“Jen and I wholeheartedly agree. Absolutely. Better to be sleeping together than talking through a glass partition. You did a superb job during that trial.”
“Thanks. I thought the jury made the right decision. And, it let Jennifer continue her practice without much of a taint.”
“She said the two of you got close during the trial but nothing more. I believe her. I bond with my clients now and then. It’s human nature and more so, I’d guess, where a life is at stake.”
He’s most likely repeating what Jennifer told him. I don’t see him as having that much depth.
“That’s a fair assessment,” Matt said opting for diplomacy.
“Thank you. I have a couple of large divorces about to go to
trial. When those fees come in, we should be able to begin paying you. Jen is bringing in an associate as well so her income will
increase. If you don’t mind, I’ll ask Jen to carry the ball on this thing.”
Matt said he didn’t mind. In fact, though he didn’t say it, he preferred it that way.
He was afraid if Franklin looked at him crossways, he’d knock the hell out of him on general principles and specifically for calling Jennifer, Jen.
Well, hell, that’s all behind me now. A bitter memory, but I’m past it. I have Sarah to thank for that. She saved my life, after Jennifer and old Franklin almost destroyed it. And I have to find a way to nail the son of a bitch who killed her. I’ll start by calling Meryl Padgett. But first, I have to decide on what to say.
That’s how he approached every criminal defense he undertook. Adopt a scenario that would result in an acquittal or something just as satisfying, then keep throwing facts at the jury until they believed his story was the Gospel truth.
Once he’d made that decision, he called her. “Mrs. Padgett, you don’t know me. I’m Matt Dawson. I-“
“I know you Mr. Dawson. I doubt there’s anybody in this state who hasn’t heard of you. You got the woman doctor off when she killed her husband.”
“I … that’s right. The jury decided that she wasn’t guilty. I did the best I could.”
“I thought she was guilty. My husband … thought so too. So, why are you calling me? I read someplace that Sarah Bush was found dead in your home. She worked for my husband.”
“That’s right. Miss Bush was interviewing me. Did you know
her?”
“Yes. Casually. Walter and I had some dinners here for his
staff. Special occasions. You may know — he managed the newsroom. He … he was killed. I assume that’s why you’re calling.”
“That’s right.”
“Why? You’re not representing someone are you? The police haven’t said anything about charging anybody. Have they arrested anybody?”
He gave her a brief summary about handling the probate of Sarah’s estate for her parents and the wrongful death suit he could file if he finds out who killed her. And, as a way to grease the skids, he offered to pass anything he finds to her attorney should it be pertinent to her husband’s death.
“I know of you, Mr. Dawson, but I don’t know you. To tell the truth, I thought your client was guilty and I didn’t like the way you handled the Schofield woman’s case. She’s walking around free while her husband is dead. Just…just like…excuse me.” She left the phone for a few seconds.
When she came back, she continued her earlier statement, “Just like Walter. I doubt I’ll ever get over Walter being gone.”
”I don’t always like my clients, Mrs. Padgett, but you know every defendant has the right to a fair trial. My job was to make sure she got one. I just did the best I could.” He put as much feeling into what he said as possible.
“I’d like to drop by and talk to you? Would you mind?"
"I don't see what I could possibly tell you. The police have been here. Detective Triplett. And you are certainly not going to be my attorney. I’ve heard about attorneys doing what you’re doing. Trying to drum up business.”
“It’s not that, Mrs. Padgett. I am only interested in Sarah
Bush’s case. Of course, as I said, if I find anything that might help you, I’ll make sure you or your attorney get it.”
There was a pause.
“I told the police everything I knew. I doubt they found out anything they didn’t already know. I doubt you will either.”
They set a time for the next morning, around ten.
Matt hoped he’d be more successful interviewing her than the police were. He always was. Well, he liked to think he was.
*****
The Padgetts lived in a townhouse in the Banker’s Hill area near downtown San Diego. Mexican style, he decided in a glance. Red tiled roof. Exterior patches of tan, faux slump stone with lighter tan surfaces troweled in between to give the building a primitive adobe look. The door was rough wood with a speakeasy look-through at the top.
“Probably never been opened,” Matt said as he punched the doorbell. “Looks good though.”
The door opened after couple of seconds. Facing him was a thin little woman with prematurely gray hair which hadn’t been combed in a while. Late forties. Younger than her husband. She wore a stained, off-white wraparound dress tied around her waist by a sash.
She wore no makeup and was not particularly attractive or even winsome; more plain than anything else, Matt concluded in a glance, as was his habit.
By her appearance, Matt also concluded that she was shy and probably for the same reason, had low self-esteem. Wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that her late husband was a cold fish.
“You must be Matt Dawson,” she said. Her facial expression gave him the impression she’d smelled something bad. “I kind of recognize you from the pictures of you in the newspapers and on
“I am older. Decided on the mustache and beard as a way to
start over.”
