by Parnell Hall
Steve eyed Vaulding narrowly. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say you’re gonna get a fair shake here. We’re adversaries, yes, and I want to win. But not if it means convicting an innocent man.”
“How noble of you.”
Vaulding frowned. “You’re not making this particularly easy.”
“I’m pissed off and you know why. If you think a speech about your good intentions makes up for it, you’re wrong. That’s for starters. The clincher is, I still don’t know why I’m here.”
“I told you-”
“Bullshit. Cut the commercial, Vaulding. What do you want?”
Vaulding took a breath. “All right. For one thing, your client is a wealthy man. I hate to inconvenience him, and I want to do everything possible to expedite things and assure him a speedy trial. If that is also your intention, then we have no problem. If you were planning delays and postponements, we do.”
Steve Winslow looked at Vaulding a moment. “Of course. Bail. You got a jail full of minority defendants can’t make bail on a whole bunch of chickenshit charges. You’re a politician, you gotta keep the masses happy, the last thing you need is some rich white defendant walking around free on a murder charge.”
Vaulding smiled. “Nice deduction. It’s not the type of thing I’d tell the press, but since it’s just you and me talking here, let’s say you’re right.”
“That would piss me off,” Steve said. “If it’s in my client’s interest to push for bail, I’ll push for bail.”
“Of course you would,” Vaulding said. “In fact, the standard procedure would be to get him out on bail and stall like crazy. However, you have a reputation for the unorthodox. So I was thinking you might like to go right to court.”
“Again, it would depend on what’s in my client’s best interests.”
“Of course. I’m just telling you my preference so you know if you want to expedite matters you have that option.”
“That’s fine, but I know perfectly well what my options are and I’ll do whatever’s best for my client.”
Steve turned to go.
“Hang on, hang on,” Vaulding said. “That’s a minor matter. That’s not why I asked you in here. I want to discuss your participation in the case.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean your direct participation in the case. I’m referring to the fact you and your secretary found the body.”
“Oh, that,” Steve said.
“Yes, that. It may not be a first for you, but it’s a first for me. Defense attorneys do not find the body of the victim. It just isn’t done outside of story books.”
“I’m sorry to disillusion you.”
“It’s not just that,” Vaulding said. “It’s a problem in terms of procedure. I guarantee you there isn’t a judge in this county who’s going to look kindly on me calling the defense attorney as a witness for the prosecution.”
“Guess you have a problem,” Steve said.
“It’s your problem too, if the judge should rule you had to step down as counsel.”
“I would resist such a ruling.”
“Yeah, but would you win? Maybe on appeal, but even if you eventually do, the case drags on. And it isn’t going to please your client any if he’s not on bail.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “So the bail issue is tied up in this.”
“Not at all,” Vaulding said. “I just mentioned the effect on your client. But, no, they’re not related in the least.”
“So what’s your point?”
“If I call you as a witness, it’s going to make trouble. It could even get you removed from the case. I don’t want to do that. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to expedite matters so neither you nor your secretary would have to testify.”
“How would you do that?”
“As I understand it, after you found the body your secretary informed the butler-” Vaulding picked up a paper from his desk, glanced at it, “-that would be Martin Kessington-and he was the one who called the cops. Is that right?”
“Yeah. So?”
“I can use him instead. Him and Lieutenant Sanders. Between them I may not have to call you at all.”
“My recollection may not coincide with theirs.”
“Which you can bring out on cross-examination.”
“If I couldn’t, I might have to put myself on the stand.”
“If you have to, you have to. I don’t think you will. It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
Steve looked at him. “Why, Vaulding? What’s the catch? Is this tied up in the bail issue after all?”
“Absolutely not,” Vaulding said. “I’m telling you straight out I know the judges here, and if you go on the stand there’s a good chance you get disqualified as counsel. I don’t want that to happen.”
“Why not?”
Vaulding smiled. “You have to ask me that? You’re good. In fact, you’re very good. You got a reputation. Top gun. Young sensation.” He jerked his thumb. “Dirkson hears you’re on the case, he calls me to warn me.”
“So?”
Vaulding cocked his head and grinned. “Well, guess what? I’m good too.”
Vaulding looked Steve right in the eye. He smiled, but his eyes were hard.
“I’m gonna beat you.”
21
Back at the motel things were really popping.
“Search warrant?” Steve said.
“Right,” Tracy said. “Timberlaine’s daughter called, all upset. The cops were there with a search warrant, what should she do?”
“What did you tell her?”
“What could I tell her? You were off talking to her father, and even if you weren’t, what could you do anyway? If it’s a search warrant, you gotta honor it.”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “But still.”
“Hey, it’s not like the cops were standing around waiting for you to give permission. She’s on the phone, they’re searching the place, she’s practically hysterical wanting to know what she should do about it and frankly not making much sense. The bottom line is, whatever the cops were looking for, they found it and took off while she was on the phone. At which point she slammed down the receiver, was not there when I called back, and is probably on her way here.”
