“I’m giving you all I can give you.”
“Then you’re not giving me anything. I can’t do a damn thing with ‘you don’t think Harker got a fair trial’ and you know it. First you say you don’t think Harker was guilty and then you say you don’t think he got a fair trial. That isn’t the same thing. He got a fair trial as far as I’m concerned. Do you know if he’s not guilty? Give me what you have, or I can’t do anything.”
“I gave you what I can. I don’t think he got a fair trial. Look, I have an attorney-client privilege responsibility with Foster. I’m already stepping over the line. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a good reason and if this ever gets back to me I won’t be able to explain it. I’m counting on your word.”
“You got my word but you didn’t give me shit in return. All you did was come in here and tell me you don’t think Harker’s guilty because you don’t think he got a fair trial. Harker’s dead. Case over.”
Carter got up to leave. “Some cases are never over, Matt. I’m sorry about coming here. It was the best I could do. I only came here because I consider us friends. But you need to read between the lines. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a good reason. You and I have different jobs. I’m trying to help you do yours.” He tapped the file with Foster’s name on it. “The case isn’t over.”
Jamison stood up behind his desk. “Yes, Paul, it is.”
Carter stood silent for a few seconds, a pained expression on his face as he appeared to debate with himself about saying anything else. “I’m probably going to regret this, but I can’t sleep at night. Frankly I don’t know what the hell to do. I get told the worst shit by people and I sit next to them and defend them and never share anything because that’s my job. And if I get them acquitted I walk out the door, have a drink, and then pick up the next file.” Carter hesitated, indecision still written on his face, and then spoke emphatically. “I’m not going to do you any favor, Matt. The investigation reports in this case show there were multiple Foster interviews before he gave up Harker, right?”
“That’s right.”
Carter took a deep breath. “There was another interview that’s not in the file.”
Jamison sat back down. “What do you mean there’s another one? Have you seen one? Is that what’s in Foster’s file?”
“No, I haven’t seen one but you’ll have to trust me. I know there was another one and it isn’t in the reports. And I know what should be in it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Matt, I’ve already crossed the line. I’m telling you, I don’t know if Harker did it but I do know he didn’t get a fair trial. If he did it, then I’m not going to lose any more sleep over it. He got what he deserved. But if he didn’t, then I can’t make it right. Only you can.”
Chapter 39
It was a long night. Jamison kept thinking about what Paul Carter told him. If there was another interview there was no report about it in the file. At first, he’d pushed Carter’s statement out of his mind, but he knew there was only one place he could have gotten information about an additional interview. It was either in his father’s notes about what Foster told him or Foster had told Carter that there was another interview. Either way it was privileged information that Carter couldn’t disclose. Jamison felt some guilt for his sharpness with Carter. It wasn’t simply because Carter didn’t give him anything. It was because he was still uneasy about what had happened in court with Harker screaming he was innocent. Carter’s words had only fed that uneasiness. Maybe O’Hara was right and he should ignore it, but there was something about the whole scene that nagged at him. After tossing and turning he finally fell into fitful sleep. He left his apartment the next morning having made a decision.
As he walked into the district attorney office, Jamison headed directly for O’Hara’s office. As usual, O’Hara’s feet were up on his desk as he read a police report. The stale smell of cigar smoke permeated the office. The first thing O’Hara said when he saw Jamison was, “You look like hell. You didn’t get any sleep, did you? I hope it was because of a woman and not because of Harker. He doesn’t deserve you losing sleep over him.” As usual, O’Hara’s lack of sympathy was unvarnished and direct.
Jamison ignored the comment. “Where’s Clarence Foster? Is he still at the jail?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to talk to him. That’s why.” Jamison’s tone wasn’t deferential, but O’Hara didn’t react to that. O’Hara’s lower lip pulled in the bottom of his mustache, a tendency the investigator had when he was thinking. He repeated his question. “Why?” Jamison didn’t answer.
