Compelling Evidence (13 page)

He says this shaking his head. "So much smoke."

This means that no one claims to have seen Talia pull the trigger with the muzzle in Ben's mouth. I remind him that juries in criminal cases regularly convict on the basis of inferences from circumstantial evidence. "Surely you don't believe she's guilty." Cheetam's testing my loyalty to the client. "What I believe is irrelevant."

"Not to me." Talia's no longer passively sitting back on the couch. She moves her body forward to the edge. "You don't believe it?" she says.

"Mat I could. do something like thatt' Our eyes make contact, but I ignore her and continue with my thought. "What counts is what a jury concludes from the evidence and how it's presented. Maybe you'd like to make book?" I ask him. "On what?"

"On the number of people who are in the penitentiaries of this state because a jury was seduced by a single piece of circumstantial evidence."

Talia's suddenly silent. This comment has given her new food for thought. "I don't think you need to lecture Mr. Cheetam on points of the jury system." Skarpellos has waded in. He's the cigar between the forefinger and thumb of his right end is well chewed and saturated. A small glob of unnoticed by Tony, onto the arm of the couch. I'm .77‐mi, understand how Talia's come to know Gilbert Cheetam. I if the Greek is taking another referral fee for brokering I, To Tony the law is not a profession but a vast smoov,7o.market where warm clients are traded like wheat pork bellies. He acts as if he's never heard of the rule :i., lawyers' "fee‐splitting."

"Besides," he says, "we can make this whole thing package deal. We throw your girl Hawley into the t7pi a big part in Talia's defense. Hell, before we know it a, back with the firm." He laughs a little at this bold I cringe with the thought. "Just thinking out loud, Tony, a little observation,"I "And a sound one," says Cheetam. "I like that. You' iof course. We agree completely‐‐circumstantial wh'tomm.P.M.@ kill us."

X_ N 1 doubt if Talia takes much solace in Cheetarn's use v,A plural pronoun. "Your first assignment will be to gather all the Awo says. "We hit them with discovery motions built like is, Testament, chapter and verse. We get every scrap of DA's got in the case. We'll blitz them. We make a paper a tickertape parade. We keep 'ern lookin', pr can't prepare their case. Then you and I go over .a fine‐tooth comb."

This rah‐rah session assumes that I'm on board. "Maybe," I say. "But first I'd like to talk to VMW Potter‐alone."

"What the hell ..." Skarpellos is noticeably pissed. 41, "No, no, that's all right." Cheetam has both hands up, ‐," palms out, extended toward the Greek. "If he wants to talk, M' talk. It's important that both Mrs. Potter and Paul are *is) I'll with the arrangement."

Cheetarn may be a dandy among the civil trial set, but 171 fool to allow a lawyer who has no privileged relationship v client to talk with her alone, without his presence. I qv)sla@,7 a moment that perhaps this is an indication of the ‐i;q a‐ar, she can expect. sit like two lonely beggars in the huge empty office, its ows darkened by the heavy curtains, which I have drawn. will not look at me. Her gaze is cast down at the carpet. ow did this happen?" I finally ask. e shrugs her shoulders, like some whipped teenager home 'from a date. mean your lawyer. He's a disaster." ially she looks up and smiles, a little rueful. "I didn't pick I she says. "Cheetarn and Tony go way back." ems the Greek and Cheetarn went to school together. Accordo Talia, Tony's been sending cases to him for years. From its of information I garner from Talia and my own suppos, it appears that Skarpellos has been brokering cases and ing fees with Cheetam. I can guess that he has probably been ming some of the better cases from the firm and pocketing centage of the fee. I wonder if Ben knew about this. e question is how to get rid of him," I tell her. r this she has no answer. at badt' she says. ell her my suspicion, that Cheetam's interested in riding ave of publicity her case will generate. I draw a verbal re, a knobby‐kneed surfer in baggy shorts, with all ten toes ng over the edge of his briefcase. At this she laughs a ony thinks he's the best." ony would," I say. e smiles a little concession. Talia's no stranger to the jokes ny's expense that have, over the years, made the rounds at I'm. ut I have no money," she says. at?" ell, you know I've sunk everything I have into those partips in commercial real estate you helped me with. And now Ben's death everything else I own is tied up." hat about the interest in the firm?" )ny's willing to buy," she says, "but I can It make a sale

'til te's finished." hat about the house?" ommunity property," she says.

