A Game of Inches

by Webb Hubbell

  “Speaking of that, the press says you drank a lot that night.”

  I noticed Billy bow up.

  “Mr. Patterson…”

  “Call me Jack.”

  “Mr. P… Jack, I don’t drink very much, ever. The Judge said he told you about my background. When your father drinks so much that he carves up your mother, you’re not inclined to drink. At least I’m not. I remember sipping on a beer so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. I’ve learned you can sip on a beer all night, and nobody notices how much you’re drinking. But order Perrier, and you get lots of looks and ribbing and end up in trouble.”

  “True, but ESPN is reporting that the waiter says he filled your wine glass all night.”

  “The waiter is telling the truth. The young woman sitting next to me drank her own wine and then switched glasses with me. I didn’t mind.”

  “Were any of the women at your table the woman you found in your bed?” Might as well get it out there.

  “I’ve given that question a lot of thought. I don’t think so. I was pretty shaken up when I discovered her, but I don’t think she was one of the girls at our table. It was definitely not Ginger. I can’t guarantee that she wasn’t one of the other two, but I don’t think so. The woman in the bed that morning was a total stranger to me; of that I’m sure.”

  “Billy, I’ve told you I can’t ask you whether you murdered the woman or not, and you’ve told me you don’t remember a thing. So let’s go about it another way. Tell me why I should believe you didn’t kill the woman. You have to be asking yourself that same question or the opposite.”

  Billy paused before answering. “What you’re asking me is what would I like to say to the Judge and Grace about the man they took in and loved like their own, given that I don’t remember a thing.”

  “Yes, I am. But I will also say you don’t have to answer that question if you don’t want to.”

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  “I’ve lived with the image of my father murdering my mother all my life. I was eight years old when it happened, young, but not young enough. I was old enough to remember what alcohol did to my father, but too young to know why Mom and I didn’t leave. Too young to ask her about my grandparents, or why they would let her stay with such a man.

  “I’ve tried to find them, you know. At first, it was something I just did on the Internet, but I had a little money after Oxford, so I decided to dig a little deeper. I think I’m getting close. But that’s not what you asked.

  “I loved my mother, and she drummed into me at a young age to respect everyone, but especially women. I would never strike a woman much less kill one. For me it would mean becoming the man I hated so much. Ask any girl I ever dated. Some of them even made fun of me for being so timid and polite. I’m not a prude, Jack. I’m not celibate, and I’m not gay. I believe in every ounce of my being that I could never murder any woman.”

  I started to speak, but he interrupted.

  “I say all that to you, knowing what I woke up to, and terrified every moment that I am my father after all. I’m not sure I could live with that thought.”

  The moment called for silence. Here was a young man baring his soul to a stranger. I had been conned before, but damned if I didn’t believe him. Yet by his own admission, he could have. He didn’t remember a thing, and he could have lashed out in a fit of violence. The silence stretched as I tried to measure my response.

  “Billy, I believe you. You are in one hell of a mess, and neither of us knows what happened that night. But you are not your father. Of that I am certain.”

  He seemed consoled, but exhausted by the exchange. I asked a few basic questions about the morning of the event and tried to get a few more details on his dinner companions. The jailer opened the door, pointing at his watch. I asked him for a few more minutes.

  “Is there anything else you want to say?” I asked.

  “Thank you for believing me. The Judge said that if you believed me, you would agree to be my lawyer. I sure hope that’s true.”

  22

  I MANAGED TO smile and shook his hand just before the jailer took him away. I couldn’t wait to give Marshall a piece of my mind. Why in the world would Marshall tell him I was going to be his lawyer?

  I remained in the room for a few minutes to gather my thoughts before facing the press. I reminded myself I was not a skilled criminal defense attorney. Before I got mad at Marshall, I needed to check my ego at the front door. The entire deck was stacked against this young man. He needed someone to believe in him, someone who could find out what had happened that night. That would take money and talent. Billy didn’t have any money, and I certainly wasn’t the talent.

  I walked straight up to the bank of waiting microphones.

  “Those of you who know me understand I don’t try a case in the media, so this will be a short session.”

  “Are you going to represent Billy Hopper?” came the first shout.

  “My understanding is that Mr. Hopper is interviewing several lawyers. I met with him today strictly as a favor to a mutual friend.”

  That wasn’t going to satisfy anyone.

  “Why did he murder the girl? Does he hate women?” came the next question.

  “Next question.” I stared coldly at the offending reporter. Did he really expect me to answer such an absurd question?

  “Mr. Patterson, you spent almost an hour with Billy Hopper. Can you tell us if you think he did it?”

  I stared at the young woman, knowing I shouldn’t answer. “You know, I don’t think he did.”

  *****

  Maggie rose to give me a hug as I walked into our office. I could see Marshall in our conference room talking a large man I didn’t recognize.

  “I told you not to come in.” I frowned.

  “What happened to ‘Welcome back, Maggie, I missed you’?”

  I gave her a rueful grin and returned her hug, saying, “I’m sorry. Of course I missed you, and I can’t wait to hear about your trip.”

