Capitol offence bk-17

by William Bernhardt

  "Good. Let me know."

  Mike shrugged. "That's the law."

  "If anything else comes up…"

  "Still planning a reelection bid?"

  Ben was startled by the abrupt change of subject. "I guess. Why? You think it's a bad idea?"

  "I think you and campaigning will fit together about as well as me and high-heel shoes." He grinned. "But you have surprised me before."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

  "Don't forget you're still honeymooning. These should be tranquil days, filled with love and laughter and promiscuity."

  "Was that a poem?"

  "No, that was original." He glanced over his shoulder at two nearby hair and fiber analysts. "Ben, can I have a word with you in private?"

  "Do I have to?"

  Mike took his arm. "'Let us go then, you and I / When the evening is spread out against the sky… '"

  "Would you stop with the poetry already?" Ben sighed. "Why couldn't your father have put you to bed with Peter Rabbit, like everyone else?"

  Mike pulled him to the side. "I hope you understand that I am speaking to you now as a friend, not a police officer."

  "Am I going to like this?"

  Mike put a finger in his chest. "You do not need this case. Seriously. This is a cop killing. People do not like cop killers, particularly in conservative towns like Tulsa. There will be massive publicity. You do not need to be a part of it. Not under any circumstances. But especially not if you're planning to run for another Senate term."

  "Got it."

  He looked at his friend sternly. "This case will not help you, Ben. The press will not be kind if you represent an accused cop killer."

  "The press assume everyone accused is guilty. I don't."

  "I don't think you're hearing what I'm saying."

  "You're wrong. Message received and understood."

  "But taken to heart?"

  Ben drew in his breath. "I'm just going to talk to the man. I have no desire to get involved in this. For reasons you can't even begin to comprehend."

  "Glad to hear it. Take care." Mike hesitated a moment. "Um, heard anything from your sister?"

  "Not much. A few quick phone calls. But that's good, for her."

  "And that little boy of hers?"

  You mean, that little boy of yours? Ben thought. He still had no idea whether Mike realized what was so patently obvious to him. "Haven't spoken to Joey. I hear he's doing better in school."

  "That's good. Not that I care, but if she happens to come to town…"

  "I'll be sure to let you know."

  "Thanks. I better get back to work." He started away, then turned back one last time, holding up a finger. "Now remember-no underdogs. No lost causes. No bad publicity."

  "Got it."

  "Scout's honor?"

  "Scout's honor."

  Mike paused a moment, then said: "You never were a Scout, were you?"

  Ben smiled. "Couldn't stand the uniform."

  4

  Ben hated how his footsteps echoed as he walked down the metal-floored corridor that led to the county jail holding cells. He had been here before-on one notable occasion wearing orange coveralls, cuffs, and foot shackles-and it never failed to give him the willies. The deliberate austerity, the cold and mechanical environment, and the superior attitudes of those in attendance all made for an indelibly unpleasant experience.

  Of course, that was the point.

  "Here you are," the man in the tan uniform said, as if those three words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ben wasn't surprised. The arrestee was accused of killing a police officer. There would be no kindness in these quarters.

  "Thanks, Sam." The attending officer unlocked the cell, let Ben in, then closed the door behind him.

  Dennis was lying on the cot. The cell had a small table, an open toilet, and a sink, partially obscured by a small wall. It was not the Ritz. It was not even the basement at the Ritz.

  Dennis opened his eyes. "Thanks for coming."

  "It's a miracle I got here as soon as I did. They were deliberately giving me the runaround."

  "I would've thought a senator would have some sway at the jailhouse."

  "When it comes to cop killing, no one has sway. And the police won't make anything easy. The reporters are already gathering outside. I managed to come in through a side door, but I won't get that courtesy again." Ben put down his briefcase and sat on the end of the cot. "So what did you want?"

  "I want you to get me off, obviously."

  "I'm afraid that's impossible."

  "Why?"

  "Because I can't suborn perjury."

  "I don't even know what that means."

  "It means I can't knowingly put someone on the stand and help him lie."

  "Who said anything about lying?"

  Ben gave him a long look. "You must think I have the memory of a mayfly. I know perfectly well you were planning to kill Detective Sentz. And then you went out and did it."

  "I didn't."

  "Don't patronize me."

  "I didn't."

  "Well, good luck convincing the jury."

  "I think I should plead not guilty by reason of temporary insanity."

  "I thought you didn't do it."

  "That's correct. But I think my chances of success will be greater with a temporary insanity plea."

  "You'll have to do it with a different attorney. Don't worry-there are lots of lawyers out there. You won't have any trouble finding someone."

  "I don't want just anyone. I want you. I hear you're the best in town."

  "There are lots of capable attorneys in town. Call my office manager. He can make some recommendations."

  Dennis sat up and looked at him with the same pleading eyes that had almost started him crying when they last met. "I need your help."

  "That's what you said before. But you didn't listen to me." Ben frowned. "What happened?"

  "That's the problem. I don't know. I blacked out."

  Ben took a deep breath. "Was that induced by the drugs or the nakedness?"

