"Q: Thank you. Now, the next call was from Arthur Knowland. He did not leave a phone number. He did say that he needed some 'shirts' and wanted the defendant to call him as soon as possible."
"A: Okay. I believe this call is from someone who wants to buy drugs from the defendant. We see this all the time when we have electronic surveillance on individuals who are talking about drug deals. They rarely use the names of narcotics in their discussions.
They will call heroin or cocaine 'tires' or 'shirts' or whatever they have agreed on in the belief that this will somehow protect them if the person they are dealing with is an undercover officer or a recording is being made of their conversation."
"Q: The last message is from Alice. She leaves a message and a phone number."
"A: We contacted the person who subscribes to the phone number. Her name was Alice Trapp. She admitted that her call was an attempt to purchase cocaine."
The examination continued on the next page, but it changed to a discussion of the contents of a notebook that had been found in Deems's bedroom. Tracy reread the two pages, but had no idea why they might be significant. Then she glanced at her watch. It was eight-thirty. Tracy put Volume XI back with the other transcripts and turned out the lights.
The idea of watching Casablanca with Barry Frame seemed like heaven compared to reading another page of boring transcript. In fact, spending the evening with Barry was preferable to anything else she could imagine.
The trial was leaving Tracy so exhausted that sex had been completely banished from her thoughts. Until now. She and Barry had not made love yet, but the way they felt about each other meant it was only a matter of time and the right setting.
Chapter TWENTY-THREE
"You know the drill. Keep your head up, keep moving and let me do the talking," Matthew told Abbie when Barry Frame stopped his car in front of the Multnomah County Courthouse on Monday morning. A torrential rain cascaded off the car as Matthew opened the back door on the driver's side. Huge drops bounced off of the hood and windshield. Matthew held up a large black umbrella to shield Abbie from the downpour. Tracy grabbed the huge leather sample case with the trial files, smiled quickly and shyly at Barry, then ran around the car to help screen Abbie from the crowd that blocked the courthouse entrance. She was soaking wet by the time they fought their way through the reporters and into the elevator.
The court guards recognized the defense team and waved them around the metal detector that stood between the courtroom door and the long line of spectators. Matthew led the way through the low gate that separated the spectators from the court. He set his briefcase next to the counsel table and shook the water off the umbrella. When he turned around, Abbie was staring at Charlie Deems, who was lounging on a bench behind Chuck Geddes inside the bar of the court. Deems looked surprisingly handsome in a blue pinstripe suit, freshly pressed white shirt and wine-red tie that Geddes had purchased for his court appearance. His shoes were polished and his hair had been cut.
"Howdy, Mrs. Prosecutor," Deems said, flashing his toothy grin. "You learnin' what it feels like to be in the frying pan?"
Before Abbie could respond, Matthew stepped in front of her.
He stared down at Deems. Deems stopped grinning. Reynolds held him with his eyes a moment more. Then he spoke in a voice so low that only Charlie Deems heard him.
"You are a hollow man, Mr. Deems. There is no goodness in you. If you tell lies about Mrs. Griffen in this courtroom, not even a dark angel will protect you."
Charlie Deems turned pale. Reynolds turned his back to Deems. Deems leaped to his feet.
"Hey," Deems shouted, "look at me, you freak."
Reynolds sat down and opened his briefcase. Deems took a step toward Matthew, his face tight with rage.
"What did you just say?" Geddes demanded of Reynolds as he and Christenson restrained Deems. Matthew ignored Geddes and calmly arranged his notes while the prosecutor tried to calm his star witness.
"Mr. Deems," Chuck Geddes asked, "are you acquainted with the defendant?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Please explain how you two first met."
"She prosecuted me for murder."
"Had you ever met the defendant before she prosecuted you?"
"No, sir."
"What was the result of your case?"
"I was convicted and sentenced to death."
"Where did you spend the next two years?"
"On death row at the Oregon State Penitentiary."
"Why aren't you still on death row?"
"The Oregon Supreme Court threw out my case."
"It reversed your conviction?"
"Right."
"And the Multnomah County district attorney's office elected not to retry you?"
"Yes."
"Shortly after your release from prison, did the defendant contact you?"
Geddes asked.
"Yes, sir. She sure did."
"Did that surprise you?"
Deems laughed and shook his head in wonder. "I would have been less surprised if it was the President." The jury laughed.
"Why were you surprised?" Geddes asked.
"When a woman spends a year of her life trying to get you executed, you start to think she might not like you."
Deems smiled at the jury and a few jurors smiled back.
"Tell the jury about the conversation."
"Okay. As I recollect, she asked me how it felt to be off death row. I said it felt just fine. Then she asked how I was fixed for money. I asked her why she wanted to know. That's when she said she had a business proposition for me."
"What did you think she had in mind?"
"I knew she didn't want me to mow her lawn."
The jurors and spectators laughed again. Tracy could see them warming to Charlie Deems and it worried her. She glanced at Reynolds, but he seemed completely unperturbed by Deems's testimony. Tracy marveled at the way he kept his cool.