“Come in.” She exhaled. “My mother is visiting. She’s in the dining room with the children. She came to help out after … Walter was … killed.”
Matt could hear their voices, animated in keeping with some game they were playing. He followed her into the living room at the back of the unit and sat down in the chair she’d pointed to. He turned down her offer of coffee.
“My husband thought you were arrogant.”
Matt nodded and offered an explanation. “In a trial, you have to appear confident to a jury, like you believe in what you’re saying. If you don’t, they will think you don’t believe your client is innocent. I can see how that might appear as arrogant to someone
looking on.” Just goes to show you. I thought I was coming across as honest, humble and confident. I may have to retool.
“What if your client’s guilty, like that Schofield woman?”
“Fortunately, that’s not my job to decide. That’s the the jury’s job or the judge’s. My job is to make sure my client is judged according to what the law says. That means the DA has to present the evidence the law says is necessary to convict somebody.”
She shook her head, agreeing. “Otherwise, I guess, an innocent person might be found guilty of a crime he didn’t commit.”
“Yeah, and, I guess they do now and then.” Matt shook his head.
She stared at him for a few seconds. Finally, she said, “You said you wanted to ask me questions. I have to tell you. No offense, but Walter and I thought lawyers, well most anyway, were worse than used car dealers.”
“I can understand why you might think that. I interviewed your husband. I don’t know if he told you.”
“He did. He thought you were okay…for a lawyer.”
Okay is a step up from a used car salesman.
“I was very impressed by Mr. Padgett. I thought he came across as a very competent manager. And, from what my
investigator told me, he had the confidence of the newsroom staff.”
“He did. They respected him. We were shocked that the
ANN people would even consider replacing him.”
“He said they were going to eliminate his position. Bring in an office manager. Give Wasserman more authority. Sarah would come up with ideas for new stories but would still be a reporter herself. He had until the first of the year to find something.”
“Hmm, hum.” Matt shook his head in feigned disbelief. “I’ll never understand the corporate mind.”
“That’s what Walter said. We didn’t know what we were going to do. He called a headhunter. They guy said there wasn’t anything local for him. We were faced with having to move out of state.” She stopped to sob into her handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Padgett. Life can be cruel sometimes. I guess that ended when Miss Bush was killed,” Matt said.
“That’s what we thought, but Mr. Wasserman told him the reorganization was still going to happen the first of the year. I
don’t know who they were going to bring in to replace the Bush girl. Now, Walter’s gone…” She threw up her hands and shrugged.
“That was thoughtless. In my opinion, he was an excellent manager.”
She wiped her nose and shook her head. “Thank you, Mr.
Dawson.” She looked at him as if waiting for him to continue.
“I wish I could do something. Well, you know something, maybe there is. That brings me back to the reason I’m here. The
investigator helping me with Sarah Bush’s murder said someone at ANN told him something I wanted to ask you about.”
“What?”
Matt frowned, glanced down at his pad, then said, “He said
Walter was seen with Sarah’s laptop before he was killed. I apologize for bringing that up but it may be important.”
“I don’t…nobody could have…” She caught herself, but she was a few words too late.
Obviously not a good liar, like lawyers are.
“Could be somebody came out of the bathroom or something and saw him.”
She nodded and looked toward the dining room as if to check on the children. They were still cackling and carrying on with their game.
Matt glanced at his notes again, as if to check what he was about to say. “He told … some guy in the newsroom, my investigator said, that he was working on a story Sarah Bush had been covering. Here it is. He said when that story came out, the DC bunch would forget her.”
She answered his question. “Walter said he was going to pick up the two stories she was covering, the senate race and your story.
Those are the only two he mentioned. He was a reporter before he became an office manager.”
“You’re saying that was why he brought Miss Bush’s laptop home? To work on her stories?”
She stared at him blank-faced for a few seconds then said, “When the news staff people took a break, they went in the ANN lounge and took their computers with them. Most kept an extra set of clothes in their lockers in case they had to do something on camera at the last minute. Walter got ANN to put lounges in for men and women.”
“He was looking out for his people,” Matt said. “I guess Sarah must have left hers in the lounge.”
“That’s what Walter said. He was going to give it to the police as soon as he checked it for anything that had to do with the station. He was very loyal to ANN even if they weren’t so loyal to him.”
“Of course. But why was he bringing it home?”
“He said it would be easier than fooling with it at work.”
“Certainly more privacy.” Matt agreed.
“He, uh, also wanted to read what she had on her stories so far to get them into his head. You know, get a feel for them in case he had to handle them. Walter said she had lots of ideas. He didn’t much like her, but he had respect for her skills.”
“I gather she was good. But, how would he do that? Get into her computer. Did he have her password?”
“Yes. He asked the staff to give him their passwords in case of emergencies. He said they didn’t want to do it. He didn’t think they trusted him. That bothered him. The ones that did give him their passwords installed some kind of program that let them know when anybody had logged on. Most of ’em dragged their feet so he finally gave up. Miss Bush gave him hers however.”
