Defense for the Devil (20 page)

“They won’t,” Barbara said. “I told you, and I meant it. What do you want me to do?”

“What can you do at this point? Tell the truth? We should have done that at the beginning!”

“What did you say you wanted me to do months ago?”

“I wanted you to take Ray’s case. But it’s too late! Can’t you understand that?”

“All right, today you asked me to take his case. But I can’t simply agree and take over. Has Ray indicated that he would like to change his attorney?”

Maggie was on the couch, twisting her hands in a helpless gesture again and again. She became very still. “What do you mean?”

“Has he indicated dissatisfaction with his attorney?”

“Yes! He can see that Stover’s not doing anything. He isn’t blind.”

“Now listen carefully, Maggie. Have you noticed a pretty young woman with a whole lot of beautiful blond hair in the courtroom every day?” Maggie nodded. “All right. Her name is Shelley McGinnis, and she has applied for a job with me. If I had a big case on hand that required a second attorney, I would hire her in a second. Tomorrow, during the first recess, Shelley will approach you and chat, and she will say how badly this case is being handled. You confide in her that there are fingerprints that no one is doing anything about, and she will advise you to tell Ray to get someone who will do something about them. She’ll tell you to have Ray ask to see me, and to tell his attorney how unhappy he is. Got that?”

Maggie was stone still. She nodded.

“Okay. During visiting hour at the lunch recess, visit Ray and repeat what Shelley said, and tell him that she worked with me in the past. Tell him you asked me to take over, and I can’t unless he requests it. Just tell him what Shelley says and urge him, if he needs urging, to ask to see me. Be very careful what you say. Your conversation will be taped. I’m counting on you to be very careful.”

Maggie leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. She drew in a deep breath, then another. “What else?”

“If Ray says he wants to see me, then you’ll have to come and tell me that. Come straight over here after you talk with him. Maggie, you may be questioned about all this; probably it won’t happen, but it might. It’s important that you act on what Shelley says, that she solidified your doubts and worries. Can you do that?”

“God, yes!”

“Okay. Let’s go over it all again. Then when you come to see me tomorrow, we’ll take the next steps.”

“It’s really bad, isn’t it? Is it too late?”

“They’re rushing this through so fast, they could wrap up the state’s side tomorrow, and that would be bad for Ray. They’re on a downhill slope racing toward the bottom without any resistance at all, and probably feeling pretty cocky about the whole thing. I have to slow them down. I want the state to bring up the possibility of outsiders.”

When they walked out through the hall to the reception room, Barbara was surprised to see Frank at the desk.

He greeted Maggie and held her hands a moment; after she left, he said, “Did you start wheels rolling?”

“Afraid so.”

He was concerned, but he had expressed his worries already and did not push her again. “What I’ve been wondering,” he said too innocently, “is if you’d let Patsy use your outer office over the next week or so. See, I hate to have her working on my private stuff downtown, and I couldn’t bear to have her at the house. She’d want to straighten out my socks and sew buttons on my shirts. But she sure could sit at that desk and try to make an index for me.” In a very offhanded manner, he added, “Of course, I’d have to hang around to consult with her now and then.”

Barbara hugged him. He knew that getting a secretary who could be privy to what was going on right now was impossible.

Then he said thoughtfully, “You realize that if I have to do anything real, anything legal, I’d have to be an associate. Not just someone off the street.”

“I don’t think I could afford you,” she said, also thoughtfully.

“We’ll work something out. Am I in?”

“You are.”

“Okay, about those subpoenas, someone will have to talk a judge into agreeing to an enjoinder for the witness not to leave the state until he testifies. I think I might be better at that than Shelley. It’s hard to take a cream puff seriously.”

“That little cream puff is doing one hell of a job,” Barbara said fervently. “Did you get to yesterday’s tapes yet?”

He nodded. “You’re right. They want to wrap it up this week, and there’s not a damn thing to stop them at this point. They’re making a strong circumstantial case.”

“Maybe after lunch tomorrow they’ll tread water for a while,” she said.

Although she had given up any pretense at cooking, she nevertheless insisted that they stick to their alternate days, and her meals were microwavable. That night it was chicken Kiev, which was actually pretty good.