  “Well, you’ll have to. It seems you’ve been busy in my absence. The press all claim you’re going to represent a murderer, Marshall is waiting in the conference room, and it looks like we may have a new client by the name of Red Shaw. In my opinion, he could use a lesson in manners.” Her sharp tone gave me pause.

  “I did warn you not to come in. How bad was the press?” I asked.

  “The press doesn’t bother me. They don’t want to talk to me, and the building manager isn’t about to let them block the entrance for the other tenants. Rose could easily get in, but she would probably go crazy with all these phone calls.”

  She tried to keep a straight face, but we both broke out laughing. I was sure glad to have her back.

  “All right, Jack, you go talk to Marshall, and I’ll try to bring some organization back to this place.”

  “To whom is Marshall talking?” I asked.

  “He was here when I arrived this morning, said he had been trying to reach you. Name is James Stockdell. I offered to take a message, but he said he’d wait. Apparently they’re already acquainted; they’ve been thick as thieves since Marshall arrived.”

  “Just what I need—another mystery. Do me a big favor and call Red Shaw. Tell him I’m meeting with Marshall and will call him this afternoon.”

  “Oh dear, that’s what I was afraid of. That man…” She grimaced.

  “Welcome back, Maggie.” I smiled as I turned toward the conference room. Her reply was a muted ‘hmph.’

  I opened the door and extended my hand to a muscular man who was seated next to Marshall. He was at least six-five, built like a Mack truck.

  “Jack Patterson. I apologize for not responding to your message. I’ve been getting a lot of calls these last few days.”

  Marshall spoke up. “Jack, this is James Stockdell. He’s one of William’s teammates.”

  We shook hands, and I sat down across from them, “I know you by reputation, Mr. Stockdell. For the life
of me, I will never understand why the Redskins released you to be eligible for the Lobos’ supplemental draft. Big mistake.”

  He smiled. “I was disappointed myself, but then if they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have gotten to know Billy. I’m here on behalf of a group of his teammates who want to offer our help. We think the world of Billy, and even though the Lobos, the union, and his agent have all abandoned him, we won’t.”

  “That’s tremendous, and I’m sure it will mean the world to Billy, but right now there isn’t much you can do besides try to see him in jail and be publically supportive. He could use a few friends right now.” I wanted to be nice, but I needed to talk to Marshall.

  James looked at Marshall and leaned back in his chair.

  “Well, Jack, James is here to offer a little more than emotional support.” Marshall smiled serenely.

  “That’s right, Mr. Patterson. My teammates and I want to put our money where our mouth is.” He reached in the pocket of his sport coat and pulled out his checkbook.

  “Whoa,” I said holding out the palm of my hand. “I can’t let you write me a check.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll collect from the other guys. I have their word. I’m not worried about the money.” James pulled out a pen and began to write.

  “That’s not it. I am not his lawyer.” I said, emphasis on the ‘not.’

  “Marshall explained that you aren’t officially on board yet, that you still think someone else could do a better job for Billy. I’ll leave that up to you two, but I’m heading out of the country for a month, and I don’t want money to limit your options.

  “I’m going to leave you with a check. Put it in your trust account and use it for Billy’s defense whether it’s you or someone else. We can work out a budget when I return. I’m not going to give you a blank check, but if necessary there’s more where this comes from.”

  I had no idea how much he was talking about, but what he suggested was generous and made sense. I called Maggie into the room, explained what was going on, and asked her to write up a paragraph for him to sign giving me authority to use the money for Billy’s defense if both Marshall and I agreed on the expenditure.

  I thought—now watch the check be for a thousand bucks. I thought wrong. The check was for a half a million dollars.

  He saw my jaw drop and said. “Listen, it’s ten teammates at $50,000 a piece, a small price to pay for one of our own. And we’re talking about Billy—I bet I can raise twice the amount when I get back. I don’t know one guy on the team who won’t pitch in, except for maybe the placekicker. He’s a different breed of cat. We all know how expensive lawyers are. You’re as bad as sports agents and investment advisors,” he chuckled.

  “I don’t know what to say, except thank you. Billy appears to have some very good friends.” Marshall nodded in agreement.

  “Mr. Patterson, you played baseball. I bet your teammates are still some of your best friends, even now. For football players the ties are even tighter, maybe because of all the pain, misery, and suffering we endure together. Here’s the thing: when you play ball with a man, you get to know his heart. Billy Hopper has one of the greatest hearts I’ve ever encountered. Let me tell you how he saved my career.

  “I came to camp last summer with a bad attitude, pissed off that the Redskins had let me go. Nobody wants to end his career with an expansion team. I decided to take the Lobos money for a year, but not put forth much effort. I let every minor injury send me to the locker room, hoping to be traded.

  “One day toward the end of preseason I saw Billy Hopper staring at me in the locker room. I remember it like it was yesterday. I growled, “What are you lookin’ at, rookie?”

  “I’m looking at one of the best players in history and wondering when you quit enjoying the game.”

  “I still love the game, but not with a bunch of losers and rookies. We’ll never win a game.” I shot back defensively. Here’s what he said:

  ‘Well, that may be true, but with all the glory, all the money, all the pageantry, it’s still a game, and games are supposed to be fun. When it stops being fun, it’s time to hang ‘em up.’

