"What's your pace?"
"I'm doing six-and-a-half-minute miles."
"Mind if I join you sometime?"
Tracy hesitated. She wasn't sure if Frame wanted a workout partner or a date. Then she decided it didn't matter. It was more fun running with someone than running alone. Frame was a good-looking guy and she wasn't seeing anyone. She would go with the flow.
"I used to run after work on weekdays back in the good old days. But now I run before work, which means before dawn, when I can, and on the weekends."
"Tell you what," Frame said. "Why don't we run about nine on Sunday, then eat brunch at Papa Hayden's."
"You're on," Tracy said, smiling, as she started to detect the direction the river was running.
Chapter TWELVE
Assistant Attorney General Chuck Geddes reluctantly agreed to wait until the day after the funeral to interview Abigail Griffen, but only after Jack Stamm suggested that confronting a widow on the day her husband was buried might be seen as insensitive and in bad taste. It was the "bad taste" part that swayed Geddes, who prided himself on his impeccable judgment in all things.
Geddes had the rugged good looks of the men who modeled in cigarette commercials, and he walked like a man with a steel rod for a spine. He had developed this marching style while in the Judge Advocate's office during his military service. His views were as unbending as his posture. When he lost a trial, it was always due to the judge's intellectual deficits, the underhanded tactics of an unscrupulous opponent or the stupidity of the jurors. To give him his due, Geddes did win his share of tough cases. He had been appointed attorney-in-charge of the District/Attorney Assistance Program at the Department of Justice because he was the most successful trial attorney in the section. Geddes was relentless, possessed of animal cunning and quite able to charm a jury.
The policeman guarding Abbie's house relaxed when he recognized Jack Stamm. As soon as Stamm parked, Geddes got out of the front passenger seat and straightened the jacket of his tan lightweight Brioni suit.
Neil Christenson, his investigator, got out of the back seat while Geddes was adjusting his French cuffs.
Christenson was third-generation law enforcement and a former state trooper who had been with the Department of Justice for nine years. He had the type of heavy build you would expect from an ex-Oregon State lineman who was too busy to keep in top shape but still managed to jog a little and pump iron on occasion.
Christenson wore his hair in a crew cut, but his friendly blue eyes and easy smile made him less intimidating than normal for a man his size.
While Geddes dressed to kill, Christenson wore a worn tweed sports jacket that was too heavy for summer, lightweight tan slacks, a blue oxford dress shirt with a frayed collar and no tie.
Abbie looked exhausted when she opened the door. She wasn't wearing makeup, her hair had only received a perfunctory brushing and there were dark circles under her eyes. She had made only the briefest attempt to clean up after the mourners who had followed her home from the cemetery.
Overflowing ashtrays, dirty plates and partially filled cups of coffee littered the living room.
"How are you feeling?" Stamm asked.
"I'm doing okay."
Abbie looked past Stamm to the two men who were standing behind him.
"This is Chuck Geddes. He's with the District Attorney Assistance Program at the Department Of Justice, and this is his investigator, Neil Christenson."
"My condolences. Justice Griffen's death was a terrible tragedy,"
Geddes said, stepping around Stamm and offering his hand.
Abbie looked confused and a little wary. "What's going on, Jack?" i "Can we come in?" Stamm asked. Ab e stepped aside. She looked at the mess in the living room and led everyone into the kitchen, where there had been some damage control.
"I've got coffee if anyone's interested."
"Is it decaf?." Geddes asked.
"Not this morning," Abbie answered.
Stamm and Christenson asked for theirs black, but Geddes demurred.
The kitchen window looked out at a small deck and beyond to a fenced backyard. A flower garden separated the fence from the lawn. Scarlet fuchsias, yellow gladioli and pink tea roses created a bouquet of bright colors that contrasted with the gloom in the kitchen.
"What brings you here?" Abbie asked when everyone was seated around the kitchen table. Stamm looked at Abbie briefly, then looked down at his cup.