O’Hara took his feet down from his desk and swiveled his chair to face Jamison. Unlike his usual gruffness, O’Hara’s voice took on a serious, paternalistic tone. “Matt, you need to listen to me. Nothing good can come of this. Rumors are all over the place that Gage is going to name you the heir apparent when he moves up the ladder. Asking questions is just going to set everyone on edge. The case is over. Let it go.”
“Paul Carter came to see me yesterday. He told me there was another interview with Foster that isn’t in the file or the reports. I need to know.”
O’Hara lurched forward in his chair, moving his face close to Jamison. “No, you don’t need to know. What the hell good is it now? Harker’s dead. He killed that woman and now you’re going to kill your career over that piece of shit?” O’Hara stared at Jamison, disgust written on his face. “You’re going to do this with me or without me, aren’t you?”
“If you won’t do it, then I’ll get Ernie and if he won’t do it, then I’ll do it myself. Now where’s Foster?”
“He’s back at Corcoran Prison. As soon as the case was over he was screaming to be sent back.” Most people who were pulled out of prison and brought to local jails wanted to go back as soon as possible, preferring the prison to jail facilities.
The ride to Corcoran was mostly silent. O’Hara occasionally glanced over at Jamison and shook his head just enough so that Jamison would notice the disapproval. Jamison ignored it and kept scribbling notes on his legal pad. He only looked up when they stopped at the gate and were waved through after O’Hara flashed his badge.
Foster was already sitting in the visitors’ room when Jamison and O’Hara walked in. His sullen expression telegraphed that he wasn’t happy to see either man. Foster clench and unclenched his handcuffed hands, stretching the snake tattoo on the back of his right hand. The way he did it made the snake look like it was moving. He waited until one of them spoke first. It was Jamison. He didn’t mince any words. “How many interviews did you give to Gage, Jensen, and Cleary?”
“Where’s my lawyer? I don’t have to talk to you and I already know about Harker so why are you here?”
Jamison slammed his hand on the metal table separating him from Foster. “I’m here because I have a question and I want an answer. Your lawyer isn’t here and nothing you say to me is usable in court. There’s no tape recorder going. I need you to do the right thing. Just answer my question.”
Foster tilted his head to the side, making a sucking sound with his teeth, his eyes never leaving Jamison. “I already did the right thing.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Foster started standing. “It means what I said. Why are you really here? I may be in the joint but I’m not stupid. Why do you give a shit about any of this? It’s over.”
“Because I think there was an interview with you I haven’t seen and I want to know if that’s true.”
“What do I get if I talk to you?” The expression on Foster’s face was unreadable.
O’Hara reached in, grabbed the front of Foster’s shirt and pulled, smashing Foster’s chest so hard into the edge of the steel table that it moved. “You’ll get your reward in heaven, asshole. Now answer the man’s questions. I know people in here too. Do you feel me? Now quit fucking around. Answer the man’s question.”
Foster no longer looked at Jamison, his eyes never wa
vering from O’Hara, but they didn’t show either hatred or fear, just recognition of who he was really dealing with. “There were lots of interviews.”
Jamison leaned in closer to Foster’s face. “Before you identified Harker did you ever say anything about Sample or anyone else?” It was a shot in the dark.
“I told that DA Gage and the dickhead Cleary, the one that’s now a judge, that I was so fucked up I didn’t remember any of it. I told them that. They told me if I didn’t cooperate that I would get the gas. They kept shoving Harker’s picture in my face, so I told them it was him. I didn’t know what happened, but I was sure I was there. They had my fingerprints and told me the neighbors said I was the one. I was loaded. They asked me so many questions I figured out what happened from what they asked about, so I just laid it out like I figured they wanted to hear. I just knew it wasn’t me. I may not be much but drunk or sober I never hurt no woman. I just wanted them off my ass, man.”
Jamison sat back in his chair. “You’re telling us that you told them you didn’t know who did it?”
“Yeah, I told them that.”
“Was the tape recorder running?”