“Another late night?” John asked as they finished eating.

“Afraid so.”

“You look tired, and you don’t even have the case yet.”

“I know. This is not—repeat, not—the proper way to do it. First and last time for me.” She got up to pour coffee. “Tomorrow all hell just might break loose. And from then on, I’ll be involved,” she said in a low voice. “You should be warned.”

He nodded. “It’s all right. Remember, I saw you at work before. I know pretty much what to expect. An absentee lover. But then, afterward, another honeymoon? The payoff’s worth the wait.”

The doorbell rang, and she started out. “That’s Shelley. Time to go to work.” She left, feeling him watching her out of sight.

“It’s really bad,” Shelley said in the office. “Today Roxbury brought in the Corvallis police and made the case that Mitch was in the area on legitimate business. And that no one but the Amos knew he was here. He read a statement from Palmer, claiming that Mitch had worked for him for the past fifteen years, had been trustworthy and all that. Stover didn’t challenge a thing. It wasn’t even a deposition, just a statement. Roxbury brought in the first witness to testify about the fight eighteen years ago. He was rough with him. Treated him like a hostile witness with no cause. Then Stover tried to make him admit he couldn’t really remember what happened so long ago. It was pathetic to watch him. He was rough, too.”

“Was that the last witness? Was he dismissed yet?”

“Yes. It’s all like that: they testify, Stover asks the wrong questions, and on redirect, they repeat what Roxbury wants the jury to hear, and they’re out of there.”

“Okay,” Barbara said. “I talked to Maggie earlier. She’ll be expecting you to approach her at the first recess.”

The next day Maggie arrived at fifteen minutes before two; she was nearly breathless, from excitement or from running up the stairs to the office, or both.

“I did it. Stover tried to keep me away, he said he had to have a conference with his client, and I’d be interfering. Ray insisted on seeing me, and he wants to see you as soon as possible. He said he’d tell Stover to beat it, and he’d write a note to the judge to request a change of attorney.” She said this without pause, the words tumbling almost incoherently.

“Good. Can you hang around for a while?”

“Yes.”

“As soon as I can get in to see Ray, that’s your cue, you go tell the Amos that I’ll want to talk to them. Ray’s parents and James, that is.”

Her phone rang and she picked it up. “Holloway.”

A man said, “This is Clyde Dawkins, Judge Waldman’s clerk. The judge would like a word with you. Can you hold a second?”

“Yes, of course.”

Judge Waldman came on the line. “Ms. Holloway, a situation has arisen in court. Have you agreed to represent Mr. Raymond Arno?”

“His sister-in-law has asked me to represent him. I was going to talk to him later today.”

“I would appreciate it if you could go there now and talk with Mr. Arno and make your decision. Is that convenient?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Then I want to have a meeting in chambers with you. Three-thirty. Is that convenient?”

“Fine. I’ll be there.

“Well,” Barbara said when she hung up. “It’s starting. I’ll go see Ray now, and you arrange with the Amos to come over here at ten in the morning. Okay? And I’ll want you at nine. Time to go to work.”

Maggie was walking out when Barbara called Frank to tell him they were on, and to get Bailey over there that evening after dinner. “Marching time,” she said. Frank laughed.

22

Ray Arno was
handsome, even with deep shadows under his eyes and a tic in his cheek that seemed new enough to be bothering him. His hand kept edging up to it, as if feeling his cheek for something unfamiliar. He no longer looked younger than forty-seven. They shook hands and sat on opposite sides of the small conference table and studied each other.

Barbara knew he had been in Vietnam; although the war had been winding down by the time he served, he no doubt had seen horrors. He was a businessman, married with two children, the first of four sons in the Arno family, and none of his past experiences had changed him the way the past few months had done. When she had met him before, he had been open, unguarded, just puzzled. He had been trusting, had faith in the system—the criminal law system, the police—had believed in their mission to find the killer of his brother. Today he was withdrawn and watchful, wary and suspicious of her, of the conference room, this meeting. He had lost weight, and the shadows under his eyes were not as worrisome as the shadows that had appeared in his eyes, as if he had pulled himself back into a very dark place with a curtain between him and the world. His complexion, naturally a little saturnine, had paled to an unhealthy, lusterless grayed tone.

