Larry would never make partner at Price, Winward, either. David had talked to Charlie Holt about that. Before his arrest there had been no clear consensus among the partners. Stafford did not have a first-class legal mind, but he did well in matters that required perseverance. Stafford’s arrest had unbalanced the scales. The firm could not afford the publicity. If acquitted, Larry could look forward to a year more as an associate to give the appearance that the firm was fair, but it would be made clear to him that there would never be an offer of a partnership.
The doorbell rang and David went to answer it. Jennifer Stafford was waiting when he opened the door.
“Can I come in?” she asked, a bit unsure of herself.
“Of course,” he said, stepping aside.
Jenny was dressed in jeans, a black turtleneck, and a poncho. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked very beautiful.
“I was going to call,” she said hesitantly, “but I was afraid you would tell me not to come.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said a little too quickly. “I’ve been locked up with my law books all evening, and I can use some human companionship.”
David watched her wander across the living room. There was a fire in the fireplace, and Jenny stood in front of it, her back to him.
“Can I get you a drink?” David asked.
“Please.”
The liquor was in another room and he wanted a chance to settle down. Jenny had not been to his house since the night they had made love. Now she had come to him, and he was very unsure of himself. There had not been a moment since he had seen her again at the courthouse that he had not wanted her, but there was an unspoken understanding between them that made any personal discussions taboo.
Jenny was sitting in front of the fire, leaning against a large pillow, when he returned with her drink. He sat beside her, listening to the logs crackle and watching the flames twist and curl.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Busy. School’s back in session. I’ve had lesson plans to prepare, and they’ve given me a class of exceptional children. They really keep you on your toes.”
“Have you had any problems because of the case?”
“No. Actually, everyone has been very kind. John Olson, our principal, told me I could stay out for the whole trial.”
“That’s great.”
“My folks have been unexpectedly supportive, too.”
“Why, didn’t you expect them to be?”
“Mom’s never approved of Larry. You know how mothers are.” Jenny shrugged. “Anyway, Mom even volunteered to go to the jail with me on visiting day.” Jenny laughed suddenly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Mom at the jail. You wouldn’t understand unless you knew her.”
Jenny laughed again. The laugh was warm and open, without a trace of the self-consciousness that had characterized their relationship from the start. David wanted to hold her very much at that moment. She must have sensed this, because she stopped and her smile faded.
“David, I want you to be honest with me. Are you going to win? Will Larry be acquitted?”
“I think so. The State’s whole case rests on Ortiz, and I think I’m going to be able to take him apart.”
David expected Jenny to ask him how he planned to get to Ortiz, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood up and walked toward the window. He rolled onto his side and watched her.
“If Larry was convicted…” she started. “If you didn’t do your best to…”
She didn’t finish. He stood up and walked over to her. When he spoke, his voice was firm.
“But I wouldn’t do that and you wouldn’t want me to. That’s not the solution to our problem, Jenny.”
“David, I-”
He stopped her by placing the tips of his fingers against her lips.
“We’re both under a lot of pressure, Jenny. I should never have taken this case, but I did. I’ve tried to kid myself, but a lot of the reason was so I could see you again. That’s a very bad reason, but there it is and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Oh, David,” she said, and it sounded like the sigh of a lost soul. David put his arms around her and they stood there, her head on his shoulder, not holding tight, but holding soft and caring.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you,” she said, “but I couldn’t hurt Larry. After that evening…I felt so confused and guilty. And I didn’t know what the evening meant for you. You were so self-assured, as if you had done…been to bed with other women so often. I was afraid that it had just been sex for you and that I would make a fool of myself.”
“It was never just sex,” David whispered.
“Then Larry was arrested and Charlie told me to hire you. It made it worse for me, but Larry needed you.”
“And I need you, Jenny, very much.”
She looked up at him. She was frightened. They both were. Then their lips met, and they sank down on the soft carpet and made love in front of the fire.
Afterward she slept curled up in his arms. When David was certain he would not wake her, he eased her down and covered her with a blanket. Flame shadows played across her face, and she looked as peaceful as a sleeping child.
David put another log on the fire; then he sat across from Jenny so he could see her. She had come so close to saying something he did not want to think about. He could lose the trial, and their problems would be solved. But he would not. He would win an acquittal for Larry Stafford by trying the best case he had ever tried.
What kind of life could he and Jenny have together if he intentionally lost Larry Stafford’s case? Even if no one else ever knew, they would know, and that knowledge would destroy them.
Jenny said that Larry was innocent, and Terry Conklin’s pictures would prove it. Larry Stafford would be acquitted. Then Jenny would make her choice. A free choice.
PART III
TRIAL BY JURY
1
“Nice of you to drop by,” Larry said sarcastically as soon as the guard shut the door to the private visitor’s room.
“Don’t, Larry,” Jennifer began. She wanted to say more, but her courage failed her. Larry started to say one thing, changed his mind, and shook his head.
“I’m sorry. It’s just with the trial starting…I just thought you’d visit more.”
Jennifer did not answer. She turned and walked to the far end of the narrow room. Larry followed her and touched her arm.