  “He headed to the showers, and I fumed about some hotshot rookie talking to me like that. The next day I decided to show him what having fun looked like. He came across the middle to catch a pass and I barreled into him on his blind side so hard he flipped up in the air and landed hard. I was pretty sure he’d be out cold.

  “But he bounced up, handed me the ball he was still holding, gave me a grin and said, ‘Nice hit—having fun yet?’

  “Every day from then on he’d find just the right time to ask ‘Having fun yet, Mr. Stockdell?’ Needless to say, we became fast friends.

  “I was named to the pro bowl again this year and without a doubt had more fun playing the game than I’ve had since junior high. Billy’s enthusiasm infected us all, and despite our losing record I think most of us would say this was a winning season. I’m telling you that kid has heart to spare.

  “If not one teammate had agreed to join in paying for his defense, I’d be here writing the same check. Money is temporary, friendship is forever. Anyone who lets go of a friendship for money’s sake has his priorities mixed up.”

  Maggie had heard all this, and I saw she was about to tear up. James turned to her and said, “Come on, young lady. Let’s go sign whatever you need me to sign so I can get out of this town. I have a plane to catch, and your Mr. Patterson has a crime to solve.”

  23

  “AMAZING! NO ONE asked, he simply flew to DC, and wrote a half a million dollar check, all for a friend of less than a year.” I said.

  “William has that effect on people.” Marshall said.

  “Talk about effect on people, no part of my agreement with you included me representing Billy. Now that money is available, we can get him a real lawyer.”

  “I saw you on TV. You told those reporters you didn’t think he did it. Did you mean it?”

  I paused. I’d only spent an hour with Billy, and most people can be convincing and charming when they want to. But I had to admit it—I didn’t think he’d committed the murder.

  “Well, yes, I did. But that’s a far cry from a jury finding him not guilty. You have to admit the evidence against him is overwhelming, and I suspect the prosecution has a whole lot more.”

  “I agree with you there. Don’t forget that I’m a judge. In over ninety-five of the criminal cases that go to trial, the defendant is found guilty. The scales of justice are heavily weighted toward the prosecution—the defendant is at a huge disadvantage. In a high drama case like this, with the evidence such as it is, I’d say the possibility of a not guilty verdict is less than one percent.”

  “That’s why we need the best of the best.” Thank goodness he was coming around to my way of thinking.

  “No, my friend, that’s why Billy needs you. Hear me out.” He held up his hand in a gesture I’d often seen.

  “Jack, this came to me the other day. You’re not a criminal lawyer. Your performance in my courtroom in the Cole case wasn’t pretty. It was unconventional, outrageous, frustrating, and yet the most effective representation I’ve ever witnessed. Your passion for your client overcame every advantage the prosecution had. That’s why I wanted you to meet William. I’m convinced you will develop that same passion for him.”

  “But Marshall, you said it. I’m not a criminal lawyer. I represent corporations, not people. I represent money.”

  “That’s why you hired Micki in the Cole case. You have to admit, y’all made a great team. That’s why I asked if you’d called her lately.”

  “I called her yesterday. You don’t want to know what she thinks about Billy.”

  “Micki’s been through some rough times in the last few months, sort of lost her center. She needs to work on something she can believe in. I bet you can convince her.” He clearly hadn’t been listening.

  “Jack, I know I’ve used up my favor when you agreed to visit Billy. But I’m go
ing to ask anyway—I want you to consider taking on Billy’s defense. Billy and I went over your strengths and weaknesses the other day. In point of fact, he is a very smart guy. We both think you are his only chance.

  “Money is no longer an issue. So listen. I’m leaving this afternoon for home: Grace needs some calming. Take the weekend, but ask yourself this—don’t you want to know who killed that young woman and went to all that trouble setting Billy up? You may not be the best criminal defense lawyer in the country, but I do believe you’re the only one who’s stubborn enough to discover the real answer to who did this and why.”

  With that he walked out of the conference room, silently closing the door behind him. He had an unerring sense for the dramatic. Aw, hell—I liked Billy well enough and God knows I would always owe Marshall. I did want to know what really happened, but I was ready for a normal life, one that included Carol Madison.

  I tried to unload on Maggie, but she cut me short.

  “Sounds like you have plenty to tell me, but we’ll have to catch up later. You have a lunch appointment at Morton’s with Mr. Shaw in fifteen minutes. He was insistent. We can talk at dinner. Walter and I are still on European time so we’ve got an early reservation at the Bombay Club. I’ve got an itch for their Tandoori Salmon.”

  “Morton’s, huh?”

  “Yes, and by the way who exactly is Carol Madison?”

  “Did she call?”

  “No, her office called to say she would pick you up at three o’clock tomorrow. You didn’t answer my question,” she said tartly.

  “Okay—call the Bombay and tell them you and I will come for drinks a little earlier. It’s been an interesting week.”

  24

  RED SAT AT a choice table toward the rear of Morton’s on Connecticut Avenue. He waved me over, slipping his iPhone back into a coat pocket.