“Mr. Arno,” Barbara said, “since I am not your attorney, we will assume that our every word is being recorded. Maggie tells me that you’re not satisfied with the way your defense is being conducted and that you would like me to represent you. Is that right?”

His mouth tightened when she said they were being recorded, and his gaze flicked around the tiny room, searching for a hidden microphone or some other device. “That’s right,” he said. “Stover’s an ass.”

“Have you notified Judge Waldman of your wish to drop him, retain someone else?”

“Yes. I sent her a letter telling her that.”

“You understand that she has to approve of the change at this late date?”

“Yes. Stover said I can’t switch now, it’s too late.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “I’m on my way to a meeting with the judge. If she approves, I’ll be back, and we’ll be able to talk freely then.”

He stood up; the look of total despair he had had earlier, while not erased, seemed a little less overwhelming.

Outside the jail, she drew in a deep breath before she got into her car; it was a cold day with the smell of wood smoke in the air. Eugene was the only city Barbara knew where wood smoke overcame the smell of automobile exhaust. She got behind the wheel and started to drive. Christmas lights shone from windows, twinkled, blazed; a line of cars inched along Willamette Street in a futile effort to find parking spaces close to the post office, which had its own line of customers on the sidewalk. She drove past them all to the courthouse.

There, after parking in the lot across Seventh, she went through the tunnel under the street and emerged in the lower level of the building, where she saw Bishop Stover watching the people entering as if on guard duty.

He strode forward to meet her, his face a dull red, his expression one of outrage and fury. He was in his fifties, a stocky man who would go to fat if he let up on the exercise and didn’t keep a sharp eye on his diet. His hair was brown with a tinge of red, streaked with a little gray. “What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull?” he demanded, stopping directly in front of her.

“Mr. Stover? How do you do?” She sidestepped him and continued to walk.

“You know damn well I’m Stover. You can’t jump into my case and grab my client. You’ve been on the sidelines, coaching everyone all the time, haven’t you? What for, Holloway? Arno’s broke. Don’t look to make a cent off him. You want to start a new office with a few headlines? Grab a little free publicity? Is that it?”

She looked him up and down contemptuously. “I’m sorry I can’t stop and chat,” she said. “I’m on my way to a command performance with Judge Waldman.”

“So am I. I don’t intend to get pushed aside and let you play your little game. You’ve had Folsum acting as your spy, and now McGinnis. You’re too clever for your own good, Holloway. Go get your headlines somewhere else.”

Very pleasantly, Barbara said, “I don’t believe you look well, Mr. Stover. Perhaps you should check into the hospital, have a few tests.”

“You’re threatening me! My God, you’re threatening me!”

“Don’t be silly. Just passing the time of day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should comb my hair, wash my hands before I meet the judge. See you in chambers, Mr. Stover.”

Frank had said that Jane Waldman was a lady, and meeting her, Barbara understood exactly what he meant. She was fifty, but she could have been any age between thirty and sixty or even seventy. She was tall and slender, dressed in a mid-calf-length black silk dress with long sleeves; she wore a strand of pearls and pearl earrings. Her ash-blond hair was in a loose chignon. And her slender hands with long tapered fingers would have made an artist reach for his brush. She shook hands with Barbara and motioned toward the others in the room.

“I understand you’ve all met,” she said. “Craig Roxbury, assistant district attorney, and Bishop Stover, defense attorney. Gentlemen, Ms. Holloway.”

They were all very polite, shaking hands, taking chairs around a low coffee table set with silver coffee service and lovely bone china cups and saucers.

The judge did not waste time. She asked, “Ms. Holloway, have you consulted with Mr. Arno? And have you made your decision?”

“Yes, I have. If it please the court, I’ll take his case.”

“Before we continue, I must advise you that serious charges have been leveled in this office. Mr. Roxbury, please repeat your concern for Ms. Holloway’s benefit.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, your honor. At this stage of the trial, I believe Mr. Arno is grasping at straws in an attempt to delay the outcome, to delay the trial until it is very close to Christmas, when he hopes the jurors will be more likely to be charitable. He has had ample opportunity to make a change such as this in the months past; to put it off until the state is nearly ready to rest is intolerable.”