“Shit. When was this?”
“When she left? Maybe ten minutes ago.”
“Great,” Steve said. He raised his head, bellowed, “Mark!”
Taylor yelled back from the other room, “I’m on the phone.”
Steve strode to the door. “What you got on the warrant?”
Taylor was sitting on the bed with the phone tucked under his chin and a pad and pen in his hands. “Just a minute,” he said irritably, then into the phone, “Hang on, willya?” He raised his chin, dropping the receiver into his lap, and looked up at Steve. “I got nothin’ on the warrant except they served a warrant. That’s what I’m doin’ now, but with one stinkin’ phone it ain’t easy.” Taylor snatched up the receiver again, then looked back up at Steve. “Now hold your horses and let me get on with it. I’ll tell you as soon as I know.”
“Just so you’re happy,” Steve said. He shook his head, went back into the other room.
Tracy, noting his expression, said, “Mark take your head off?”
“Oh? He been snappin’ at you too?”
“Mark hasn’t been quite himself since he heard the gun he bought was the murder weapon.”
“That didn’t really make my day, either. And now this damn warrant.”
“You’re really pissed off.”
“Yeah. And it’s not just what they may have found.”
Tracy frowned. “Oh? Then what is it?”
“The timing.”
“What?”
Steve pointed to the door. “I just got called into the D. A.’s office. Young guy named Vaulding. Slick son of a bitch.”
“So? What did he want?”
“That’s just it. On the surface he wanted to ta
lk me out of pressing for bail in return for keeping us off the witness stand. Or so I thought. Now I just don’t know.”
“You mean?”
“Exactly. I show up to talk to Timberlaine, Vaulding says, ‘Great, he’s out of the way, serve the warrant.’ Then, to make sure I stay out of the way, he calls me into his office.”
“Isn’t that being a little paranoid?”
“Maybe. But just between you and me, that gun turning out to be the murder weapon’s got me spooked too. I feel like I’m walkin’ through a mine field, just waiting to see what blows up next.”
“Steve!” Taylor called from the other room.
Steve Winslow barreled through the door with Tracy right behind.
“You got it?” Steve said.
“On the warrant, no, but something’s up. The reporter just checked in. He says Vaulding-that’s the D.A. out here-”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, he just called a press conference for this afternoon, so something must be up.”
“Any idea what?”
“No, but odds are the warrant must have something to do with it.”
“Yeah, but what? I mean, they already have the gun. What else is there?”
“You got me.” Taylor shrugged. “Hell, maybe that’s not it. Maybe the guy just wants to puff up his chest and say just ’cause Timberlaine’s got money it cuts no ice with him, and he will prosecute him fearlessly to the full extent of the law.”
“Could be. He already gave me the same spiel.”
“Oh?”
“Trying to discourage me from pressing for bail. Timberlaine out on bail would be a political black eye for him. Vaulding intimates if I don’t push for bail, he’ll expedite everything and generally make life easy, including keeping me off the stand.”
“Then what the hell’s this press conference?”
“Well, I didn’t say yes.”
“Will you?”
“I don’t know. It’s in Timberlaine’s best interests and it’s probably the way I’d play it anyway.” Steve chuckled mirthlessly, shook his head. “I just hate to do anything Vaulding wants.”
There came a knock on the door in the other unit. Tracy disappeared through the connecting door, came back ushering in a rather harried-looking Carrie Timberlaine.
“So, what did they get?” Steve demanded.
That was too abrupt for Carrie. “What?”
“The cops. The search warrant. What did they get?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shit,” Steve said, irritably. “It’s like waiting for Christmas and you don’t get a present. What do you know?”
“Hey, ease up,” Tracy said, coming between them. “Don’t mind him, murders make him grouchy. Just what happened with the cops? It must have been very confusing.”
Carrie looked at Tracy gratefully. “That’s just it. With so much going on and cops there all the time anyway, and suddenly there’s more cops with a warrant, and they’ve shown it to me and started searching before it really registered that this was something different.”
“Do you have the warrant?” Steve said.
“No. Should I have?”
“No, don’t worry about it,” Tracy said. “He’s a lawyer, they like to read documents. Just tell us what the cops did.”
“Just what I told you on the phone. They started searching. As soon as it dawned on me this was something different, I called.”
“Right,” Tracy prompted. “And then you heard them leaving and hung up to go see. Now what did you see?”
“I couldn’t really tell.”
“Then how do you know they found something?” Steve put in.
“That’s just it. They were carrying something. I just couldn’t tell what it was.”
“Carrying what? Big, small, what shape was it?”
“Not that big. It was in a plastic bag. You know, like they put the gun in.”