"Did you ask the defendant what she wanted?" Geddes continued.
"I did, but she said she didn't want to discuss it over the phone."
"Did you agree to meet the defendant?"
"Yes, sir."
"Why?"
"Curiosity. And, of course, money. I was dead broke when I got off the row and she implied there was a lot of money to be made."
"Where did you meet?"
"She wanted me to come to a cabin on the coast. She gave me directions."
"Do you remember the date?"
"I believe it was Friday, August twelfth."
Abbie leaned toward Reynolds. She was upset and Tracy heard her whisper, "These are all lies. I never called him and we never met at the cabin."
"Don't worry," Tracy heard Reynolds say. "Let him hang himself."
"What happened when you arrived at the cabin?" Geddes asked.
"Mrs. Griffen was waiting for me. There were some chairs on the porch, but she wanted to sit inside, so no one would see us.
"At first she just made small talk. How was I getting by, did I have any jobs lined up? She seemed real nervous, so I just went along with her, even though it didn't make any sense."
"What do you mean?"
"I knew damn well she wasn't concerned about my welfare.
Hell, the woman tried to get me lethally injected. But I figured she'd get to it soon enough."
"And did she?"
"Yes, sir. After we'd been talking a while, Mrs. Griffen told me she was real unhappy with her husband and wanted a divorce.
But there was a problem. She was very rich. Justice Griffen's divorce lawyer was asking for a lot of money and she was afraid the court would give it to him. I asked her what that had to do with me. That's when she led me out back of the cabin and showed me the dynamite."
"Where was this dynamite?"
"In a toolshed behind the house."
"Describe the shed and its contents."
"It's been a while and I only looked in a minute, but it seems like the shed was made out of weathered gray tim
ber. The dynamite was in a box on the floor. I know there were some gardening tools in the shed, but I can't remember what kind."
"What did Mrs. Griffen say to you when she showed you the dynamite?"
"She said she knew I was good with explosives and wanted to know if I could use the dynamite to kill her husband. She told me she had a workshop in her garage and I could make the bomb there. She also said no one would suspect us of working together since she was the one who prosecuted me."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her she'd made a big mistake. I said I didn't know anything about making bombs and that I hadn't killed any of the people she thought I'd killed. But even if I had, I wasn't going to kill the guy who was responsible for taking me off death row.
Especially when that guy was a justice of the Oregon Supreme Court.
You'd have to be an idiot. I mean, every cop in the state would be hunting you down if you killed someone important like that and they'd never give up."
"What did the defendant say to that?"
"She offered me fifty thousand dollars. She told me I was smart and could figure out how to do it without being caught."
"How did you respond?"
"I said I wasn't going to do it."
"What did the defendant say then?"
"She got real quiet. I'd seen her in court like that. It made me a little nervous. Then she said she was sorry she'd troubled me. I didn't want to hang around any more than I had to, so I took off."
"Did you go to the police after you left?"
"Are you kidding? She warned me about that. She said no one would believe me if I accused her, because the cops still thought I killed that kid and her father. She also said she'd have dope planted on me and send me away forever if she even heard I was in spitting distance of a police station or the DA's office."
"Was that the last time you had any contact with Mrs. Griffen?"
"Yes, sir."
"Despite her warning, you did come to the district attorney and explain what happened."
"Yes, sir."
"Why did you come forward?"
"Self-preservation. As soon as the judge was blown up, I knew she was trying to frame me. Hell, she did it once with that phony confession, and the newspapers said the bomb was similar to the one that killed Hollins and his kid. Then I heard the cops were looking for me. I figured my only chance was to go to the DA and hope he'd believe me."
"No further questions."
Deems had stared at Reynolds frequently during his testimony, growing frustrated when Matthew refused to pay any attention to him. The slight had been intentional. Matthew wanted Deems angry and combative.
"Did you know a man named Harold Shoe, Mr. Deems?"
Matthew asked.
"Yeah, I knew Shoe."
"Was he a drug dealer?"
"So they said."
"Did 'they' also say he was a rival of yours in the drug trade?"
"I don't know everything people said about Shoe."
"Did you know that Mr. Shoe was tortured to death?"
"I heard that."
"Did you also hear that Larry Hollins was prepared to identify you as the man he saw putting Mr. Shoe's body in a Dumpster?"
"My lawyer told me that after Hollins was killed. That's the first I knew of it."
"While you were awaiting trial for the murder of Larry Hollins and Jessica Hollins, his nine-year-old daughter, did you have a cellmate named Benjamin Rice?"
"Yeah. The cops planted him in my cell."
"Did you tell Benjamin Rice that Shoe was 'a worthless piece of shit who couldn't even die like a man'?"
"I never said that. Rice made that up."
"Did you tell Mr. Rice that it was 'tough that the kid had to die, but that's the risk a snitch takes'?"
"I never said that either."
Tracy cast a quick look at the jurors. They no longer looked amused by Charlie Deems.
"What time of day did you meet with Mrs. Griffen at the coast?"
"Late afternoon."
"Can you be more specific?"