"I can maybe borrow against alf, that's all. That's why I had to go to Tony. He was the one who could help. Ever since Ben died, I've barely been making it on the money from my commissions. Now AIM, no money for legal fees."

With the widow in a fix, Skarpellos has been busy I.W. his table and playing money‐changer. "Tony's paying for Cheetam?"

She nods. "It's a loan. He says I can pay him back interest in the firm when this is over and ..." Her voice as if she's suddenly considered some other scenario, one a happy ending. We're wandering in the dark office now, pacing like Jr* boxers in opposite comers. "You don't really believe it?"

I look at her, my head cocked, like a dog that's heard a sound. "That I did it?" she says. "That I could be capable thing?" This is important to her, my belief in her I shake my head, quickly, without hesitation. It's the 2 don't believe it. But even if I did, I wouldn't say so ! not 71‐,"

not to anyone. To do so would be to suborn pedury in I 7TT, becomes necessary to put Talia on the stand in her own I've learned the credo of the good defense lawyer: It's to know. "Then you'll help me?" 1 nod. She smiles broadly and suddenly she closes the arms are around my neck, her warm cheek pressed to Ifir‐ "Thank you," she says. "I didn't know who else to There's a warm wetness on my face, like SVTMV@ I n. A feminine hand caresses the nape of my neck, long @i@ fingers. As she leans against me I can feel the point of T'k IM flexing, probing at my thighs, her body molded to MY My arms are at my sides, loose, limp. She senses an i i i t‐@. It's conveyed in my lack of response. She moves away from me now, a show of reserve, a In, composure. "I don't know how to thank you." She's tarmim if in defeat. Her back is to me now. She's rummaging ii@ her purse. She turns, dabbing her eyes with, a Kleenex. et relationship, this is a first, Talia at a loss about how to gratitude.

"Tell me," she says. "What do you really think? What chances?"

"Ask me in a week, after I've seen the evidence."

CHAPTER 9.

I'M rummaging through the house trying to pick up before arah's birthday party. Nikki has graciously consented to have the festivities here at the house with all of my daughter's little hiends. I am dusting the sofa‐back table and my gaze fixes on it, the picture of Nikki and me in happier days, before we were married. I think back to the first time I saw her, standing there next to the campus pool, a biology text under her arm, wearing a skimpy bikini that left little to the imagination. I knew I was in love. I listened to her,animated conversation, watched the tilt of her head in the bright sun as she talked with friends, and felt a charge of hormones whenever she giggled. Then, her hair was light, streaked with gold from the sun, not the salt‐and‐pepper that came later, after years of marriage and a child. She wore it long and straight, Ripped under at the ends, her fingers constantly sweeping it back behind one ear. She cut an image of unmistakable class. Nikki, tanned like a bronze goddess, just a few freckles on the cheeks like the dappled spots on a fawn. Word was out in the circle in which I ran that I was smitten. I would follow her to the library and jockey for a study carrel close so I could watch her. One evening I saw her return to the dorm after a date with another guy. He was tall and poised‐‐and rich. I watched as he walked her from his gleaming Corvette to the door. Then I saw her peck him on the lips, a good‐night kiss. I felt a great weight sagging in my chest, as if my heart were suddenly One evening, after weeks of watching in silent pain, 1 ‐c" my courage, marched to the library, to the inside bridge 7P. foyer, approached Nikki and asked, in a voice that in ision the ear o failure, if anyone was lounge chair beside hers. She looked at me, confident, simply, "No." Then, sn‐ffling, she patted the seat with offering me a place to sit as if somehow I was expected That evening we walked back to the dorms together i* canopy of redwoods sprinkled with openings revealing the night‐sky haze of the Milky Way. We stopped at the house by the bookstore. I gained more confidence as she'0147" seemingly amused by the innocuous little things I said. we left the place, odors of spice and espresso mingling fragrance of cedars and redwood, my hand found hers, and warm. In the days that followed I sensed, in the titter of friends when we were together, that I'd been an item group of giddy girls before my campaign with Vlie library. In this thought there was pleasure, a my long‐laboring fantasies of this golden girl had in F. :ir mutual. Not all of this mystery and desire is gone. Even now, 01 most sensual when she's angry, as she is this moment

"How can you do this? You're a

bastard, you know 11 n" hands are on her hips; her legs still slender and strong, she in front of me blocking the hall to the kitchen, her T771. molded in a pair of skin‐tight jeans. I jockey to get around her.