“Was it a gun?” Steve said sharply.
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“How could you tell? If you didn’t see it.”
“I know. But it was the wrong shape. Longer, thinner. And straight, you know. More like a pipe.”
“Metallic?”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t a gun.”
“Damn. Where’d they find it?”
Carrie bit her lip. “I’m not sure, but I think it was Dad’s room.”
“Got it!” Taylor said, coming through the door from the other unit.
“What?” Steve said.
“The dope on the press conference. Now this is real hush-hush and we’re lucky to get it, but the upshot is Vaulding’s got new evidence.”
“From the warrant?”
“I don’t know about that. This has to do with the murder weapon.”
“What about it?”
“Well, they matched the fatal bullet. But apparently it wasn’t easy.”
Steve frowned. “Jesus Christ, Mark. I don’t want to play twenty fucking questions. Why the hell not?”
“Because someone scratched up the gun barrel.”
Steve’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding!”
Taylor shook his head. “Nope.”
“Of the gun Timberlaine was wearing?”
“Yeah,” Taylor said. With a significant look at Carrie Timberlaine he added, “That gun.”
“Good lord,” Steve said. “So Vaulding’s going to claim Timberlaine tried to protect himself by altering the barrel of the gun. With what? What do they think he used?”
Taylor shrugged. “I don’t know. Most likely a rattailed file.”
“Oh!”
At this low exclamation Steve, Mark and Tracy all turned to see Carrie Timberlaine, eyes wide, face registering startled comprehension.
22
Russ Timberlaine looked utterly baffled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s perfectly simple,” Steve said. “The district attorney just held a press conference to release the information that the barrel of the gun had been tampered with.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does and it doesn’t. If a murderer were going to hang onto the murder weapon, he’d naturally want to rough up the barrel so ballistics couldn’t match up the bullets.”
“Yeah, but why keep it at all?”
“Why, indeed?” Steve said dryly. “Don’t think I won’t be arguing that. I’m just telling you what the prosecution’s going to claim.”
“It’s absurd.”
“I’m glad to hear it. The point is the cops found a rattailed file in your room.”
“I can explain that.”
Steve stopped dead, stared at him. “You know about that?”
“Of course I do. Why?”
Steve closed his eyes, mentally shot himself. “Why? Why, you ask. Well, when I heard the cops found the file in your room, I said, fine, someone framed him with the gun, it follows someone would frame him by planting the file. But you know about it?”
“Yeah. I found it in my room.”
“Don’t tell me. Right after the murder. In fact, right after you took the shower. You found it while you were watching the baseball game and before the cops came.”
Timberlaine shook his head. “No. Before.”
Steve frowned. “Before what?”
“Before that. Well, anything you said, really. I found it a couple of days ago.”
Steve blinked. “What?”
“That’s right.”
“Let me get this straight. You found the file before the murder?”
Timberlaine nodded. “Oh, sure.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Hold on. Let’s pin this down. Just when did you find the file?”
“I’m not sure. Either yesterday or the day before.”
“The murder was yesterday.”
“Right.”
“And the day before was Friday. Th
e day your guests arrived.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So which was it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, if it was Friday, was it early Friday, or late Friday, after your guests arrived?”
“I don’t know. Why should I? It wasn’t important. I just looked on top of my dresser and there it was.”
“Your dresser?”
“Yeah.”
“You were getting dressed then?”
“I don’t remember what I was doing.”
“Try.”
“Hey. I’ve tried. I just don’t remember.”
“You understand why this is important?”
“Hey, I’m not stupid.”
Steve let that pass. “Fine. Then help me out. Concentrate. Think. Jog your memory. You think I’m asking you if you were getting dressed because I give a damn what clothes you were wearing? I’m trying to reconstruct the scene of you finding the file to jog your memory as to what time of day it might have been. A good clue would be, were you putting clothes on or taking them off?”
“I realize that,” Timberlaine said. “I also realize the significance of whether I found the file before or after my guests arrived in trying to figure out who could have planted it.”
“That’s wonderful,” Steve said, “but slightly incidental. Did you happen to catch the bigger picture, by any chance?”
Timberlaine frowned. “Huh?”
“You found the file before the murder. The actual time doesn’t matter, the fact is it was before the murder. That’s the killer. I gotta argue someone roughed up the barrel of the gun and then planted the file on you. That’s tough enough. It’s a hell of a stretch, but it’s still an argument.
“But once you’re in possession of the file before the murder, what the hell do I argue then? Someone stole the gun from you. Someone stole the file from you. Then they killed Potter with the gun, roughed up the gun with the file, planted the gun back in your holster and hid the file back in your room, and all while you were conveniently taking a fucking shower.” Steve blew out a breath. “Now, I may not be a bad attorney, but if I can get a jury to believe that, I should make Lawyer of the Year.”