“I said I’m sorry, kitten. I’m all wound up.”
“I know,” she said quietly. He had lost weight, and he looked sad and defeated. She did not want to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt, but she knew she would have to.
“Larry, I don’t know if I can go through with it.”
Larry paled, just staring, his mouth partly open.
“What…what do you…?”
“It’s no good. They’ll see that I’m lying and it will make it worse for you.”
“No. No. You’ll do okay,” Stafford said desperately. “Nash believes you, right? He’s a pro. If we’ve got him fooled, the jury will be easy.”
Jennifer tried to say something. To talk to him. But her stomach was cramped with fear and self-loathing, and she felt short of breath. Larry just stared at her, afraid to speak. The silence in the room terrified him.
“Jenny, they can’t prove anything,” he said finally. “How will they know?” He stopped. He was pleading. “Besides, it’s the truth. I told you that, didn’t I? I swore to God.”
Jenny still could not speak. She could see the panic in his eyes.
“Goddammit,” he said, his voice rising, “you can’t change your story now. You’ll crucify me.
“Say something. It’s your fault I’m here. Do you want to bury me now?”
His voice rose in pitch and cut through her. She started to cry.
Larry grabbed her roughly by both arms. His fingers dug into her flesh, hurting her.
“Answe
r me, Jenny. Do you want me to die? Because that’s what’s happening to me here. I couldn’t stand prison, locked away. I can’t stand it now. The noise, the smells. This filth.”
He raised his arm like an accusing angel and pointed at the room.
“Do you hate me so much that you want me to live the rest of my life like some animal?”
She started to cry, turning her head from him, not wanting him to hold her or comfort her. He was right. She did not hate him. She was only tired of him. Disillusioned by the destruction of the love that she had once felt for him. She couldn’t let him end up in a place like this. Not even if he had…She could not complete the thought, because if Larry had killed that woman, then she was partly to blame.
“All right,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “All right.”
Stafford let her go. He was afraid and alone, and he could see the strands of his slender lifeline unraveling before his eyes.
Ortiz slouched down in the passenger seat of the unmarked police car. He had on a heavy jacket and a sweater, and he was still cold. Beside him Jack Hennings blew into his cupped hands, then tucked them under his armpits for warmth.
“I can’t believe it’s this fucking cold,” he complained.
“Tell me about it,” Ortiz mumbled. He leaned forward and wiped a space on the windshield clean where it had fogged over.
“I don’t see why we can’t just bust in and arrest him,” Hennings said.
“I told you why. My snitch said T.V.’d have it on him. I’m not going to risk missing it in a search and have that asshole laughing at me up and down the avenue.”
“I’d rather have every nigger in the city laughing at me than have to sit out here for another hour.”
“Besides, Kermit is probably in there with him, and I want to be sure where he is when we move.”
“Monroe’s a pussy,” Hennings said. Hennings was big and talked tough, but Ortiz doubted he’d be able to take Kermit Monroe one on one.
“If you think it’s so easy, Lone Ranger, why don’t you go over there all by yourself and call me when it’s over?”
Hennings grinned. “Don’t get so nervous, Bert. I know karate.”
“Oh, Jesus, that’s all I need.”
“Besides,” Hennings said, holding up the Magnum he had placed on the seat of the car, “the man won’t be doin’ much wrasslin’ with his balls in China. Now, if-”
Ortiz sat up. The door to Johnson’s house opened, and two men were illuminated by the porch light. From where they were sitting, it was easy to make out Johnson in his ankle-length fur coat.
“Let’s go,” he said, and the two policemen left the car. Johnson and Monroe talked as they walked to the curb. Ortiz and Hennings moved quickly, trying to attract as little attention as possible as they approached. Monroe turned his back to them and opened the passenger door for his boss. The howling wind muffled the sound of footsteps. Monroe turned and made a move for his gun. He stopped when he saw Hennings poised in a shooting stance.
“Freeze!” Hennings shouted.
Johnson stood with his hands half-raised and a stunned expression on his face. Then he bent his head and squinted into the dark and cold.
“Is that you, Ortiz?”
“Shut up and spread against the car.”
“What the fuck you doin’, man? I’m clean.”
“I said, against the car. Both of you.”
“I ain’t humiliatin’ myself in no-”
Ortiz hit Johnson in the solar plexus as hard as he could, then kicked him in the crotch. The pimp looked as if he were going to be sick. He slipped to his knees. A quick look of surprise crossed Hennings’s face. Monroe started to lower his hands.
“Just try it, fuck face. I’d love to waste you,” Ortiz said, swinging his weapon in Monroe’s direction. The big man looked uncertain for a moment, then slowly leaned against the car as he had been told.
“Now, spread,” Ortiz commanded, pulling Johnson to his feet and shoving him against the car. Hennings kept a few paces back and Ortiz frisked Monroe. He handed a gun and a switchblade to his partner. Hennings placed them in his pocket. While Hennings’s attention was distracted, Ortiz slipped the plastic baggie from his pocket and palmed it. Johnson was still doubled over and in pain, but he was doing his best to spread-eagle in order to avoid another beating. There were no wisecracks now, Ortiz thought with satisfaction. No bad-mouth.