  "I'm serious. I'm not making this up." He took Ben's arm and kept him from rising. "I will admit I hated that man. My wife suffered and died because of him. I will admit I thought about killing him, or making him suffer some semblance of what my wife suffered. But that wasn't why I went to see him. I wanted to confront him. Wanted to find out what was going on."

  "I'm amazed he agreed to see you."

  "I was, too. When I got to his hotel room, he almost seemed…" Dennis stared at the ceiling, searching for the right word. "He almost seemed guilt-ridden. Maybe he regretted what he did, after he saw what happened to Joslyn. I don't know. Something was on his mind. We talked, but at that point my memory gets pretty shaky. I don't know what happened except I remember having the distinct feeling he was going to tell me something, something important…"

  "And then?"

  Dennis clenched his fists. "And that's all I can remember. I know there was more. I just can't bring it back."

  "What would cause you to black out?"

  "I don't know."

  "Did he hit you?"

  "No."

  "Has this ever happened to you before?"

  "No."

  "When did you come around?"

  "More than two hours later. The police had me in custody. And I remembered nothing since just before I passed out."

  "Isn't that convenient?"

  Dennis swore under his breath. "Pretty damned inconvenient, if you ask me."

  "Well, sorry, but I can't help you. I should be going."

  "Please don't." Dennis took Ben's wrist, holding him back. "I don't know what happened to me, but surely this only strengthens our case for temporary insanity."

  "Funny how that works out."

  "I know there are cases in which blackouts have been used as evidence of mental disorder."

  "You know, despite whatever impression you may have gotten from TV shows or the local tabloid news, insanity def
enses are rarely successful, and when they are, ninety percent of the time the defendants had been previously diagnosed with mental illnesses."

  "I've seen a therapist."

  "Was that before or after you came to see me?"

  "My capability to function was obviously diminished. I couldn't distinguish right from wrong."

  Ben could feel his irritation rising. It was impossible not to be suspicious of a defendant who knew as much about the law as he did. "Diminished capacity is not a defense. It's a mitigating factor. It might get you a reduced sentence, but it won't get you off."

  "I know. We have to say I was insane. Didn't comprehend the nature and quality of my actions. Succumbed to an irresistible impulse." He paused. "And we have to say it was temporary. And now it's gone."

  Ben looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You're really weirding me out, you know it?"

  "Is it a crime to be smart? Well-read? Do you only take stupid defendants?"

  "Well, no, but-"

  "I want you to take my case."

  "That's not going to happen."

  "There's more to this than you know!"

  Ben stopped, one hand already on the cell door. "What does that mean?"

  "I don't know exactly. That what I wanted to talk to Sentz about. To find out what was going on. I think…" He waved his hands in the air, as though trying to straighten out his muddled thoughts. "I think there's… some kind of conspiracy going on."

  Ben sighed. As if he didn't get enough conspiracy theories from Loving. "If this is supposed to convince me that you're paranoid and delusional, forget it."

  "I mean it! There's something strange about the whole situation."

  Ben turned back around. "Okay, I know I shouldn't do this, but I'll give you five more minutes. What are you babbling about?"

  "Sentz. His refusal to open a file. Why? I mean, I know they have their rules and regulations, but so what? He could see I was desperate, and he could equally see that my wife wasn't the type to run off without saying anything. There was a moment where I was almost certain Sentz was going to give in and at least issue an APB. And then he looked at someone else in the station house-and that was it. He refused to do anything."

  "You're saying someone else forced him to enforce the rules. I don't think we can castigate them much for that."

  "You're not listening to me." Dennis stood up, his jaw set. "I'm saying that someone, for some reason, did not want my wife to be found alive."

  "What reason could anyone possibly-"

  "I don't know! That's what I need you for!"

  "You're barking up the wrong tree."

  "I'd investigate if I could. But I'm trapped behind bars."

  "And unlikely to get bail, on a cop-killing charge."

  "Exactly. I need you."

  "So you keep saying." He paused, peering at Dennis intently. "Did you think if you got a senator on your side that might get you the publicity you want? Stir up some sympathy and public unrest? Put pressure on the judge, the jury? That's why you keep trying to get me to represent you, isn't it?"

  "I'm doing it because I thought you would understand!" Dennis shouted.

  His words reverberated through the metal cell long after his mouth had closed, a jarring clamor in Ben's ears.

  "I've read about you, Mr. Kincaid."

  "Google is a wonderful thing."

  "And about your wife."

  Ben's chin rose.

  "I know she was wrongly accused of murder once. Framed. And probably would've been executed, except that one very determined individual fought for her, fought the system, the courts, the cops, and everyone else who stood in his way." Dennis smiled slightly. "And then he married her."

  Ben shuffled his feet. "Well… a lot happened in between…"

  "I want that man to fight for me, Mr. Kincaid. I want him to believe in me enough to stick his neck out and go the extra mile. Or even if he doesn't, I want him to do it for my Joslyn, because she was a good person, an extraordinary person, who did not deserve the gruesome, hideous death she received." He took a small step in Ben's direction. "I–I just want to know that someone still cares about justice. Not winning or losing. Not money. Not reputations. Justice."

