“What do you think he’ll say?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Will you call him now or from the office?”
“I’ll call him now. One last thing… I asked Juanita to get me the date of Edgar Olsen’s suicide.”
“And?” replied Nat, keenly.
“She told me it was May 17, 1998.”
“Any particular reason for your interest?”
“Well I was just considering the possibility that Dorothy’s father might have killed her.”
Nat hesitated and then spoke again.
“But May 17 was before she left, wasn’t it? And even according to the original trial evidence, she was alive at least six days after his death. So he couldn’t have killed her.”
“I said it was just a theory. And you’re right. The date of the flight was the 24th May. But what’s interesting is that she bought the ticket on May 19 – two days after Edgar’s suicide.”
“That still rules out any possibility of him killing her.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t rule out the possibility of her killing him. We know from the poem that she had some sort of grudge against him. Maybe she killed him and staged it to look like suicide. Maybe that’s why she went to England for the abortion.”
“What’s going to England for an abortion have to do with making it look like suicide?”
“I mean, that’s why she went to England for the abortion instead of having it over here – because she had to get out of the country fast! She was afraid that if she stayed in America she’d be arrested.”
“But if she staged it to look like suicide, she wouldn’t need to run away.”
“Maybe she couldn’t be sure. And then there’s all that money she paid to the medical center. That could’ve been a payoff for their silence. They might have found out that she was wanted for murder and blackmailed her.”
“But she wasn’t wanted for murder.”
“But she might have thought she was.”
“Yes, but she would hardly have told them that.”
“What about if she was under anesthetic? Or when the anesthetic wore off? Don’t people sometimes say things at that stage that they wouldn’t say otherwise? I heard it’s like sodium pentothal.”
He was expecting Nat to shoot him down in flames and tell him that he was on a flight of fancy. But Nat’s response surprised him.
“Of course! Now it makes perfect sense!”
“What does?”
“What David said.”
“David?”
“Yes. He called again … while you were out.”
“And what did he say?” asked Alex, excitedly.
“He found another verse of that poem.”
“And?”
“Well it pretty much backs up your theory about Dorothy killing her father. He kept going on about the similarities to a Sylvia Plath poem.”
“‘Daddy’?”
“Yes. But it wasn’t just that. It was the actual words that he found.”
“Well don’t tease me. How did it go?”
“It went: ‘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.’”
20:53 PDT
Chuck Dusenbury was now at his home in Sacramento. He had given Alex a special number at the office and he was now having all calls to that number diverted to his home. He was eagerly awaiting developments. He had told Alex Sedaka that he could rescind the death warrant at any time until the execution took place, but he preferred to hear from him before nine.
The phone call came just minutes before nine. It was taken by an aide and put through to Dusenbury.
“Governor Dusenbury,” said Alex.
“Yes.”
“Alex Sedaka.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“Yes, I know, sir. And I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”
“So what’s the news?”
“Well, as you know, Clayton told me that he didn’t kill Dorothy and doesn’t know where her body is.”
“Yes.”
“You may also know that initially I was skeptical of his innocence. But now I have found certain exculpatory evidence that puts matters in a different light.”
“Go on,” Dusenbury prompted.
Over the next few minutes, Alex told the governor about the airline ticket, the PDF brochure from the medical center, the oral confirmation from the medical center about Dorothy arriving there, David’s hacking into Dorothy’s bank account and the subsequent payments she had made to the medical center over the course of the next year. He explained that he only had documentary evidence of the purchase of the airline ticket and the bank transfers and he had to admit that the evidence of both had been obtained illegally, although he had not personally sanctioned it or known in advance that it was going to take place. He admitted that the medical center had not sent over any written confirmation that Dorothy was ever at the center and that the person who had provided the oral confirmation was now off duty and currently not contactable. Nevertheless he could vouch for the fact that she had given such oral confirmation and was prepared to stake his own reputation on the authenticity of the information.
After Alex had finished, the governor remained silent for a few seconds. When he finally spoke, his tone was almost apologetic.
“Listen, son, I know you’ve been working your butt off on this case – and I have to confess I always had doubts about Clayton’s guilt, and I still do. I mean, I even accept the oral evidence – which is hearsay. Unlike the courts, I can do that.”
“I know, sir. That’s why I’m appealing to you at least to stay the execution.”
“But you just haven’t given me enough. The only way I can grant a stay would be to rescind the warrant without issuing a pardon or clemency.”
“But you could do that. And if we don’t come up trumps you can re-issue the warrant.”
“I know, and if you gave me enough evidence that’s what I’d do. If we had enough oral evidence I’d rescind the warrant right now and wait to see the written confirmation. But the way things stand now, you haven’t proved Burrow’s innocence, much less that Dorothy’s alive. You’ve just shifted the time of her death a year and a bit – just like the court said.”