My hands are filled with of half‐eaten birthday cake and dribbling ice cream. "She's a client," I tell her, my voice low so the 07' 4tril the living room won't hear. "Spare me," she says. My peace offering, it seems, has gone sour. My )iwfrlk@" have Sarah's birthday party here in the more spacious which had been our home before Nikki left me is being by the news that I'm now representing Talia. It hit the morning, and Nikki's been on my case like a since she arrived. "Talia's a client," I say. "Is that what they call it these days? Coulda footed !Tmq I ‐ wrl, thought she was your concubine."

Nikki's not so M, it V cc at full

volume. Her friends, mothers of little children back the other room, are getting an earful. She backs into the kitchen, ds still on her hips.

"The woman is charged with murder. The firm asked me, to a hand in her defense. That's all there is to it."

"You don't even bother to deny it,

that you had an affair with ." She's blocking the way to the trash can, and ice cream is ginning to drip from the plates in my hands onto the floor. it's a tactical blunder. My failure to deny Nikki's charge that onsorted with Talia carries with it the seeds of an open admisn.

Mentally I bite my tongue. "What do you want me to say?" I tell her.

"That you're not going to represent her." ‐I can't do that. I've already agreed to take the case.' "Tell 'ern you've changed your mind.'t

"This

isn't some shopping spree to the mall." Her eyes are burning now, two pieces of white‐hot coal. "Fuck U!"

Profanity is something that Nikki reserves for those ultimate ments of excess fury in life. Here it is said with volume and ensity. I have visions of three‐year‐olds down the hall roosting their mother's knees and asking with innocent, upturned eyes, hat does 'fuck' mean, Mominie?"

"Listen, can we talk about this later?"

"No. We'll talk about it now. Later. I'm leaving‐with Sarah. ant the truth. Did you have an affair with her?" I hesitate for a moment. But there's no use lying. In her own nd Nikki's already condemned me. "Yes, we went out."

"You what? You went out," she says. She laughs. My wife has pecial talent for mockery. "Call it what it is, you asshole." re's a good deal of fury tonight. "OK, we had an affair‐but it was after you left me."

This mehow eases the blame for my infidelity, at least in my own nd. But not in Nikki's. "So it doesn't count, is that it?" she says. "Before we broke up, she was nothing. She's nothing now. It's er," I tell her.

"What's between us now is business, the repentation of a client charged with first‐degree murder, nothing re.11 "You bastard." She repeats the charge, but now she's crying. ere's an extra shot of acid in my stomach.

"We need She's hud a wet dis admission o

"Listen to I tell her me ‐out.

"I have a snmng aw goo down,com tifne to ope a cold. And so w room and Nikki and living room children. S Empty co is in her old playing with

"Regardle kill Ben."

"You're s I nod co

"I see. Nikki's tears

"Years of any more th

"Even if

y

"Sornebod I'm there onl, "And he

"As a ma from out of to mended me."

L Vil., I don't tell like a dying staying an constant pitc spending itse

"But you co o 6 I shake my Mo of I take the time to explain in soothing tones that I've already filed discovery motions in the case. This makes me counsel of record. To withdraw now would require a formal substitution of counsel, or the consent of the court. We're too close to the preliminary hearing to get either. 1f I'd known you felt this way, I wouldn't have, taken the case. i3ut it's too late."

"flow did you think I'd feel? You're rubbing my nose in your offair. Now you tell me it's too late. Seems that your commitment to her is just a little more important than your concern for us."

"I didn't think," I say. I hope that this final confession will kill it.

She sits demure at the other end of the couch, her behind on the edge, knees pressed together, hands folded tightly in her lap, as she drops the bomb. "Still, isn't there some kind of conflictt' she says. I play stupid. "Whadda you mean?" There's a little exasperation in her eyes. "I mean, it's not normal for a lawyer to be fucking his client, is itt' "I told you it's over."

"I see," she says. "If it's in the past tense‐if the lawyer has fucked his client, it's all right."

She leaves me with the ethical conundrum as she rises from the couch.

"Listen. )"en this 'is over maybe we can get together, the three of us for a weekend over on the coast. Like we used to," I say. "Fat chance,"

she says. She lets me know that I've wasted my time changing the sheets on my bed, a hopeful preliminary to a night together after a happy birthday party. Nikki's moving toward the back of the house, calling Sarah, getting ready to leave. "You won't mind if I don't stick around to help you clean up the mess." She looks at me with a sobering expression. Like so much of what she says to me these days, her words carry some intended double meaning. "I can handle it."