Chasing Suspect Three (7 page)

“I know where he keeps all that stuff in his
condo. I’ve got a key. He asked for the door key back when we
separated, and I gave one to him. He didn’t know I had a spare on
my key ring.”

“They arrested you in your apartment. Where’s
the spare key now?”

“I always toss my key ring into the brown
dish on the bookcase when I come in the door. I guess it’s still
there.”

“Where’d you leave your phone?”

“Don’t know, at my place somewhere, maybe the
kitchen counter.”

“Okay, they would have thoroughly searched
your apartment after the arrest. They would have found your phone
and taken it as evidence. They certainly would have hauled away
your car to go over it. They might have missed your key ring with
his condo key. It might still be there. First, I need to get into
your apartment. How can I get in? Do you leave a door key under the
mat?” she was joking.

“Someone stole my door mat. It’s above the
door on that wood molding thing.”

“If the condo key is on your key ring, and I
get into his condo, where should I look? I need to search for
papers or anything else that might help me.” The police had also
searched his condo after the murder, but they were looking for
murder evidence, not personal papers.

“In the bottom dresser drawer in the big
bedroom. Of course, anything special would be in the freezer. Some
of my stuff is still over there. I need to get in there
myself.”

“The freezer huh, fireproof and all that I
suppose. So if he had a will, it likely was in the freezer.”

“He wasn’t organized enough to get a
will.”

“Now, you told me you saw John’s body, dead
on the shower floor. But you told Jaworski that you were not at
John’s condo—you were home Tuesday night. Why did you tell him
that?”

She looked away. “You’re the one I lied
to...I never saw John dead in the shower stall.”

Sandy shook her head.

Margo continued, “I was excited and confused.
I didn’t know what to say. I was never at his condo. And I didn’t
kill him.”

That’s what Sandy wanted to hear. Even if it
were true, she had to prove it. She pointed to some papers. “This
police report states he was found in the shower.”

“That’s what I just said.”

“I know you just said it, yet that detail
wasn’t in the newspaper.”

“Someone must have mentioned it to me.”

“Who have you been talking to about the
murder?”

“No one.”

Sandy glanced around the room. As frustrated
as she was, she liked this routine, and she liked this atmosphere.
She liked being at the jail, the police station, and the
courthouse. She liked thinking and talking about important
things—things that had life and death consequences. She liked law
enforcement men and woman who knew what they wanted and would be
self-assured even if they didn’t carry a deadly weapon on their
hip. Men and women who knew they could go through a thirty-year
career and never draw their weapon, and then be shot dead the day
before they retire. People who would put their life on the line to
protect a citizen, and who thought a good day was one in which no
one, including the bad people, got hurt. Each office location was
like a busy little community with officers running around trying to
help citizens who were in trouble.

She also loved the law. She wasn’t going to
make up stuff to build a case. Therefore, it was tough for her to
say, “Margo, I can’t operate like this. You’re not being straight
with me. Perhaps, I should step aside and let you find a more
suitable attorney.”

“Just leave me cold? That’s not fair. Besides
I was getting to like you.”

“Yesterday you walked out the door. Your
instincts might have been right. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come
back.”

“Sandy, please help me, I need you.”

Geez, why’d she have to put it like that? The
woman was being evasive, which might mean she was guilty. Or
perhaps she was covering for her boyfriend. Or perhaps...who knows.
“Look, you deserve legal assistance regardless of whatever you’ve
done. You don’t need to convince me you’re innocent, but you do
need to convince me you’re telling me the truth.” She shrugged,
giving it up for the time being. “Do you need anything from your
place? I can bring you stuff.”

They scheduled another meeting. Sandy gave
her the standard advice not to talk to the authorities or anyone in
the jail about the situation.

“Don’t worry. I won’t talk to either the good
cop or the bad cop.”

“I don’t want you ever talking. You’re not
talking to a Grand Jury either, and I don’t think I’ll let you open
your mouth in the courtroom.”

