Redress of Grievances

by Brenda Adcock

  "Got an extra fishing rod?" she asked with a smile.

  "In the cabin," he said looking up at her. "What the hell brings you up here, kiddo?"

  She squatted down next to her old friend and rested an arm on his shoulder. "I'm here to offer you a job."

  "And give all this up? Forget it."

  Harriett reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a handful of bills, waving them under his eyes.

  "How much?" he asked.

  "Three thousand. For starters."

  "Must be some case."

  "Maybe. That's why I need you, Wayne."

  "Well, for that kind of cash, it ain't some dude screwin' his secretary, that's for damn sure."

  "Murder times four."

  Wayne turned his head and looked at her. "Fuck, Harriett, can't you ever find a client who's content just to knock off one other person? How'd you get stuck with this one?"

  "It was a referral," she said, looking out over the lake.

  "From who? Dunne?"

  Wayne knew from her silence that he was right.

  "You ain't gettin' mixed up with that dame again, are you?"

  "No," she lied.

  "Right," he said and Harriett knew he didn't believe her. "You check the warrant this time?"

  "All the paperwork's in order, and they have the weapon with her prints on it. I might not be able to win this one, Wayne, but I need to find enough to get the sentence lessened."

  "Now why would you want to do that for someone who up and killed four people?"

  "That's what they pay me to do."

  "You over Wilkes yet?"

  "No. Are you?"

  "Sometimes I make it a whole week without thinking about that son of a bitch. Wish I'd never told you about that warrant," Wayne said.

  "Me, too."

  "Maybe he is a fruitcake, and he'll never get out of the loony bin."

  "He wrote me once," Harriett said softly as she shifted her eyes to the lake. "Right after I moved to Austin."

  "How'd he find out where you were?"

  "I don't know."

  "What'd he say? Thanks?"

  Clearing her throat, Harriett looked at Wayne and attempted a smile.

  "He said he'd come to visit me someday."

  "You reported it, I hope."

  "I'm supposed to be contacted if he's ever released."

  "It's been nearly twelve years. Think they'll remember?"

  "Hope so. Will you take this job?"

  "I guess I've caught about every fish in this lake at least once. Might as well. In Austin?"

  "Dallas. I need for you to interview the client's co-workers and friends. I'm having a hard time getting a feel for what kind of person she is."

  "A woman? Well, that's a new wrinkle. You staying in Dallas?"

  "I'm going back to Austin in the morning. It's going to take a while for this to come to trial, and I'll be filing for a change of venue. Right now there's no reason for a judge to grant that. We'll see what the press does once they get more involved in the case. I might need you to do a little Deep Throat work for me."

  "Whip up publicity for the case? Ain't that illegal?"

  "Not unless you get caught and snitch on me," Harriett smiled.

  "I'll start first thing in the a.m."

  Pulling a folded sheet of legal paper from her jacket, she handed it to him.

  "This is the who, what, when, and where. Don't know the why. I'll book you a room for a week at the Hyatt. Winston and Dunne will bill it out to the client later. If you need more money, they've set up a separate expense account for you. Just contact Doug or Alex, and they'll cut you a check."

  "What's the limit?"

  "There isn't one."

  "I see a whole lot of room service in my future," Wayne chuckled. "Grab a rod."

  "I have to get back to Dallas. I want to see my client again before I leave for Austin."

  "You'll be sorry. The granddaddy of all bass is waiting out there."

  Patting Wayne on the back, she said, "To come this close to shore he'd have to have a death wish."

  "Give me about a week, and I'll bring whatever I find to Austin. Haven't had the chance to witness our state government in action for a while."

  "We'll have a room ready for you. Thanks, Wayne," she said, kissing his cheek.

  He stopped her as she started to walk away, "Hey, I like the truck."