“I know, sir. But that undermines the entire basis of the original prosecution case. Their case was that he grabbed her on the night of the prom and killed her then and there.”
“That was the theory. But that wasn’t the evidence. It’s important that we distinguish between what the prosecution speculated on and what they actually proved. The main evidence against Burrow was the physical evidence. That was pretty much what nailed him. The disappearance gave them a plausible timeframe, but there was nothing sacrosanct about that timeframe. It could’ve been a different time: he’d still be just as guilty.”
“Yes, but the fact that she disappeared on the night of the prom and yet was still alive over a year later suggests deliberate concealment on her part. The fact that she vanished and stayed in hiding, suggested that she wanted people to think she was dead. That suggests that she was planning to have someone blamed for her death.”
“Or that she was afraid of someone who was already trying to kill her.”
“But why would she play possum? Why not just go to the cops?”
“Maybe because she couldn’t prove it, Alex. Maybe because she didn’t trust anyone. Maybe because she didn’t think they’d believe her – or wouldn’t care.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”
“Is it? Try and think about it from her point of view. A frightened girl, no friends, completely alienated, her father dead, estranged from her mother. Who could she tell? Who could she trust? Who did she feel comfortable talking to? She had no one to turn to. Not her mother. Not her teachers or school friends – she didn’t have any friends. She was a loner. Maybe her brother, but he was too young. All she could do was run and
hide. And because she had financial resources in the form of her inheritance, she had the means to run away and hide. She had just turned eighteen and had access to the trust fund.”
“Did you – pardon me for putting it like this, sir.” Alex’s voice was now rising. “But did you know about this before?”
There was silence again for a few seconds.
“I knew about the trust fund. I knew about her alienation and the fact that she was estranged from her parents.”
“How could you…?”
“Look, don’t forget, son, Est—Mrs. Olsen sat with me for over an hour before you came and she poured her heart out to me. I know all about it because she told me … and because I listened. But if you mean did I know about Dorothy going to London or about those financial payouts, then the answer is no.”
“Is there anything I can say to change your mind?”
“Say? Nothing. But there is something you can do.”
“What?”
“Bring me proof that someone other than Clayton Burrow killed Dorothy Olsen – or better yet, bring me proof that she’s still alive.”
21:04 PDT
“We’ve done our best,” said Alex solemnly. “There’s nothing more we can do.”
For a long while, no one said a word. They could have been Buddhist monks in a state of meditation. As they stood in the reception area, they formed a triangle. Juanita looking at Alex and Alex at Nat. Nat, though, was looking at the ground.
It was Juanita who broke the silence.
“Are we just going to give up?”
There was a hint of defiance in her tone. But what good was defiance when they had run out of ammunition?
Alex spoke softly.
“We’ve tried everything. There’s nothing more we can do.”
“What about the medical center in England?” snapped Juanita.
Alex studied Nat for even the slightest reaction. There was none.
“You said the nurse you spoke to is no longer on duty?”
“That’s right.”
“Are any of the administrative staff there now?”
“I doubt it. It’s the wee small hours of the morning in London.”
“Then there’s nothing we can do. Unless David comes up with something.”
“Do you think he will?”
“I don’t know. But he’s still looking. And if he managed to hack into Dorothy’s bank account who knows what else he might find.”
Juanita sniffled, but held back the tears this time. She forced herself to speak.
“Don’t you think someone should be with Clayton now? He must be desperately lonely.”
Alex was touched by Juanita’s compassion. The fact of the matter was they all knew that Clayton Burrow was a rapist as well as a bully who had made Dorothy’s life a misery and who had beaten up her younger brother when he tried to defend his sister. In his youth he had been a truly repulsive character and, whatever suffering he was going through now, it was hard to escape the view that he had brought it on himself one way or another.
And yet … he was still a human being and they couldn’t abandon him. Not because it was their job, not because there was kudos and prestige in saving a man from the death penalty, but because he was a human being and in the years during which he had been under the threat of death, he had changed in some way to become some semblance of a decent person.
“Look, I don’t expect you guys to hang round here,” said Alex slowly. “You can go home.”
Juanita gave Alex a pained look.
“But what if they send a fax through from London?”
Alex shook his head.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“But what if it does?” Juanita persisted.
“Okay, look, I’m not telling you to go home. I’m simply saying that you don’t have to stay … either of you.”
“I’m staying!” said Juanita, flatly.
“Nat?”
Nat looked up and met Alex’s eyes.
“I’ll stay too. But I need to do something first. I’ll be back in an hour.”