Ortiz reached around in front of the pimp and pretended to search inside his coat for a weapon. Suddenly, he pulled his hand out of T.V.’s pocket and waved the baggie toward Hennings.
“Bingo,” Ortiz said.
T.V. turned his head. His eyes opened wide when he saw what Ortiz was holding.
“What’s that?” he asked, surprise distracting him from his pain.
“Your passport to the penitentiary, T.V. Now, move over to that police car so we can escort you downtown.”
“You planted that!” T.V. said incredulously.
“Shut up,” Ortiz said softly.
“You in on this too, pig?” T.V. asked Hennings.
“Didn’t you hear Officer Ortiz tell you to shut your face?” Hennings asked.
Ortiz jerked Monroe’s hands behind him and cuffed the big man. He made sure that the cuffs were too tight. He gave T.V. the same treatment.
“I’m going to read you your rights, gentlemen,” Ortiz said as the prisoners were hustled to the police car.
“You are really a sick son of a bitch, Ortiz. You plant that shit on me, then talk about rights.”
Ortiz read the Miranda rights to the prisoners, then motioned them into the back of the police car. There were no handles on the inside of the back door, and a wire screen separated the back seat from the front. Hennings drove and Ortiz leaned back. Monroe looked out the back window, accepting his fate silently. Johnson slouched beside him with a sullen expression on his face. The whole thing was unfair. He expected a beating now and then. He had seen police lie on the witness stand when an arrest was legitimate but the defendant would escape on a technicality if the truth came out. But this was different. It was…was…unfair.
Johnson looked through the mesh at the back of Ortiz’s head. Ortiz wanted something. He had a feeling about it. Something he wanted bad enough to break the rules. He’d wait and see what it was. If he could, he’d do what Ortiz wanted; then he would wait for his chance.
“Why you plant that dope, Ortiz?” T.V. asked when they were alone in the interrogation room.
“I didn’t plant any dope on you, T.V. My informant said you’d have it on you and you did. Anyone who watches television knows you’re a notorious pusher. Why wouldn’t you be carrying narcotics?”
“My lawyer gonna tear that story apart. You got no case on me.”
“Oh, yeah? When you talk to your lawyer, ask him how he’s going to do that. A court won’t order me to tell you the name of an informant. It’s the law, T.V.”
T.V. was silent for a moment. His eyes darted nervously from one side of the room to the other, as if looking for some way out of his predicament.
“You ain’t nothin’ but a crooked cop, Ortiz.”
“Try and prove that in court. You think a jury will take the word of a nigger pimp against mine? You’re gonna do ten hard years on this, T.V., unless…”
T.V. looked up from the floor. “Unless what?”
“Unless you tell the truth about what that white man did to your whore friend.”
“You still on that kick?” Johnson asked, surprised.
“The truth, T.V., will set you free.”
“How? How you gonna arrange for me to beat this rap?”
“I found the evidence, I can lose the evidence. You play ball with me, and this case will disappear like one of Houdini’s card tricks. But you fuck with me, and I’ll see you in the penitentiary doing hard time. My word.”
“Your word ain’t worth shit,” Johnson said in a sudden burst of anger.
“Maybe,” Ortiz said
with a broad smile, “but it’s all you’ve got.”
Johnson stood up and walked to the far wall. He turned his back on Ortiz. It was quiet in the soundproof room.
“And suppose I tell you what I know? Is that all?”
“No. You tell the jury. You testify.”
“I gotta…I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Well, you better decide fast. The trial starts tomorrow and you don’t have much time.”
2
Afog bank drifted across the sand, obscuring the terrain of the endless beach. Monica stopped, terrified and alone. She turned slowly, looking for a landmark, but the fog had made subtle changes and she felt lost.
The fog lifted for a moment, and a figure, half-shrouded by the mist, floated away from her. She ran after it, lifting her legs high to avoid the sand that clutched at her ankles. She must not fall or the sand would suck her down.
The fog was drifting back and her quarry was slipping into the shadows. She ran faster, the pounding of her heart drowning out the cadence of the incoming tide. Faster. She was losing ground. Faster. She was falling, screaming, flailing helplessly as she hurtled downward into darkness.
Then the beach was gone, and the only part of her dream that remained was the beating of her heart.
Monica looked around the room. It was her bedroom and she was sitting up in her bed, drenched in sweat. The clock read sixA.M. She could try to sleep for another half hour, but she was too wound up.
Monica turned on the light and went into the bathroom. The face she saw in the mirror was pale and had bags under the eyes. Not good, she thought, but it would not get better if she did not get a decent night’s sleep.
She had been exhausted during jury selection, and her opening statement lacked the punch of David’s emotional declaration of his client’s innocence. Monica had watched the jurors as she outlined the evidence she would produce at trial. They had listened attentively, and she was convinced that they were responsible people who would convict Larry Stafford if they believed he was guilty. But would they believe that, or would David fool them?
The Last Innocent Man Page 14