Like I said, I’ve got a US attorney who’s dying to take over the case. Now I have a whole crowd of people and press who think I’m going soft if I agree to life without parole.”

  He hesitated and looked away for a moment. Although I wanted to jump in and straighten him out about that jackass Butterman, I let him go on—I wanted to hear what was making him so uncomfortable.

  “I know you met with Lucy. I assume you’re trying to get her support for mercy, but that won’t work. It’ll make her look good, but it doesn’t get me anything but a rail out of town. I admire your loyalty, but tell Les and Lucy to back off—Les is going to have to earn his fee on this one. The jury may show Woody mercy, but I have to ask for justice, and in this case, that means execution.”

  I tried to keep my cool, but I was pissed. “Let me be clear. Les Butterman is not, nor will he ever be, Woody’s attorney. He doesn’t speak for Woody, Helen, or me, and if he indicates anything to the contrary, he’s lying through his teeth. What’s more, I met with Lucy at her request, and she’s the one who tried to make a deal for her ‘mercy,’ although she’ll deny it. I know you have a job to do and so do I. Let’s try to be professional about it.”

  “Whoa! I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Les hears he’s not going to get his fee. Who’d you hire?”

  “Let me have a little fun and keep that a surprise until tomorrow. Okay?”

  He smiled the old Sam smile. “Fair enough. Hey, I haven’t even asked about your leg. What in the hell were you doing in that part of town and at Butler Field no less?”

  “Lots of memories, Sam, lots of great memories.” As my catcher, he’d been with me for many of those memories.

  I could see through the glass that the press had set up a bank of microphones and a little makeshift podium. Clovis appeared, straightened my tie, and said, “Show time.”

  I nodded and walked deliberately up to the podium, and looked out over a sea of waiting faces. “I’ll make this short. I’ve met with Woody Cole, and I’m going now to see his mother. This is the only time I’ll speak to the press until after the arraignment.”

  “Why did he shoot the senator?”

  I ignored that one.

  “Is he sorry for what he did?”

  “That’s a question for Mr. Cole, and he’s not available.”

  “When will Les Butterman take over the defense?”

  “Let me be clear,” I said for the second time in a matter of minutes: “Neither Mr. Butterman nor his office will be involved in Mr. Cole’s defense.”

  The reporter looked puzzled and shouted, “But—”

  I cut him off. “I met with Mr. Butterman this morning. He’s been told that he won’t be hired. I have nothing further to say on this matter.”

  “Have you engaged counsel?”

  “Yes. Mr. Cole’s counsel will appear with him Tuesday morning.”

  “What’s the defense? Will you claim Woody is insane?”

  I glared at the questioner.

  “What can you tell us? Why did you go to the senator’s home this morning?”

  “The senator’s staff can answer that question however they choose.” I felt good, having said nothing of substance. “I promised I’d speak to you after my visit with Woody, so I have. But the truth is, I have nothing to say. Senator Robinson is dead, and that is a great tragedy. Everyone’s thoughts should be on him and with his family. The best thing you can do is mourn with the people of this state and let our justice system work.”

  24

  ON THE WAY back to the hotel, I gave Clovis the gist of what had happened at the jail—specifically, that Woody thought Beth and I would be in danger if we stayed. Then I told him we were staying, at least through Tuesday’s arraignment.

  “No surprise there,” he drawled.

  “I’ve got some extra work for your guys. I want someone watching Helen Cole night and day. If there are those who think I know something, they may think she does as well. Don’t worry about the cost. We’ve discovered a little money we can use for her protection. I want Micki protected too. She’ll balk, but I’m going to insist. I have no idea who or what’s around the corner, but as they say, better safe … “

  “Oh, she’s going to balk. She’s a wildcat, probably won’t like the idea of anybody protecting her. Then again, you didn’t think you needed protection at first either.”

  I was amused by his reference to Micki as a wildcat. “Beth’s where I’m vulnerable. I have no idea who they are, but I’ll lose it if they even get close to her, and I’m sure they know that.”

  “I’m on it. We’ll do everything we can.”

  “Good. Now there’s one more thing, but nobody, not even
my team, is to know anything about it.”

  He waited patiently.

  “Clovis, somehow, I want you to get into the rotunda and see if you can locate a stray bullet in the wall or ceiling. I want you to check the crime scene for any evidence that there could have been a second shooter in the capitol that day.”

