"That's better," Abbie said. She turned slowly, taking in the room.
"Where would Justice Griffen have kept his personal papers?"
Matthew asked. "In here."
Abbie entered the den through a door at the far end of the living room and the others followed her. The room was windowless with dark wood paneling and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with a combination of classics, popular fiction, history books, law books and legal periodicals. There was a Persian rug on the hardwood floor and a desk against one wall. A computer took up one side of the desk.
Abbie opened the desk drawers, but they were empty.
"It looks like the police were already here," Abbie said.
"I assumed they had been," Matthew answered as he looked around. "Do you have a safe? Something the police wouldn't have been able to get into, where Justice Griffen might have put something he didn't want anyone to see?"
Abbie walked over to a small portrait that hung in a space between two bookshelves and lifted it off, revealing a wall safe.
Abbie spun the dial and it opened. Matthew and Barry Frame crowded around Abbie as she reached in to bring out the contents. Tracy walked around the edge of the desk to try to see what Abbie had pulled out.
"Stock certificates, tax records," Abbie said. "I don't see anything unusual, Matt."
The front door opened. Abbie turned her head. Barry left the den and stepped into the living room.
"District attorney's office," someone said. "Please identify yourself."
"I'm Barry Frame, an investigator for Matthew Reynolds. We represent Abigail Griffen. This is her house and she let us in.
We're in the den."
A moment later, Barry reentered the room followed by Chuck Geddes, Neil Christenson and two uniformed officers.
"Hello, Matt," Geddes said.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Geddes."
"Mind telling me what you're doing here?"
"I'm Mrs. Griffen's attorney. This is Mrs. Griffen's home.
We're here at Mrs. Griffen's invitation."
"How did you get in and what are you doing in my house?"
Abbie demanded. Matthew put a restraining hand on his client's arm and stepped between Abbie and Geddes.
"I was about to ask the same questions," Reynolds said.
Geddes flashed a condescending smile at Reynolds. "I'll be glad to answer them. I opened your front door with a key that the medical examiner found in your husband's pocket, Mrs. Griffen, and I'm here to place you under arrest for Justice Griffen's murder."
Reynolds turned to Abbie. "Not another word," he said sternly. Then he turned back to Geddes. "May I see your warrant?"
"Sure," Geddes answered with a smirk. Christenson handed the warrant to Matthew, who read it carefully. Tracy was impressed with Reynolds's calm demeanor.
"I assume you'll agree to release Mrs. Griffen pending arraignment, after she's been booked and printed," Matthew said when he was done.
"No, sir," Geddes answered. "Your client is charged with the murder of a Supreme Court justice. She's wealthy enough to be a serious flight risk. We're holding Mrs. Griffen in jail pending arraignment. You can ask for a bail hearing."
"You're not serious. Mrs. Griffen is a deputy district attorney with an excellent reputation."
"Save the passionate oratory for the judge. You got lucky the last time we were in front of one. Maybe you'll get lucky again."
"This isn't about us, Mr. Geddes. Mrs. Griffen is a human being.
There's no need to strip her of her dignity by making her spend several days in jail."
"Mrs. Griffen is accused of premeditated murder," Geddes shot back.
"She's the worst kind of criminala prosecutor who's broken the law.
She's going to be convicted for the murder of her husband and I'm going to see that she gets a death sentence."
Abbie paled. Tracy felt a shock go through her and she was suddenly very frightened for their client.
Reynolds stared at Geddes with contempt. "You are a little man," he said quietly. "A tiny little man. I'm going to enjoy destroying you in front of everyone."
Geddes flushed with anger. He turned to one of the policemen. "Cuff her and take her downtown."
Abbie turned to Reynolds. She looked scared.
"Go with them," Matthew said. "You know you have to. And don't say anything to anyone about the case. Not the police, not a cellmate, not a soul."
"Matt, I can't go to jail."
Reynolds placed his hands on Abbie's shoulders.
"You have to be strong. Don't let them demean you. And trust me. I'll have you out as soon as possible."
The policeman with the handcuffs looked embarrassed. He waited until Reynolds stepped aside, then politely asked Abbie to put her hands behind her back. When he'd secured the cuffs, he asked if they were hurting her. Abbie shook her head.
"Let's go," Geddes said, executing a military turn and striding out of the den. Tracy followed Matthew outside and watched the officer help Abbie into the back seat of a police car.
"Do you think it was smart to insult Geddes that way?" Barry asked Matthew as soon as the police were gone.
"Mr. Geddes is no concern of mine," Matthew said.
"Geddes has a thin skin. He's going to make everything extra hard now."
Reynolds turned to Frame. Tracy saw an almost frightening determination on his face and in the way he held himself. She imagined his body as pure energy, and for the first time realized what a formidable adversary he would be.
"Leave Chuck Geddes to me, Barry. I have other work for you. If Geddes has an indictment, he'll have to make discovery available to us immediately. We'll soon know the identity of this mystery witness and their evidence. You're going to be very busy."
Chapter FIFTEEN
The fourth floor of the Justice Center jail was reserved for security risks, prisoners with psychiatric problems and prisoners who had to be isolated. The jail commander had known Abbie for years and liked her.