"I'm in a very unpleasant position. One that ' will make it impossible for me to continue the investigation of Justice Griffen's murder.
The Portland police are also stepping aside. Chuck has been appointed as a special deputy district attorney for Multnomah County. It's his case now."
Abbie looked perplexed. "Why do you have to bow out? What happened?"
"There's no easy way to put this, Abbie. You've become a suspect in Robert's murder."
Abbie stared at Stamm. "Are you serious?" she asked with a confused smile.
"I'm very serious," Stamm answered quietly Abbie looked back and forth between the three men. Then her features clouded. "This is utter nonsense."
Geddes had been sitting back, legs crossed, observing Abbie's reaction.
"We have a witness who claims you solicited him to kill Justice Griffen and evidence to support his story."
"That's ridiculous. What witness? What evidence?" Abbie challenged.
"I'm not at liberty to say at the moment, but you can assist us in clearing up this matter by answering a few questions. Of course, I do have to warn you that you have a right to remain silent and that anything you say can be used to convict you in a court of law. You also have a right to consult with an attorney and, if you cannot afford an attorney, the court will appoint one to assist you, free of charge. Do you understand these rights?"
Abbie stared at Chuck Geddes in disbelief. "Are you being intentionally insulting?"
"I'm being a professional," Geddes answered with unruffled calm.
Abbie turned to Stamm. "Is this for real, Jack? Am I a suspect?"
"I'm afraid so. And you should think seriously about talking to Chuck without counsel."
Geddes glared angrily at Stamm for a second, then regained his composure.
"I don't need a lawyer, Jack. I didn't kill Robert. Ask me anything you want to."
"Abbie . . ." Stamm started.
"She says she's willing to talk to us, Jack," Geddes interjected forcefully."Maybe she can clear up the confusion. If we're on a wild-goose chase, let's straighten this out, so I can go back to Salem."
Stamm did not regret warning Abbie, but he backed off. This was Geddes's case now.
"Mrs. Griffen, why don't you tell us where you were from nine to midnight on the evening Justice Griffen was killed?"
"I already explained that to Jack."
"I know, but Neil and I would like to hear what you have to say firsthand."
"I'm prosecuting a murder case involving a defendant named Jeffrey Coulter, who is represented by Matthew Reynolds." At the mention of Reynolds's name Geddes leaned forward slightly.
"Reynolds's forensic experts conducted experiments in the Franklin home recently. The results were favorable to Coulter. The night my husband was killed, a man called around nine o'clock and told me that Reynolds's experts manufactured evidence at the Franklin home. He wanted to meet me immediately at the rose garden at Lewis and Clark College."
"The rose garden is in an isolated area of the campus, isn't it?"
Geddes asked.
"That's right. It's on the edge of the campus behind the outdoor pool."
"Jack told me about your close call at the coast. Weren't you afraid of meeting someone in such a deserted spot so soon after being attacked?"
"I couldn't pass up the chance to nail Coulter. And I went armed. I was almost hoping it was the bastard who broke into my cabin."
"Did you think about bringing backup with you?"
"The caller told me to come alone or he woul
dn't talk to me. I didn't want to scare him off. It didn't matter anyway, because no one showed."
"Can someone substantiate your story?"
"No. The parking lot was deserted by the time I got there and I didn't meet anyone."
"Mrs. Griffen, was your divorce acrimonious?"
"I don't want to discuss my private life."
"That's going to be a difficult subject to avoid."
"I'm sorry. Robert is dead. What went on between us is over."
"I can appreciate your reluctance, but this is a murder investigation.
How many times have you asked that question of a suspect or a witness?"
"Many times, but I won't talk about my personal relations with Robert."
"Okay. I can accept that, for now. What about your financial relationship?"
"What do you mean?"
"Is it fair to say that a divorce would have hurt you financially."
"Yes, but I knew that when I filed."
"Can you tell us about your relative financial positions?"
Abbie looked from Geddes to Christenson. Their faces showed no emotion.