  His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. Is that even a possibility?”

  “Probably not, but does it surprise you that no one has checked?”

  “What would it mean if you’re right?”

  “There’s probably less than a one-percent chance, but if any part of what I hope you’ll find proves true, things will start to make sense where they don’t right now. Can you manage it before anybody knows what you’re doing? No special teams on this one. If you get caught, I’ll take full responsibility.”

  “It’s a tall order, but I’m bettin’ they’ve relaxed security over there by now. I’ll give it a shot.”

  CLOVIS AND I made it back to the hotel without incident and slipped in a side door. Paul joined us, which concerned me. I thought he was supposed to be outside the door to the suite. When we got off the elevator on our floor, I saw another security guy where Paul usually sat. I didn’t recognize him, but Clovis and Paul seemed to know him.

  “Who is this guy? I know he’s security, but whose? Yours? Walter’s? The hotel’s?”

  “Good catch, Jack. We’ll make a security pro out of you yet.” When we walked up to the new guard, he stood and Paul introduced us. His name was Davis, and he was part of hotel security.

  When we opened the door to the suite, I was swarmed by women. Beth and Maggie were concerned about my leg, and Micki wanted to know how things had gone with Woody. I told Micki we would all sit down and talk about it and assured Beth and Maggie that I was fine. That didn’t keep them from bringing pillows from Beth’s bedroom so I could sit sideways on the sofa and prop my leg up. A guy could get used to this.

  Since I was taking up the whole sofa, Clovis and Paul brought over the chairs from the table, so we could sit in a circle of sorts. By the time everyone had found a seat, I had my thoughts organized.

  “First things first. Micki, your sitting third chair is impossible. It won’t work—sorry.” Micki looked confused. “If you’re in agreement, we’ll be partners or whatever you want to call it. I’ve never considered Maggie a second chair, and I won’t think of you as second or third chair either. I need you to set up shop right here, right now—not tomorrow. For the next thirty-six hours, we are under the gun—for reasons I’ll explain in a minute.”

  Micki jumped in: “Okay. Can do. I’ll have my office handled by the time you return from Mrs. Cole’s house.”

  “Not so fast—I’ve got something for you all to think about, and I don’t want any of you to make a snap judgment. He wouldn’t tell me what it is, but Woody says he discovered something that could put us all in danger.” I turned the floor over to Clovis.

  “Yesterday afternoon, I believe someone tried to run Jack over. He has also received credible threats. The fact he’s still here doesn’t take away from the gravity of what could happen; it just proves he doesn’t scare easily.” He let the silence linger. “I’ve told him that I’ll do my best, but we don’t know what or who we’re up against. You’re all at risk. Jack says he’s staying at least until Tuesday afternoon, but he wants you to decide for yourselves whether to stay or not. Maggie, I’ll brief Mr. Matthews’s security team about my concerns. Beth, you might want to talk to your father and Jeff. Micki, Jack insists that if you join the team, you get the same protection.”

  “I don’t need security,” she said, trying (and failing) to look nonchalant. “I’ve been dealing with drug pushers and thugs all my legal life. I can take care of myself.”

  I quickly responded, “Micki, security isn’t negotiable—it’s the price of admission. If I’m worried about my safety, I’m no good to Woody. The same goes for if I’m worried about Beth, Maggie, or now, you. You probably can take care of yourself, but Clovis provides us all a certain level of protection, so we are comfortable enough to do our jobs. It’s not up for discussion.”

  Our eyes locked, and she was first to blink. “You know, you’re pretty quick to pull rank, partner. But okay, I can live with it.”

  Maggie said to me, “I’ve already spoken to Walter. If you’re staying, so am I. Besides, I’m starting to enjoy the company of all these handsome men.”

  No surprises from Beth. “You know I’m not going anywhere.”

  Then it was Paul’s turn. He told us that, from now on, each member of the various security teams would wear an identification pin and would be given a new password each day, as would we. If we saw a security person we didn’t recognize, we were to ask him for the password. If he didn’t have the one that matched ours, or if we had any suspicions at all, we were to hit the little panic button he was handing out. It made a loud, piercing noise and sent a GPS signal to everyone on the security team. Today’s password was Delilah.

  We’d dealt with all the housekeeping—Micki was on board, Paul had given us all the security info, and Micki would bunk with Beth. It was time to give them the really bad news.