  He stretched out his hand, his eyes pleading. "Will you be that person, Mr. Kincaid? Will you do it for me? And Joslyn?"

  5

  "You cannot do this, Ben. Do you hear me? You cannot!"

  Ben looked down at the floor and fidgeted with his fingers. "I'm sorry to hear that, Christina. Because I've already done it."

  "Without even consulting me? I'm your partner."

  "I never consult you before I accept a client. And neither do you."

  "This is different."

  "How so?"

  "There's an unspoken commandment. Thou shalt consult thy partner and helpmeet before representing cop killers."

  Ben pressed his fingers against the top of his desk. He could see this was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "We have never shied away from taking controversial clients."

  "This is way beyond controversial. The whole city is ready to have him drawn and quartered."

  "And I've also never shied away from clients everyone believed guilty. Starting with you."

  Christina did not back down. "Don't go throwing that in my face. I was framed. That's totally different from some guy who stalked his victim, carried a gun to his hotel room, and blew him away."

  "He says he didn't do it."

  "I thought he said he blacked out."

  Ben hesitated. "Well… yes."

  "If he blacked out and can't remember anything, how can he know whether he did it or not?"

  "I think a murder would probably stick in his mind."

  "No, Ben, that's exactly the sort of thing that wouldn't stick in his mind. The human psyche has great built-in defense mechanisms. When a memory becomes too unpleasant, the brain shuts it out. That could be the whole cause for this alleged blackout and memory loss. Selective amnesia."

  This was a possibility that had not yet occurred to him. A very disturbing possibility. "You need to meet him, Christina. He's very sincere."

  "I don't doubt it. He's probably a wonderful guy, when he's not shooting people."

  "Christina…"

  "But the traumatic death of his wife has caused some sort of personality break. And unfortunately, that's not insanity, temporary or otherwise. That's just a sad case of the right buttons being pushed to turn someone into a murderer."

  "In any case, he needs representation."

  "Right. And since you couldn't come up with a pardon-"

  "Christina…"

  She flung her arms over her head. "Ben, can you not see how this man is manipulating you? First he wants a pardon. Then he wants to trump up some temporary insanity defense, so he can get away with murder and not even have to do time in the asylum. Then, what do you know, he kills someone and provides a blackout and other circumstances to support a claim of temporary insanity. You're not his lawyer. You're his get-out-of-jail-free card!"

  Ben reached forward and took her hand. "Christina, I know you're trying to protect me."

  "You're darn tootin'! Someone's got to do it! Do you know I've just come from a two-hour planning session with Harvey? We're supposedly working out your reelection campaign. But if you take this case, you can forget about it. Your candidacy is toast."

  "I don't believe that. People understand that everyone is entitled to a defense."

  "Excuse me?" She grabbed him by the lapels. "Have you forgotten where you live? This is the land of capital punishment and everyone-should-be-tried-as-an-adult."

  "You're being unduly cynical."

  "Wait till Channel Six gets wind of this. You'll be the lead story for a week. 'Senator Aids Alleged Cop Slayer!' Do you know what that will do to your approval ratings?"

  "I didn't get into this profession for approval ratings."

  Christina threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I know that, Ben.
" Ben could feel her pulse, feel her heart throbbing. He knew she was worried about him. "And frankly, I couldn't care less if you run for reelection. I'd probably rather you didn't. But if you're going to take a hit of this magnitude, I want it to be for a good reason. Not because some bitter, scheming murderer is using you."

  "Christina." He gave her a little squeeze. "I know you don't think much of my ability to size up people. But I genuinely believe Dennis is sincere. He's not an evil person. I think the loss of his wife has devastated him-as it would me. He's just trying to cope."

  "That's not the impression I'm getting."

  "I talked to Mike and got some of the paperwork on the case. Dennis did go to the police department every day for a week. Sometimes twice a day. Trying to get them to open a missing persons file. To investigate his wife's disappearance. And this Detective Sentz refused. Even after she had been gone a week! Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

  "I think it's appalling. But I don't think it justifies murder. Neither will the jury."

  "Sentz claimed there was no crime, no evidence of foul play, and Mike tells me that technically he's right. They have strong criteria that have to be met before they investigate missing persons because it happens so frequently. Plus, she had disappeared once before, many years before, of her own volition. But still… how could any detective resist such a desperate husband? The disappearance of a prominent physician. Someone who worked with cancer patients. Don't you think most people would break a few rules? I know I would."

  "You break rules for every sad sack who walks through your doorway, Ben. You can't use yourself as a benchmark. Maybe Detective Sentz was rigid. Maybe even a little heartless. But at the end of the day, it doesn't justify murder."

  "I'm not saying it does. I'm just saying I think it's odd. Worth investigating. I want you to ask Loving to look into this. He has a lot of cop buddies. See what he can find out about Sentz. And this whole situation."

  "I think you're wasting your time. And Loving's. And mine."

  "But you haven't talked to Dennis. Will you at least meet him first? And then if you still don't believe him…"

  She looked at him expectantly, arms folded. "Yes?" He smiled. "I will seriously consider listening to you." Christina grabbed her coat and headed toward the door. "I am not amused, Mr. Kincaid. Or comforted. Not a bit."