  AT FOUR O'CLOCK Thursday afternoon, Harriett entered the back door of the George Allen Center for the last time. The next morning, the family would release a statement to the press announcing that she had been retained to represent Sharon Taggart, as well as their faith that Sharon was innocent of the charges against her. It would be the same old bullshit families always said. After passing inspection, she waited for Sharon to be brought to her. There was a reassuring sameness to the way people were handled in jail.

  When Sharon was finally seated across from her, Harriett looked at the shy woman, and somehow the word murderer didn't come to mind.

  "Did you get the pictures?" she asked.

  "Yes. Thank you."

  "I've arranged for your father to bring your children for a visit later this evening."

  "I don't want them to see me here."

  "You'll meet with them in a conference room on the second floor. No bars, but you won't be able to see your father there. Someone else will bring the children to the room. It's not likely they'd be smuggling a weapon in for you. I can't do anything about the coveralls though."

  "That's all right. They'll like the bright orange. You're very kind, Ms. Markham."

  "How old are your children, Sharon?"

  "Kevin is four and Laurel is almost two. Do you have children?"

  "A niece who's eighteen. I became her guardian when she was two, after her parents were killed."

  Sharon smiled. "She'll be leaving home soon then."

  "I've spoken to your mother, as well as other members of your family."

  "That must have been depressing for you," Sharon chuckled.

  "They're all concerned about you, Sharon. I've agreed to take your case. They'll announce it tomorrow."

  "Thank you."

  "I'll be returning to Austin in the morning after I meet with the prosecutor assigned to your case, so we need to go over a few things before I leave. Feel up to a few more questions?"

  "Well, I was going to watch the soaps on TV, but I suppose it can wait," Sharon quipped. Then she looked at Harriett. "Sorry. Poor attempt at humor."

  "It's important that you keep your spirits up if you can. I've retained a private investigator to interview some of your co-workers and friends for me."

  "Why? They won't know anything."

  "We might need some character witnesses later. Have you ever had any trouble with any of your co-workers?"

  "No."

  "Do you like your job?"

  "It pays the bills," she shrugged.

  "Do they find your work satisfactory?"

  "I get good evaluations."

  "Has Frank come to see you yet?"

  Sharon shook her head.

  "Well, I'm sure he will soon."

  "It probably doesn't matter, and he's busy with Kevin and Laurel."

  "Frank told me that you don't like to be grabbed. That true?"

  "Yes."

  "Is it just a phobia?"

  Sharon's eyes met Harriett's, "Do you enjoy being grabbed?"

  "Depends on who it is," Harriett smiled. "Sometimes a man might grab a woman when they're horsing around. It's not uncommon between husbands and wives."

  "I don't like feeling...trapped," Sharon said flatly.

  "Are you claustrophobic?"

  "No. I just don't like for anyone to touch me without my permission. A quirk, I guess."

  "Tell me about Jan."

  "Who?"

  "Parker said you had an imaginary playmate named Jan when you were little."

  Sharon laughed. "God! I haven't thought about her in eons. I don't know what
I could possibly tell you about someone who doesn't exist. I guess every kid has an invisible playmate at some time. I think I made her up from some story I heard."

  "Are you and your brother close?"

  "Not so much now that he's in Austin most of the time. He's getting married next winter. I hope I can be there."

  "Paige spoke very highly of you."

  "She's a sweet girl. Parker's a lucky man."

  "Do you think the difference in their ages will be a problem?"

  Sharon closed her eyes and rolled her head around on her shoulders.

  "An age difference never bothered him before, so I don't suppose it will now," Sharon said cryptically. "There's a lot an older man can teach a younger woman."

  "There is something to be said for experience, I guess," Harriett agreed.

  "Is Paige a virgin?" Sharon asked, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

  "Why would you ask that?"

  "Just curious. I've read that men like young virginal women, even though they're an endangered species today."

  Harriett looked across the table at Sharon. Throwing her head back, Sharon took a deep breath before meeting Harriett's eyes again, arching her left eyebrow.

  "Are you a lesbian, Harriett?"

  "My personal life isn't pertinent to your case," Harriett said.