  “The long and the short of it is that Woody wants to die. He wants to plead guilty and be executed. He doesn’t want to put up a defense, says he’s as sane as you and me, and refuses to tell me why he pointed the gun at Russell’s head.”

  “Well, that’s a problem,” I heard Micki mutter.

  “No kidding. I’m sure he’s depressed. Who wouldn’t be? But I don’t think he’s depressed enough to be insane or delusional. He says he had a plan to scare the shit out of Russell, and then kill himself. The fact that he had a plan doesn’t help with the issue of premeditation, nor does the fact that he had his lawyer put all his assets in trust the day before the shooting.

  “I have no idea what his plan was, other than to confront Russell about whatever had sent him over the edge. I went after him from every angle I could think of, trying to persuade him to explain what happened. Regardless, he takes full responsibility for Russell’s death and wants to die for the crime. I couldn’t convince him otherwise, so I bought time. He agreed to give me until Tuesday to convince him to change his mind.” I paused so all this could sink in.

  “Micki, he agreed for you to be co-counsel. You’re officially hired. I’ll have your brood-mare check tonight. I’ll give you more details, but this should be enough to keep your motor running. Now comes the hard part. I have to tell Helen that her only son wants to die.”

  25

  AT HELEN’S HOUSE, I introduced Maggie to Mabel and the other die-hards who continued to man the kitchen, living room, and phones. I was pleased to see Beth give each of them a quick hug. Mabel said that Helen was waiting for us in the study.

  She got up from her desk when we walked in and hurried over to me. “I heard on the news that someone almost ran over you. What in the world happened?” She looked at Beth. “Forgive me, child. If I’d known anything like this might happen, I’d never have asked your dad to come. Jack, take your beautiful daughter home and don’t look back. I mean it. We’ll manage.”

  “Hold on, Helen. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear on the news. We don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m fine, and I’m staying until we can make some sense out of all this. I’m here this afternoon to give you a report, go over a few hurdles we face, and enlist your help. Let’s sit down.”

  I gave her a filtered version of my meeting with Woody, leaving out the trust-fund discussion and what he’d said about wanting to die.

  Helen looked relieved. “Okay—he didn’t mean to shoot Russell. And that bit about not cooperating and/or defending himself is just hogwash. I’ll cure him of that notion.”

  I hated to dampen her optimism. “It’s not as simple as that. Woody did plan this. He says he only meant to frighten Russell, but he did put a gun to his head, and the gun did go off. Convincing the jury it was an accident will be tough, even wit
h evidence to back it up. I’ve got thirty-six hours to figure out why he wanted to scare Russell and somehow convince him to trust me.”

  Helen asked, “Thirty-six hours? What happens then?”

  I had no choice but to tell her. “The arraignment. Unless I can talk him out of it, your son intends to plead guilty to the first-degree murder of Russell Robinson.”

  I could see the momentary look of disbelief in her eyes, yet she knew I was telling her the truth. She didn’t say anything, and I let her come to grips with what I had just said.

  “Then let’s not waste time. Let’s do whatever we need to do.”

  I told her I had hired a woman named Micki Lawrence as my co-counsel. “Micki … hmmm,” she said, nodding as I listed her credentials. “Is she single?” she asked hopefully. We were all glad to laugh a little. She had a one-track mind where Woody’s future was concerned, regardless of the situation.

  “To answer your question, yes. Micki is single and attractive to boot. She stands at least a head taller than Woody, but I promise you, the first time I get the chance I’m going to introduce them. Maybe a pretty woman can charm some sense into your son.”

  “I know you’ll need some money as a retainer. That’s the right word, isn’t it?” Helen got out of her chair and walked over to her desk. She opened a drawer and pulled out her checkbook.

  “Helen, Woody told me he’s made a few good investments over the years and actually has quite a bit of money put away. He told me to use it to hire Micki and cover any expenses you may incur. If we need more, I’ll advance him the money.”

  “Well, that’s a load off my mind,” she said, exchanging her checkbook for Woody’s. “I was just about to sell some of my stock to help pay your fee. You take his checkbook and pay Ms. Lawrence and yourself.”

  “Helen, you know I won’t charge a fee. But I do need a check for Micki, and I’m also going to spend a little money on security for you. It won’t be intrusive, but I don’t want you or your friends to be in any danger.”