Then she turned to Jack Stamm. Stamm was hunched forward slightly and he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.
"I don't like the tone of this conversation, Mr. Geddes, or where it's going, so I'm going to end it. Jack is right. I should consult an attorney."
"As you wish."
"What is my status, Jack?" Abbie asked. "Status?"
"Can I work? Am I suspended, fired?"
Stamm could not look Abbie in the eye.
"I think it's best if you take some time off with pay. You would have anyway, because of the funeral. I'll assign your cases to the other assistants."
"And if I don't want to take time off?."
Stamm looked up. He was in obvious distress. "You can't be at the office. You're under investigation."
"I see," Abbie said slowly.
"This isn't what I want personally, Abbie. For what it's worth, I'm sure you're innocent. That's part of the reason I stepped aside and turned over the investigation to the Attorney General. It's what I have to do as an officer of the law."
Abbie stood up. "I'm sorry if I was rude, Mr. Geddes. I'm very tired.
I'll contact you after I've spoken to my attorney."
"I understand," Geddes said with a condescending smile.
"This is very unpleasant for me as well, Mrs. Griffen, but there is one more thing." les Geddes held out his hand. Christenson was carrying an attach case.
He opened it and handed a legal document to Geddes. Geddes gave it to Abbie.
"This is a warrant to search your home."
"What!"
"I obtained it from Judge Morosco this morning."
Abbie turned on Jack Stamm. "You bastard. I thought you were my friend. I can't believe you'd do this."
Stamm's face flushed in anger. "I didn't know anything about the warrant, Abbie."
"That's true, Mrs. Griffen. I didn't inform Jack. Neil, please signal the troopers."
Christenson walked out the front door and waved a hand toward the far end of the block. Several car engines came to life and, moments later, three Oregon State Police cars pulled up in front of the house.
"I'd like you to confine yourself to one place in the house, Mrs.
Griffen," Geddes said. "Or if you prefer, you can visit someone. We're going to search your car, so I can offer you a ride."
Everything was happening so fast that Abbie had to fight to keep from being overwhelmed, but her anger gave her strength.
She looked directly at Geddes.
"I'm staying right here," she said, "and I'm going to watch every move you make."
Chapter THIRTEEN
"Mrs. Griffen," Matthew Reynolds said as he walked across his reception area, "there was no need to meet with me so soon after your husband's funeral. Mr. Coulter's case could have waited a few more days."
"I'm not here about the Coulter case. Can we go to your office?"
A look of curiosity and concern crossed Reynolds's face as he guided Abbie down the hall. As soon as they were seated, Abbie asked, "What can you tell me about Chuck Geddes?"
Reynolds didn't ask why Abbie wanted this information. Instead, he studied her while he gathered his thoughts. She was beautiful in black with a single strand of pearls, but she looked exhausted and sat stiffly, her hands folded, her face tight, as if she was afraid that she might break apart if she moved.
"Chuck Geddes is intelligent and single-minded, but he is rigid. As long as a trial goes as he's foreseen, he does a good, workmanlike job, but let the slightest thing go wrong and he can't bend with it.
"About four years ago, the La Grande district attorney called in the Attorney General's office to help in the prosecution of a complex murder case I was defending. Mr. Geddes was condescending to me at first.
Then, as his case began to get away from him, he became strident, demanding and rude. I had the feeling he thought my legal motions were part of some conspiracy aimed at him.
"Two years later, we tried a case in John Day. He was offensive from the start. Paranoid about every detail. I prevailed on a motion to suppress the state's key evidence, so the case never came to trial.
Later, I learned that he violated the discovery rules by failing to notify me about a witness whose testimony would have been damning. I have the impression that when he's under pressure he'll do anything to win."
"Is Geddes ambitious?"
"Very. And now, if I may," Reynolds asked, sighting Abbie over his tented fingers, "why this sudden interest in Mr. Geddes?"