When she appeared at the jail on the preceding day, he booked her in personally, then made sure she was held in her own cell on the fourth floor, because he knew what would happen if he put a deputy district attorney in with the other inmates.
The jail elevator opened onto a narrow hall of concrete blocks painted in yellow and brown pastels. The fourth-floor contact visiting room was across from the elevator. It was small with a circular wooden table and two plastic chairs. Matthew stood when the guard brought Abbie into the room through a heavy metal door that opened into the jail.
Abbie's hair was combed, but she wore no makeup. There were dark circles under her eyes. The guard took off Abbie's handcuffs. She sat down and rubbed her wrists. Her face stayed expressionless while the guard was in the room. As soon as he left, she spread her arms to show Reynolds the blue cotton pants and short-sleeved blue pullover shirt that all the women prisoners wore. Then she flashed him a tired smile.
"Not exactly high fashion, huh?"
"I'm glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor."
"I know exactly what Geddes is trying to do. Do you think I'd let that asshole spook me?" Abbie paused. Her smile disappeared and she was suddenly subdued. "It ain't been easy, though. I barely slept. It's so noisy. The woman next to me cried all night.
"There was one time, last night, when I was so tired I let my defenses down and started thinking about what it would be like to spend the rest of my life in a place like this. That's when I understood why the woman in the next cell was crying."
Abbie caught herself. "Sorry. I'm getting maudlin and I promised myself I wouldn't do that."
"It's okay. That's what I'm here for. To listen. To help relieve some of the pressure."
Abbie smiled again. "I appreciate that. When's the arraignment?"
"Late this afternoon. They couldn't hold the hearing sooner because they had to bring in a judge from another county. All the Multnomah County judges have a conflict, because they know you."
"Jack Baldwin. He's from Hood River. Don't worry. I've appeared in front of him and he's all right."
"Can you get me out of here?" Abbie asked, trying not to sound desperate.
"I don't know. Geddes won't give an inch. He'll want you held without bail and, as you well know, there's no automatic bail in murder cases."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to try an end run. Meanwhile, I've sent Tracy to your house to pick out an outfit for court."
"Thank God. I don't know if I'm more afraid of the death penalty or having to appear in public in these awful rags."
Matthew couldn't help smiling. "You'll have to run a media gauntlet and I don't want you looking like Squeaky Fromme."
Abbie smiled. Then her eyes lost focus and she looked tired and dispirited.
"What's wrong?" Matthew asked.
Abbie took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I'll lose everything, Matt. My reputation, my career."
"You haven't lost a thing and you're not going to. Geddes can't rob you of your pride unless you let him. You know you're innocent. It doesn't matter what the papers say or what the public thinks, if you can look at yourself in the mirror and know you're right."
Abbie laughed. "They don't let me have a mirror. Broken glass. It's a suicide precaution."
Matthew smiled back. It was a perfect moment. The shared fears, the shared intimacy, the trust she showed in him. He didn't want the visit to end.
"I have to go," Matthew said reluctantly. "I have an appointment with Jack Stamm in a few minutes."
"Your end run?"
"If we're lucky."
"It's been a while, Matt," Jack Stamm said after they shook hands and Reynolds was seated across from him in the district attorney's office.
"Thank you for seeing me."
"I'm not sure I should be," Stamm said, unconsciously picking up a paper clip that lay on top of a stack of legal documents.
"You know what Geddes has done, don't you?"
Stamm nodded noncommittally.
"Do you think it's right?"
Stamm looked uncomfortable. He unbent one end of the paper clip.
"Abbie is a friend of mine," he said evenly. "I have a conflict.
That's why I called in the Attorney General. I can't get involved in this case."
"You're the district attorney of this county. As long as Geddes is a special deputy district attorney, he's your employee."
"That's true in theory, but you know very well that I can't interfere with Geddes."
"Geddes is using this case to settle a score with me and for self-aggrandizement. You saw his press conference after the arrest."
"We shouldn't even be having this conversation. I have to let him try his case."
"I'm not asking you to interfere with the way he tries this case. I'm asking you to talk to him about his position on bail. You can't believe it's right for Abbie to stay in jail for months while we get ready for trial. I just came from visiting her. She looks terrible. She's trying to hold herself together, but you can see the toll the effort is taking."
"Abbie is wealthy. She can afford to go to a country that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the United States. Geddes is afraid she'll rabbit."
"Only if she's guilty. You know her far better than I, Jack. Do you think Abbie killed Robert Griffen?"
Stamm straightened the paper clip, then bent it in two. After a moment, he said, "No. I don't think she's guilty."
"Then how can you let Geddes keep her in a cage?"
"Look, Matt, you've tried cases against Geddes. You know how he gets.
I've spoken to him, and he knows I think he's wrong.
But he won't budge. What more can I do?"
"You can call the Attorney General. Tell Gary Graham what Geddes is doing. Tell him it's not right."
"I don't know . . ."
"When you talk to Graham, tell him I assured you that Abbie will surrender her passport and she'll submit to ESP, the electronic surveillance program. I've already checked with the people who run the program and they'll supervise Abbie. She won't be able to leave her house without Geddes knowing immediately and she won't have to endure the jail."