Alex smiled. Juanita had been right – not with her original suspicions but with the explanation she gave afterward. Nat was trying to get the information from the medical center by pretending to be Dorothy’s legal representative. He couldn’t do it in front of them because it was unethical and could get Alex disbarred. So instead, he was going to stick his neck out and put his own career on the line. He was the same fiery idealist that he had been when he first badgered Alex into giving him a job. He still had that youthful passion that had so impressed Alex.
The trouble was that Alex was not sure if he should allow him to do it. True, they had a client on death row who was just three hours away from execution yet probably innocent. And for an innocent client facing death, a decent lawyer should be ready to go the extra mile. But breaking the law by misrepresentation was a serious matter. What good would it do him to save one innocent man if he lost the capacity to save anyone else thereafter? That was why as a lawyer he could go so far but no further. He could bend the rules but not break them.
And letting Nat go off on his own so that he could contact the medical center and misrepresent himself as Dorothy’s lawyer was bending the rules right the way round.
But what of Nat himself? What if he was caught? Should he lose his budding career for Clayton Burrow? Did Clayton Burrow deserve that much help? Hadn’t Clayton Burrow done enough damage?
But at the end of the day, it was Nat’s decision.
“Okay,” said Alex. “You do what you have to do.”
21:09 PDT
Jonathan was eating a microwave dinner. He knew that he had plenty of time, but he wanted to get to San Quentin early. The place would be crawling with reporters and it might take a long time to get in and he didn’t want to get held up.
It had been a roller-coaster day for him, first hearing the news about the governor’s offer, then seeing the news, before visiting Alex Sedaka and talking to Juanita.
In some ways he felt that he could no longer hate Clayton Burrow. Yes, Burrow was a bastard. Yes, he had deserved to suffer. But it was almost as if he had suffered enough – as if his execution would be an anti-climax. Jonathan still felt the anger that he had felt toward him nine years ago. But somehow he couldn’t experience it with quite the same intensity.
Time heals every wound, so they say.
The phone rang.
“Hallo.”
“Hi, Jonathan.”
Jonathan froze.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in my car.”
“You’re calling me on a cell phone.”
“It’s okay, I’ll keep it brief. Look, everything’s going okay, but from what I’ve been told, someone is getting too close.”
“Who?”
“Alex Sedaka’s son, David.”
“What’s his son got to do with it?”
“He’s a computer geek at Berkeley. He’s got hold of the computer and he’s been reading the wiped files using a scanning tunneling microscope.”
“Oh I know that.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Sedaka told me. But what can he find?”
“I don’t know. I’m probably worrying over nothing. It’s been such a long time. But he’s found quite a lot already.”
“Is there any way we can stop him?”
“Only by getting the computer.”
21:15 PDT
“You know, I don’t understand you, boss.”
Alex and Juanita were sitting in the reception area with mugs of coffee.
“How do you mean?”
“Well you don’t want to pretend to the London clinic that we represent Dorothy, to get them to send the paperwork from when she was there, but you’re ready to get a burglar to break into someone’s house to check him out – even though you trust Nat now.”
“Christ, I forgot all about that!”
Alex went for the phon
e and started keying in a number.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to call it off!”
“But I thought you wanted to be sure?”
“I am sure! It’s obvious that Nat’s going to call the medical center again. He just doesn’t want us to know. Or rather he doesn’t want me to know. He doesn’t want to compromise my position … Damn it! Straight to voicemail. Kelly’s probably switched it off.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I guess he doesn’t want his phone going off when he’s doing a burglary.”
“I notice you dodged my question – about the irony of the situation.”
“I guess it’s a case of the exposure risk.”
“I thought you said the exposure risk was low in the case of what Nat’s doing.”
“It is. But it would be like a time bomb ticking away – or like the sword of Damocles. That’s an old Greek legend about – ”
“I know what the sword of Damocles was!”
“Sorry,” said Alex, blushing.
“You’d better try again,” said Juanita. “Calling Lee, I mean.”
Her tone was muted by guilt ... or was it fear?
21:20 PDT
The light was ebbing and the area round the lab was deserted. The front entrance was locked. Jonathan could press the button and ask to be admitted, but then he would be challenged for ID. He could try forcing an entry. But that would only set off an alarm and alert others long before he had the chance to do what he had come there for.
There was, however, one other way he could gain access. He knew that the fire exits were sometimes left open. In theory they were locked from the inside and could be opened with a handle mechanism inside the door. They were also supposed to close automatically behind people when they left that way. But in practice, the mechanism to close them didn’t always work properly. The doors closed, but they didn’t always click shut. And they had such exits on every floor by the fire stairs.
The area by the fire stairs at the back was used as a small parking lot. The dumpsters were also there. But people didn’t really hang round there and people who were leaving for the day would hardly waste time if they happened to look up and chance upon the sight of a man walking up – rather than down – the outside fire stairs.
You Think You Know Me Pretty Well Page 22