An array of emotions crossed Abbie's face. She looked down and gathered herself. When she raised her head, her features showed the strain of maintaining her composure.
"I need a lawyer to represent me."
"In what type of case?"
"Yesterday, Geddes came to my home to question me about Robert's death.
I'm a suspect." Reynolds sat up. "He had a warrant to search my house.
They have a witness who says I'm involved and evidence that supposedly supports the accusation."
"Who is the witness?"
"They won't tell me. Geddes treated me like a criminal." Abbie's heart was beating furiously and she had to breathe deeply before she could say the next sentence. "I have the feeling that it's only a matter of time before I'm . . . arrested."
"This is preposterous. Have you talked with Jack Stamm?"
"Jack is off the case. Geddes has been appointed a special deputy district attorney. He'll run the investigation and he'll prosecute."
"I can give you the names of several excellent defense attorneys."
"No. I want you to represent me."
Reynolds looked at Abbie and she sensed that he was torn by conflicting emotions.
"I'm flattered, Mrs. Griffen, but I don't see how I can do that when you're prosecuting Jeffrey Coulter."
"I'm not. I'm suspended. Dennis Haggard has the Coulter case."
"Jack Stature suspended you?"
"I was angry at first. I'm still angry. I'm furious. But Jack had no choice. I'm a suspect in a murder case his office is investigating. In any event, there is no conflict."
"Why me?" Matthew asked.
Abbie's expression was grim. "You're the best, Matthew. If I'm charged I'll need the best. They wouldn't have gone this far if they didn't think they had a case. Searching the home of a deputy district attorney... . . ." Abbie shook her head. "There's no way Geddes would have done that unless there was strong evidence of guilt."
"Are you guilty?"
Abbie looked directly at Matthew. "I did not kill my husband," she said firmly.
Matthew studied her, then said, "You have yourself a lawyer."
The uncertainty that clouded Abbie's features vanished like mist evaporating in sunlight. Her shoulders relaxed and she slumped down, visibly relieved. "I was afraid you wouldn't help me."
"Why?"
"Because . . . I don't know. Coulter. The fact that I'm a prosecutor."
"You're a human being in trouble and I'm going to do everything I can to protect you."
"Thank you, Matthew. You don't know what that means to me.
"It means our relationship has changed. First, we're no longer adversaries. We work together from now on. Second, I'm still an attorney, but in this relationship you're not. You're my client.
That's going to feel strange to you. Especially since you're used to being in charge. From now on, I'm in charge. Can you accept that?"
"Of course. But I can help. I want to participate in my defense."
"Of course you'll participate, but not as an attorney. It wouldn't work. You've seen what happens when a defendant represents himself.
You're too emotionally involved to be objective."
"I know, but . . ."
"If we're going to work together you've got to trust my judgment. Can you do that?"
"I . . . I don't know. I'm not used to being helpless."
"I'm not asking you to be helpless. I'm asking you to trust me.
As of this moment, your case is the single most important matter in this office. Do you believe that?"
Matthew's bright blue eyes blazed with a passionate intensity that transformed his plain features. Abbie had seen Reynolds like this before, in the Supreme Court, when he challenged the justices to be fair to Jeffrey Coulter. A calm feeling flooded over her.
"Yes, I believe you."
"Good. Then we can begin. And the first thing I want to do is explain the attorney-client relationship to you."
"I'm aware of . . ." Abbie started, but Matthew held up his hand.
"Do you believe that I respect your intelligence and your abilities as an attorney?"
"I . . . Yes."
"I am not trying to insult you. I am trying to help you. This is not a position you've been in before. You're a client and a suspect in a murder. I'm going to give you every piece of advice I give to every other client. I'm going to assume nothing, because I don't want to make the mistake of skipping a step because of the respect I have for your abilities."
"Okay."
"Abbie, everything you tell me is confidential. I will guard your disclosures completely. I am the only person on earth in whom you can confide with the certainty that what you say will not be repeated to the people investigating you.
After Dark Page 12