“The man had that thing runnin’ all the time. Then they shut it off when I kept tellin’ ‘em I didn’t know, and they put me back in a cell and told me to think about it. They did that to me two times and that guy Cleary came to my holding cell each time and told me to think about it real hard. He’s the one that said I’d be sniffin’ gas with Harker unless I remembered what happened. Said we’d be sittin’ next to each other in the greenroom so we could both hear the gas hiss. So, I remembered what happened the way they wanted it. Big shot judge now but he’s a real prick.”
O’Hara asked, “Did you ever sit in the back of a patrol car with Harker while you were wearing a wire?”
“What difference does that make now?”
“Because I asked.” O’Hara’s voice was edged with menace that wasn’t lost on Foster.
“Yeah, he asked me why I lied about him and I told him that I just said what they wanted to hear. Dog-eat-dog. I’m not proud of it, man, but Harker’s dead. Nothin’ you can do about that. Dead is dead. Why you keep askin’ me about this?”
All of a sudden Foster leaned back in his chair, a sly smile of satisfaction crept across his face. He looked like a vulture that just discovered something dead. He turned toward Jamison. “You want to know if I told your daddy that, don’t you?” Foster let out a harsh laugh. “Well yes, I did. I’ll throw that in for free seein’ as how you and I have kind of a father-son relationship and all, your daddy and me and now you and me.”
Foster stood up and banged on the door for the guard. “Now, I got nothin’ else to say. I told you I did the right thing.” As the guard opened the door and waved Foster back inside, Foster turned again to Jamison. “Your daddy did what he had to do. So did I. You remember that.”
Chapter 40
O’Hara drove about ten minutes before either man talked about Foster’s allegations. The reasons for each man’s silence were different but the bottom line was the same. Finally, Jamison broke the quiet. “If Foster’s telling the truth, then Gage, Cleary, and Jensen all knew that Foster’s statements weren’t worth a rat’s ass in court if it came out that he had told them over and over that he was loaded and couldn’t identify anybody.” There was a gap before he finished his thought. “And my father knew it. He let Foster testify anyway. Why would he do that?”
O’Hara took one hand off the wheel and rubbed his mustache, giving a guttural sigh. “Maybe your old man knew it and maybe he didn’t. But why Jensen and Gage might do it isn’t hard to figure out. They were convinced they had the right guy. When you’re a cop you focus on proving that a specific person is the crook. Sometimes you’re so convinced you’re right that you overlook things that should be a red light. You don’t want the bad guy to get away and you just pile on. Without Foster, all they had was that little girl. They knew Sample didn’t do it and they didn’t want Harker to get away with it. If it ever came out in court that Foster had told them repeatedly that he didn’t know who did it, then there’s no way a jury would have just relied on the testimony of someone who was three when this happened.”
O’Hara took his eyes off the road momentarily and glanced at Jamison. “We don’t know if Foster’s telling the truth. He’s a con. Those guys lie about whether the sun is up at lunchtime. He could just be screwing with us. Maybe it’s true and maybe it isn’t. But you need to make a decision.”
“What decision?”
“Whether you want to risk your whole career on the word of that asshole Foster, because that’s what you’ll be doing. You better think about that.” O’Hara spit out each of his next words. “It. Isn’t. Going. To. Make. Any. Difference. Don’t you get it? Even if you’re right it won’t accomplish anything except destroying your career. Harker’s dead. You can’t make this kind of allegation without proof and you sure as hell can’t rely on Foster’s word.”
“Unless there’s a tape.”
O’Hara’s voice thundered. “Unless there’s a tape? Are you fuckin’ crazy? Even if Gage, Jensen, and Cleary did what Foster said, there isn’t any recording now, if there ever was. It would disappear like the eighteen-minute gap on the Nixon tape. Those guys would have destroyed it.”
“Why?” Seeing O’Hara’s expression of incredulity, Jamison uttered what he was thinking. “I mean, they could have just not made a report or gotten rid of the transcript.”