Once the killer had the laptop, he wouldn’t necessarily need the password. But, the killer would assume Padgett had accessed her files and had seen something incriminating enough to sell. That cost him his life.
“That makes sense,” he said. “I imagine Walter was thinking about selling the stories. Maybe dangle them in front of another news company to get hired. That’s what I’d have done if some outfit was treating me the way ANN was treating Walter. Trying to push him out for somebody who couldn’t have known half of what Walter knew.”
“He said a guy at CBS might be interested in him for their 60 Minute series if he could create a splash with a great story.”
“I can imagine.”
She twisted nervously in her chair. “He’d been with ANN since they started. Walter always put his family first. They put profits first. It wasn’t fair. So, he had to look out for himself, for us.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
“Of course he did. I would have also. You have to look out for yourself in this world.”
“Walter said as much,” she said. “He said it was time to cast
his bread on the water.”
Sarah’s stories being the “bread” he was casting.
“I bet he intended keeping money in mind next time.”
“He sure didn’t want to get shafted again.”
I don’t think Walter was successful.
He thanked her for seeing him. “If I find anything that might help you and your children, I’ll call you immediately,” he told her at the door.
She thanked him. “You’re not at all like I figured,” she said. “Maybe Walter was wrong.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Padgett. I appreciate that. Oh, by the way, if you get any calls from strangers, about the stories, would you let me know? You can’t be too careful these days, especially with little ones.” He nodded toward the inside of the townhouse.
She would.
Walter obviously accessed Sarah’s files and called somebody to see what they might offer for her stories. The killer must have thanked his lucky stars that Walter, not the police, had the laptop.
What’s one more murder?
Chapter 18
Carter was waiting for him at the kitchen table, beer in hand. “I helped myself,” he said, waving it around.
He got in with the spare key Matt always left under the front door mat.
“Glad you did.” Matt looked at his cell phone to check the
time.
“A bit early, but what the hell. I’ll join you.” He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table.
“I’ve quit my janitorial job,” Carter announced. “I’ll stay with the campaign for a bit longer since you suggested it. More people to talk to. Bitch to, really. And, they don’t mind bitching. Somebody may let something slip.”
“I agree,” Matt said and proceeded to tell him how Mrs. Padgett confirmed that Padgett had Sarah’s computer the night he was killed.
“So, the killer decided that hitting him over the head and paying nothing was better than paying him. That’s my cynical side talking,” Carter replied between swallows.
“My conclusion as well, cynical or not,” Matt said.
“So, where does that leave you?”
“Nowhere. I’d already decided that Sarah was killed to keep a story from being aired. I’d have to say it was one of the two we know about. I think Denise would have known something if she had other things ongoing. ”
“Well, I sure as hell don’t see what there is left as an exposé about you and the Schofield case. Do you?” Carter asked.
“No. If anything, most of the people might welcome the publicity. An encore shot at the limelight. The witnesses, the jurors … even the judge. I don’t know about Jennifer or St
one. Jennifer was acquitted and Stone got her. However, I can’t imagine either one wanting the trial to be resurrected.”
“I reckon it’d be bad publicity. So, we’re left with the congressman’s campaign and the money angle,” Carter suggested.
“Wouldn’t you like to know if Sarah was about to uncover something that would get between somebody and their money?”
Carter rubbed his beard, thoughtfully. “Merlin’s got money on the brain. The congressman’s wife, Marcia’s after status. I reckon money stands right next to status. Seems to me like I’d better re-up as a grunt for a mite longer. See what I can find.”
“Yep.” Matt agreed.
Carter finished his beer and left.
*****
Matt went to the back of the house to stare at the beach and let his thoughts wander. The water was almost flat, kind of like he felt. By the time he was ready to come inside, he’d decided to pay a visit to the campaign headquarters and see if he could rattle a cage or two. And, see what came out.
He was also curious about who owned stock in Merlin; more so, if any of the people working in the campaign owned any and if so, how much. Might find a motive for murder. Problem is, how do I find out?
He didn’t figure anybody at Merlin would tell him so he had to find a back door.
*****
About ten the next morning, Matt showed up at Reid’s campaign headquarters in the corner of a new office building in Mission Valley. He was in his working clothes, dark suit, white shirt and tie.
Carter had already alerted him that Warner was on the warpath; most likely because the polls showed the race to be even.
“He treats the volunteers like slaves,” Carter had said. “Hell, they only get a few bucks for their time. Watch yourself if you plan
to rile him up. He’s a big son of a bitch. He has a temper. I may be in the back, gruntin’. Won’t be able to help.”
*****
Matt walked to the nearest desk and asked for Jeff Warner. Like the other volunteers, the young man he asked wore one of those tee shirts Denise had been wearing when they met in Starbucks.
That La Jolla Lawyer Page 13
