“If you do it again, Caitlin, none of this is privileged.”
Chapter Fifty
So that’s my confession, Father. I’m sorry it took so long, but none of it seemed to make sense without the rest of it. There are plenty of sins in there. Pride, lust, greed and envy for sure. Even gluttony if you count my getting drunk after the breakup. And anger. Dear God, anger coming out of every pore. I think anger drove all the rest of it. So all of the biggies except sloth—and sloth is the one sin I’ll probably never commit.
I traded the cased dueling pistols to Phillip Schuyler for a receipt from the U.S. Attorney’s office. I thought there was a fifty-fifty chance they were stolen property and I didn’t want to find out the hard way. I let him know they’d come from Learned but said I couldn’t tell him how I’d gotten my hands on them. He said maybe I’d get a chance to tell a grand jury and I said, “Hit me with your best shot, kid.” We both laughed, so that’s not gonna happen. I’m not holding my breath ’til I get the pistols back, and I’m not sure I want them.
Caitlin killed Tom Bradshaw. She killed him to keep him from cutting her and her mother off with a measly half-million bucks because it turned out Learned was her real father. When she saw Schwartzchild’s conflict-of-interest letter, she figured pitiless enforcement of the prenup and a change in the will and her trust were in play. Bradshaw bullied Ariane into an abortion of a child she’d already named, and I think Caitlin was pretty torn up about that for Ariane’s sake. The love she has for her mother is deep and rich. But I don’t think she would have murdered Bradshaw over that, even after she knew he wasn’t her real father. I think the abortion told Caitlin that there was no way Ariane would have the guts to do anything about the financial punishment Bradshaw planned to administer.
So Caitlin did something about it herself. She had access to the museum’s light dragoon pistol because Bradshaw hadn’t returned it to the museum yet after bringing it home. She worked out the same bullet-switch trick I did and used it. She was out of school all day on the Monday Bradshaw was killed. She only needed Learned’s .45 for ten minutes or so, and she could have gotten her hands on it while Learned and Ariane were otherwise engaged. She ruined one of her pillows by firing into it so she could get a bullet with .45-caliber ballistics to use in the flintlock. That’s why the pillow was missing from her bedroom.
So I know she did it, I know why she did it, and I know how she did it. But the law says I can’t tell anyone. I took an oath when I was called to the bar. I swore to preserve my clients’ confidences and to defend them zealously within the bounds of the law. I was a big girl and I knew what I was doing. That oath pretty much defines who I am and who I’ve been trying to become since fourth grade. I’ll be violating that oath if I rat Caitlin out.
I could do it anyway. I could break my oath and face the consequences. But I’m not going to. Let’s be clear on that. I’m not saying I can’t, I’m saying I won’t. I won’t clear Learned’s name. I won’t comfort Paul by telling him that maybe the only person he’ll ever love wasn’t a murderer after all. I won’t bring a cold-blooded killer to justice. I take full moral responsibility for that choice. I’m pretty sure I’m making the right call. Right or wrong, though, it’s my call and I’ll live with it.
Bottom line, I guess, it’s law versus justice and law wins. You go to law school to learn law—not justice.
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