O’Hara finished the thought. “And then left the tape lying around in the evidence file? Well, I’m betting it isn’t in the evidence file.”
“We don’t know that. We didn’t listen to it. We just looked at the transcripts of Foster’s statements. The only tape I listened to was Christine’s.” Neither man spoke as they sped by dusty fields on either side of the road. Finally, as they neared the city Jamison said, “Look, Bill. I get what you’re saying. But I also know that I kept a lot of evidence out with objections because it was not in my interests to let it come in. I wouldn’t give Foster immunity not just because I didn’t know what he was going to say, but also because I figured he would just come in with some bullshit that he lied because he had nothing to lose. And I did the same thing with Christine’s testimony to undermine it. I didn’t believe any of it. But what if it’s true? I have to know if I did the right thing—and I need to know if my father did the right thing.”
Neither man spoke the rest of the way to the office.
O’Hara walked down the aisles of the sheriff’s records room until he reached the right case number, then rummaged through the boxes of evidence in the Harker case. There were tapes with Christine’s name on them and tapes with Foster’s name. He pulled Foster’s out and logged them on the sheet attached to the box used to keep track of any evidence checked out. He spent the afternoon listening to the tape while he read the transcripts. There was no tape like Foster described and no report. If it ever existed it wasn’t there and he doubted that it ever existed. He walked over to Jamison’s office.
“No tape like Foster described, Boss.”
“That doesn’t mean there wasn’t a tape.”
O’Hara was exasperated. “Maybe, but it does mean that there’s nothing but Foster’s word and all the tapes are consistent with the transcripts. You need to let this go.”
“There’s something in my father’s case file on Foster that makes Paul Carter think there was another interview.”
“It could just be a note he made of the same crap Foster told us. We’re at the end of the line on this and you need to let it drop or you’re going to get buried in some con’s bullshit.”
Jamison nodded absently. O’Hara was right. He needed to push it out of his mind. There was nothing there.
O’Hara walked back to his office. Regardless of what he’d said to Jamison, Foster’s story troubled him more than he let on. He wasn’t easy to con and he had an almost uncanny ability to read when he was being lied to. T
hat thought was still burrowing in the back of his mind. If Foster was lying, he hadn’t seen it. There was one more thing he could check. He doubted it would do any good but if it came back to bite him in the ass at least he could say Jamison had nothing to do with it.
It had been years since he had been to Margaret Campos’s home, but it didn’t look any different. The yard was neat and tidy with rows of flowers planted at the edge of the lawn. He knocked on the door and pushed the doorbell.
Margaret answered the door and her face lit up with recognition. The years hadn’t lined her face much. She still looked much younger than her almost eighty years but she’d let her hair go white, and that was a change. “Willie, I haven’t seen you for years. Come in and tell me why you’re here.” She held the door open and waited for O’Hara to come inside. It smelled like cookies. “You don’t look any different, Willie.” O’Hara smiled. Most people didn’t even know that his given name was Willie. Only old timers knew that and only old timers called him that. But Margaret was an old-timer, long retired from the sheriff’s office where she had worked as a secretary in the detective division. She was there when O’Hara became a detective and he’d been warned his first day to stay on her good side because he wouldn’t like the consequences if he didn’t. Not only did she keep the office supplied with her fresh-baked cookies, she kept the schedules and transcribed the reports and the tapes of interrogations. It was a long shot but that was why he was here.
O’Hara made himself comfortable on the couch in her living room and reached for a still-warm cookie from the plate she had immediately put on the cocktail table. “Margaret, I need a favor and I’m not sure you can help me. I’ve been working on the Harker case. You remember that case?”
Immediately Margaret launched into a detailed recollection of what she had read in the reports before asking O’Hara why he would visit her to ask about it. He saw no point in being vague. “You transcribed the tapes of the interrogations in that case. Your initials are on the transcriptions. I thought maybe you might remember them. I know you did a lot of tapes.”
Shades of Truth Page 26