  Leaning forward on the table, Sharon said, "Ever seen a fabulously beautiful woman and wondered what it would be like to touch her, feel her against you?"

  "Have you?"

  "When I was younger. But not now." Sharon shrugged as she leaned back in her chair again. "One of those awkward teenage things probably."

  Harriett glanced at the clock on the wall behind Sharon.

  "Your father will be here with Kevin and Laurel soon," she said.

  "I should make myself a little more presentable then," Sharon said.

  Chapter Fourteen

  HARRIETT ARRIVED AT the office of Dallas County District Attorney Harry Ward at eight forty-five Friday morning, accompanied by Wayne. Ward's secretary escorted her into his office a few minutes later. She had known Harry Ward when he had been in private practice. During her absence from Dallas, he had run for and been elected District Attorney. Except for a few pounds added to his waistline, he hadn't changed much over the years. He still had a full head of ash brown hair and perpetual frown furrows across his forehead. He stood as she crossed the office to shake his hand, and allowed himself the luxury of a momentary smile.

  "Been a long time, Harriett," Ward said, motioning to a chair across from his desk. Setting her briefcase down next to her, she glanced around Ward's office.

  "I see this office hasn't changed much," she said with a smile. "It looks pretty much the same as it was under the last DA."

  "Continuity. Besides if I moved anything I'd probably never be able to find it again. I expect you're here to feel us out about the Taggart case."

  "I've looked over the paperwork your office sent me and..."

  "Whoa! I'm not the one handling this case, Harriett. In fact, I have to be in court in about half an hour on another case that's already taken way too much time. I've assigned Taggart to an assistant."

  "Then I guess I'll have to meet with him."

  "He's just gathering up some things, and then I'll turn the two of you loose on each other in a conference room," Ward said. "To tell you the truth, he wanted this case. Lobbied for it pretty hard so I hope he doesn't screw it up. He's new, so be gentle with him."

  "I thought Todd Connor might be the ADA assigned to the Taggart case."

  "He was, but another case took a turn we hadn't expected."

  The door to Ward's office opened and a young man rushed in, adjusting his tie.

  "Harriett Markham, meet Assistant District Attorney Sean Lassiter."

  She stood and extended her hand to Lassiter, a tall, thin man with darting ferret-like brown eyes. He shook her hand and released it quickly.

  "I have everything set up in a room down the hall," he said more to Ward than Harriett. "Riley will join us in a few minutes.

  "Riley?" she asked.

  "Yes, Detective James Riley was the lead investigator on this case," Lassiter answered with a smile. "And he seemed unusually pleased when he heard you'd be handling the defense."

  Ward looked at his watch and stood. "Well, looks like the bell has rung for round one. I have to get to court. Good luck."

  Harriett and Lassiter followed Ward from the office and turned left as he turned right toward the elevators. Wayne fell in behind them. Entering the conference room, she placed her briefcase on the table and removed a pad. Lassiter unbuttoned the jacket to his suit and sat down across from her.

  "Mrs. Taggart's representative at the arraignment entered a not guilty plea," he said. "Are you planning to amend that?"

  "No. I'm satisfied with the plea. For now."

  "Did you find all the paperwork in order?"

  "Yes. But I'm curious about how you arrived at the charge."

  "The grand jury found it justifiable considering the number of people who died or were seriously injured as a result of your client's actions."

  "Alleged actions," she corrected, raising her eyes from the notepad to look at him. "From what I've read and seen, the only real piece of evidence you have is the Browning. That hardly seems to justify first degree. You don't have a motive on Mrs. Taggart's part, and the only crime you have the remotest link to is the death of Leonard Kaufmann, which was the result of a traffic accident."

  "Ballistics has determined that the same weapon was used in all of the shootings."

  "From this Browning?" Harriett asked, looking at the evidence inventory sheet in front of her.

  "The shells all came from the same lot as the ones found at the Taggart home. Ballistics confirmed that this Browning left the markings on the shell casings found at each scene."