O
n her drive back
from the county jail, Sandy’s distress began to set in. Although,
Margo Larena had accepted her as defense counsel, it seemed almost
meaningless coming from a quirky woman–a woman shielding a shadowy
boyfriend. At the law office, she headed straight for Martin
reading at his desk. She let her briefcase drop hard from her hand
as she huddled down in one of the two large leather armchairs
facing him.

“You need a little solace?”

“Why don’t I feel overjoyed about getting my
first murder case?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve spent years preparing myself for
defending the innocent against the unjust, fighting the
overpowering prosecutors of the world. I finally get my first
homicide, and my client looks about as innocent as a kid caught
with jam all over her face.”

“Isn’t it too early for such a conclusion?
There must be other facts to come out. Maybe she is innocent.”

“Maybe I can learn French in ten days.”

“So, you intend to be a criminal defense
attorney who defends only innocent people? Nice clean ordinary
people who are just standing around and suddenly are accused of
committing a horrible bloody murder.”

“I don’t care if they’re nice and clean. If
they’re innocent and wrongfully accused, I want at it. It’s like
waving red meat in front of a lion. Saving them is why I’m here on
this planet. I’m not interested in proving a guilty client
innocent. I’ll never knowingly do that.”

“That’s why you’re upset. It’s getting
through to you that perhaps she’s not innocent, and that means you
must play a different game. Let’s say she is guilty. Can you
mitigate her suffering and give her the best defense possible?
“

“I know all that. I’m just feeling sorry for
myself.” She leaned back and sighed. “It would be nice to deal with
ordinary folks who are suffering under a mountain of seemingly
incontrovertible evidence pointing to their guilt, and a state
attorney who has it all wrong but is yelling his head off about
serving justice.”

“And Superwoman comes to save the day.”

That made her laugh. “I’m truly bad, aren’t
I?”

“So this isn’t the dream case you’ve been
fantasizing about. Might not even be a jazzy convoluted murder
case. Might be simple domestic violence. A couple argues, the wife
can’t take it anymore and whacks the husband. I know you’re dying
for a big-time case in which to unleash your energy and enthusiasm,
and run around kicking down doors. Perhaps this isn’t it. Your big
dream case will come one day. It’s still down the road. Keep
preparing yourself for it.”

“Of course, you’re right. It’s just this is
my first murder defense, and I wanted to knock the ball out of the
park.”

“You were made for this stuff. You’ll be
great but maybe not today.”

“I understand. If she’s innocent, my job is
to prove it. If she’s guilty, my job is to protect her rights and
get a fair deal. That’s Criminal Defense 101. Saving someone
wrongfully accused is a hellava lot more fun. It’s a contest. A
battle. I’m on the offensive, and I can attack. If she’s guilty, I
have to play defense, I don’t know how good I am at that. In any
case, I’ll dig in and find the facts. I don’t want the state
attorney running all over her with some craziness.”

“This woman is in big trouble,” he said.
“She’s charged with first degree. Yes, if she’s guilty she should
be punished. Even so, does she deserve to die? Superwoman can still
save the day. What part did the husband play in this to get himself
shot? Perhaps he had it coming. I don’t mean some bull such as, he
was a man therefore he had it coming.”

“You mean like abuse?”

“Whatever. Can you discover any justification
for what she did? Can you find an argument to lessen the charge?
Sounds to me she positively needs someone such as you on her side
protecting her rights. Did you ask if she shot him?”

“She says no. I can’t divulge her comments.
We’re buddies but you and I are not partners on the case.”

“Sorry, I won’t ask anything again.” He put
on a big smile. “Chip came by to see you about an hour ago.”

“He did!”

“Why all the surprise? He does drop around
now and then.” He noticed her frown and added, “Feel free to
discuss anything with me, Sandy.”

“Are you hinting about my love life? Since
you brought up the subject, what are we going to do about your love
life? Some female friend I am...Let me think.”

“I’m not looking for a set up. I’ve always
done all right.”

“Not counting the last one who is now in
prison.” She couldn’t resist.