Stamm worried the paper clip while he thought over Reynolds's proposal.
Then he said, "I don't know if Geddes will agree, but I think I can convince Gary to order him to go along."
"Then please call Graham."
Stamm hesitated. "If I call Gary, there's something you'll have to do."
"Name it."
"Geddes is going to be furious because I went behind his back. And he'll be right. If I do this for Abbie, you've got to let Geddes save face. I want you to let him make the house arrest suggestion in open court and praise him for his thoughtfulness."
Reynolds's lips quivered for a moment as he held back a smile. Then, without any emotion, he said, "I have nothing personal against Mr.
Geddes. I only want what's best for my client."
"I'm glad to hear that. Now I want you to listen carefully."
Stamm put down the paper clip and leaned toward Reynolds. "I'm going way out on a limb with this. I'm probably violating the Canon of Ethics to help a friend. Once it's done, I won't do anything more. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Stamm stood. He held out his hand. "Do everything you can for Abbie.
Good luck."
The sun was fading by the time the technician from the electronic surveillance program finished hooking up an oblong, footlong box to Abbie's phone. Abbie was now wearing a bracelet with a tapered piece of metal attached to it. A computer at a monitoring center was programmed to call her at her home phone at random intervals. When the calls came, she had to answer the phone and state her name and the time, then insert the metal piece into a slot in the box. People at the monitoring center would be trained to identify Abbie's voice and the insertion of the metal strip confirmed her presence in the house.
A unit in the bracelet also broadcast a radio frequency. If Abbie went more than one hundred and fifty feet from the box, a signal would go off in the monitoring center and trigger a pager that would aler/the staff.
Matthew accompanied the technician to the door, then returned to the living room. The French windows were open and Abbie was standing on the patio, her arms wrapped around herself, looking at the sunset. Matthew paused to watch her. Abbie closed her eyes and tilted her head back, savoring the warm and comforting breeze.
The scene was something Matthew had dreamed about. He and Abbie alone at dusk at the end of a perfect summer day.
Already there were long shadows creeping across the wide expanse of lawn, changing green into black where the silhouettes of the oaks and evergreens fell. On the horizon, the scarlet sun shimmered above the trees, its dying rays reflecting in the cobalt blue of the pool.
Abbie sensed Matthew's presence. She opened her eyes and turned slightly. He started, afraid she could read his mind, and frightened of what she would think of him if she knew his deepest thoughts. But Abbie just smiled and Matthew walked toward her.
"The police are gone," he said.
"It's so nice just being alone."
"I can go, if you'd like."
"No, stay. I didn't mean you."
Matthew stopped beside Abbie. It was part of the fantasy.
Abbie at his side.
"I bought this house because I fell in love with it," Abbie said wistfully, "but I just couldn't stay with Robert after I found out he'd betrayed me. When I was living in Meadowbrook, I missed not being here.
Still, I don't think I ever really appreciated how beautiful it is until tonight. Maybe everyone should spend a few days in jail."
Matthew didn't answer right away, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. Finally he said, "It is beautiful."
They stood quietly for a moment more. Then Abbie looked up at Matthew.
"Are you hungry?" she asked.
"A little."
"The jail chow lived up to its reputation and I'm famished for real food. Will you join me?"
"I had Barry stock the refrigerator."
"I know. You've thought of everything."
Matthew blushed. Abbie laughed.
"When are you going to stop doing that? We're going to be spending a lot of time together and I can't always walk on eggshells so as not to embarrass you."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. So will you stay for dinner?"
"If you'd like."
"Good, but you'll have to wait until I shower. I've got to get this jail smell off of me. Then I'll fix us bacon and eggs. Lots of eggs.
Soft scrambled. And stacks of toast. Will that be okay? For some reason, bacon and eggs sounds so good' to me."
"That's fine."
"There's coffee in the cupboard over the refrigerator. Why don't you make a pot while I'm upstairs."
Matthew wandered into the kitchen, taking his time, savoring each moment. He lingered in the hall and ran his hand over the molding and along the wall. Somewhere on the second floor the shower started.
Matthew strained to hear, imagining Abbie with the water cascading down her body. He was suddenly terrified by the possibility, no matter how fanciful, no matter how remote, of intimacy with a woman like Abigail Griffen.
After starting the coffee, Matthew sat at the kitchen table waiting for Abbie to come downstairs. She had asked him to stay with her. Would she have asked anyone to stay with her, just to have someone with her after her ordeal in the county jail? Was he special to Abbie in any way or was he simply an object she was using to ward off loneliness, like a television kept on through the night for the comfort of the sound?
The shower stopped. The silence was like an alarm. Matthew was as nervous as a schoolboy. He stood up and rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cupboards for silverware, cups and plates. When he was almost done setting the table, he heard Abbie in the doorway of the kitchen. Matthew turned. Her hair was still damp, falling straight to her shoulders. Her face was fresh-scrubbed. She wore no makeup, but she looked like a different person from the woman he had visited in the jail. There was no sign of despair or exhaustion. She glowed with hope.
After Dark Page 14