  "I'm afraid no matter which way I look at this case, Mr. Lassiter, unless you're able to prove my client's intent, I don't see anything better than voluntary manslaughter here. There's absolutely nothing here to infer her intent."

  "That's ridiculous!" Lassiter huffed.

  "The hammer marks on the shells may be consistent with a Browning, but my expert tells me that the hammer marks are inconclusive and could have been made by any Browning in Dallas County or beyond," Harriett lied. "Can I assume you will be introducing the business end of the bullets allegedly fired by my client?"

  Lassiter didn't answer for a moment. "We were only able to recover one of those."

  "And where was it found?"

  "Lodged in a telephone pole at the scene of the Kaufmann death."

  "Have your forensic people estimated how long it might have been in the pole, or were you planning to make an educated guess?"

  "They believe it was introduced to the pole recently."

  "I'm not interested in what they believe, Mr. Lassiter, only in what they know for a fact. And a fact that I know is that none of the people who died or were injured were shot. All of their injuries were the result of traffic accidents, many of which happen in Dallas every day."

  "And their accidents were caused by your client firing at their vehicles as they drove down the highway, making her actions the proximate cause of their deaths."

  "But that, if proven, would only demonstrate reckless disregard, which is still not murder one. My client didn't know any of the victims of the accidents and had absolutely no motive whatsoever to harm any of them."

  "The recovered bullet was fired from the Taggart's Browning. And that, Ms. Markham, is not a guess. It's a fact. And by the way, you might want to know that Mrs. Taggart has been identified by the owner of a gun shop in Burleson. He sold her the ammunition for the Browning and remembered her because of the uniqueness of those particular shells."

  Harriett hadn't expected this new revelation, but tried not to look surprised.

  "I don't see a mention of that on my disclosure sheet. Slip your mind?" she asked.

 
; "It came to our attention after you received those papers. You would have gotten an official notification tomorrow."

  "Anything else happen to pop up unexpectedly that you'd like to tell me about?" Harriett asked. "I advise you not to make those omissions a habit."

  "We'll continue to strengthen our case against Mrs. Taggart up to the trial date. If that doesn't meet your agenda, I don't see that as my problem," Lassiter shrugged.

  "You only have one witness who may or may not have seen the most recent shooting. A Mrs. Emma Sanchez, age sixty-seven."

  "She observed your client with a rifle at the Kaufmann scene."

  "Has she picked Mrs. Taggart from a line-up?"

  "She made a tentative identification of both Mrs. Taggart and her vehicle."

  "A dark blue, or possibly black, Ford Taurus." She read from the paperwork in front of her. "Probably aren't more than several thousand of those in and around the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex."

  "With a partial plate."

  "All you have is the first three letters, which make up only one of the DMV codes for Dallas County. How could you possibly have narrowed down thousands of vehicles, most of whose plates begin with those letters, to Mrs. Taggart? That's a leap in deductive reasoning that would have required a crystal ball," Harriett said flatly.

  "It's the result of good police work," James Riley said from behind Harriett.

  She turned her head to look at Detective Riley. He looked much older, but his eyes told her that he hadn't forgotten Ashley Lawrence.

  "What's he doing here?" Riley asked, looking at Wayne.

  "Mr. Graham has been hired as an investigator by the defense," Harriett said as she stood up, ready for a confrontation with Riley.

  "Well, he ain't gonna find any technical loopholes in this case like he did in the Wilkes case," Riley sneered.

  Harriett hadn't expected the Wilkes case to become a part of the discussion so quickly, and the mention of it touched a nerve that was still raw.

  "If you'd done your job the right way back then, Wilkes wouldn't have gotten out to kill again," Wayne said as he, too, stood up to face Riley. "You still not willing to take responsibility for your own stupidity, Riley?"

  Riley stepped toward Wayne.

  "That's enough!" Lassiter said loudly. "Let's pay attention to what we're doing here. You two can settle your private problems later."