“Dating murderers doesn’t count. I never
mention them on my dating site.” Unconsciously, he tugged at his
collar. “You know those two police reports faxed to me yesterday? I
requested the first one on the murder. Judy Naegler sent over the
second one unsolicited. I didn’t even know about the Community
Center shooting. Until then, we were totally unaware of the related
incident.”

“Judy? You mean the pretty crime analyst you
had a secret interest in? What are you doing here? Trot over there
and give her a big thank you on the lips.”

“My interest is no secret to her, she’s aware
of it. I botched up the first meeting. I intend to be Mr. Cool this
time.” He gave her a sly smile. “Hey, look who is giving out advice
to the lovelorn.”

“Touché, yet it’s not that bad. We’re still
seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other as in bringing in the
morning coffee, or seeing each other at the supermarket?”

“Perhaps things are a little strained. He’s
been busy. I’ve been busy.”

“I don’t like to see you upset. Want to talk
about it?”

The compassionate look on his face was an
invitation to confess her concern. “Chip used to date the victim’s
sister. He hadn’t seen her in years, he claims. Then he met with
her for coffee earlier on the night of the murder. Got that?” She
raised both hands and rapidly ran her fingers through her hair. “He
met with her again.”

“All right, I’ve got it. Settle down. Where
does this sister live?”

“Now she’s back in his life.” Her voice was
rising.

“Relax. Does she live in Park Beach?”

“Right back into his damn life.”

“Probably lives in Park Beach,” he mumbled.
She wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t know where she was, but it was
somewhere else.

“Why the hell did he feel obligated to see
her again?”

“Why the hell, indeed. Didn’t see her for
years.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Martin.” Her eyes had
been staring at the wall behind him. Now she looked directly at
him. “Didn’t see her for years. I was just thinking that.”

“What’s that all about?” he said, just to be
going along with her.

“Yeah, what’s that all about?” She shrugged
her shoulders. “He met with this Claudia last Tuesday night.
Supposedly, just for coffee. Chip said he agreed to meet her,
because she claimed she wanted to return a book of Emily Dickinson
poetry he had once given her. Obviously, a maneuver to see him
again.”

“Obviously.” He now had a thoughtful look on
his face. “Emily Dickinson, huh. For a nineteenth-century poet, she
penned some pretty spicy stuff depending on how you interpret her
metaphors. She wrote a great one that started,
‘Wild nights,
wild nights. Were I with thee, wild nights should be our
luxury.’
”

“Martin! You know the poem. That’s the one.”
She was almost bouncing “That was my favorite.”

“That poem was scandalous in Boston in the
late 1890’s. I believe her genius was in describing the mysteries
of passion in a very few words. Some suspect dear Emily wasn’t the
virginal recluse everyone thought her to be.”

“Okay, stop composing her biography, and
recite the rest of it. Do you remember?”

His eyes went up in thought and his lips
silently mouthed the first stanza again. He shrugged. “Perhaps
it’ll come back to me.”

“My guess is you loved poems as a youth,
probably wrote a few.”

“I would read poem after poem thinking why do
other people love this, and I just don’t get it? In time, I began
to understand and did get it.” He hesitated, thinking. “For some
reason, romantic poems take me back to a girl I never actually met.
I was in the sixth grade and madly in puppy-love with her. She
wasn’t in any of my classes. I’d look for her every day at recess.
Long brown-haired Lisa. I would compose poems to her. I was
endlessly preparing myself to speak to her, when unexpectedly she
was gone. Moved away I suppose. I haven’t thought about her in
years. You never know which moments you’ll remember forever.”

She let him watch Lisa playing in the
schoolyard for a few more moments, then said, “Meanwhile, back on
earth, we have Claudia calling Chip to return a book he says he
never gave her. Does all that sound innocent to you?”

“No, it doesn’t. It’s normal for you to be
upset, since an old flame came back into his life. It’s not normal
for you to go all senseless over it. What does Chip say?”

Martin was on her side, as usual, and that
was good. He obviously believed her emotional upset was justified.
What would he think if he knew about the racy diary? “Chip claims
the meeting was nothing but a bother. He dumped her long ago and
has no interest in her now.”