"She said to come out around four."
"The sun was still shining?"
"Right."
"And this meeting was arranged during the phone call you received from Mrs. Griffen?"
"Right."
"Where were you when you received the call?"
"A friend's."
"What friend?"
"Her name is Angela Quinn."
"Did you go to Ms. Quinn's as soon as you were released from prison?"
"Yeah."
"And you were in prison for two years?"
"Two years, two months and eight days."
"And before that, you were in jail, awaiting trial?"
"Yes."
"And before that, you lived in an apartment?"
"Right."
"Not with Ms. Quinn?"
"No."
"How did Mrs. Griffen know where to call you?"
"What?"
"You testified that you were living in an apartment when you were arrested, then jail, then prison. You've also testified that the first conversation you ever had with Mrs. Griffen was the phone call you received at Angela Quinn's residence. How would Mrs. Griffen know where to contact you? How would she know Angela Quinn's phone number?"
Deems looked confused and glanced at Chuck Geddes for help.
"While you're trying to think up an answer to that question, why don't you tell the jury what Mrs. Griffen was wearing when you met at the cabin."
"Uh, let's see. Jeans, I think, and a tee shirt."
"What color tee shirt?"
"Uh, blue, I think."
"How long were you with Mrs. Griffen?"
"Forty-five minutes. An hour."
"Face to face?"
"Yeah."
"And you can't recall what she was wearing?"
"I wasn't paying attention," Deems snapped angrily. "I'm not a fashion expert."
Deems sounded flustered and Geddes leaned over to confer with Neil Christenson.
"You talked inside the cabin, did you not?"
"Right."
"Maybe you'll have better luck describing the furnishings of the cabin to the jury."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell the jury what the inside of the cabin looked like. You should have no trouble if you were inside it for forty-five minutes to an hour."
Several of the jurors leaned forward.
"Uh, there's a kitchen and a living room."
"When you spoke with Mrs. Griffen, where did you sit?"
"In the living room."
"Where in the living room?"
"Uh, on the couch."
"What color is the couch?"
Deems paused for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I don't really remember. Look, I told you, the woman wanted me to murder her husband.
I wasn't paying attention to the furniture."
"How about the living-room rug, Mr. Deems?" Reynolds asked, ignoring Deems's discomfort.
"I don't remember. Brown. Maybe, it was brown."
"Can you tell the jury the color of anything in the Griffen cabin?
Deems was upset. He shifted in his seat.
"Do you want to know why you can't recall the colors, Mr. Deems?" Deems just stared at Reynolds. "It's because you were in the Griffen cabin but not when you claim you were there. You entered the cabin at night, after sunset, when you tried to kill Mrs. Griffen. In the absence of light, the human eye cannot distinguish colors."
Deems flushed. He shook his head and glared at Reynolds.
"That's not it. I wasn't paying attention to colors. I was nervous. I mean, this woman prosecuted me for a murder I didn't commit. Then she turns around and asks me to kill her husband.
Colors were the last thing on my mind."
Reynolds picked up a stack of photographs and crossed the courtroom to the witness box. Then he smiled at Deems, but there was no warmth in it.
"By the way," Matthew said,
handing Deems one of the pictures, "there is no rug in the living room. It's hardwood."
"What are those photographs?" Geddes asked as he leaped to his feet.
"They are pictures of the cabin taken on August twelfth, the day Mr.
Deems claims he visited Mrs. Griffen. The pictures were mentioned in discovery."
"Objection," Geddes said desperately. "There's no foundation for them."
"All of these photographs were taken by Mrs. Griffen. The camera she used date-stamped the negatives. I'll lay the foundation later,"
Reynolds said.
"With that assurance, I'll permit you to use them," Judge Baldwin ruled.
Deems examined the picture quickly. While the attorneys argued, he looked over at Abigail Griffen. She was smiling a hard, cold smile at him. Deems flushed with rage. He wanted Abbie to suffer, but she looked triumphant.
"Well?" Matthew asked. "Is there a rug?"
"No," Deems answered grudgingly. "At least not in these pictures."
"Do you have other photographs showing a rug in the Griffen cabin, Mr.
Deems?" Reynolds snapped.
Suddenly, it appeared to Tracy that Charlie Deems had thrown a switch and cut off all of his emotions. The anger disappeared to be replaced by a deadly calm. The witness relaxed visibly and leaned back in his chair. Then he grinned at Matthew and answered, "No, sir. These are the only photos I know about."
Tracy was suddenly frightened for Matthew and glad that he was not alone with Charlie Deems.
"Thank you, Mr. Deems. Now, you've explained that Mrs. Griffen wanted you to use dynamite that was in a shed behind the house?"
"Right," Deems replied evenly.
"You remember the dynamite because she showed it to you?"
"Definitely."
Matthew Reynolds handed another picture to Deems. "I remind you that the negative of this picture of the shed is date-stamped. Where is the dynamite?"
In the photograph, the shed door was ajar enough to show the interior.
Deems saw gardening tools, a volleyball net and an empty space with a volleyball resting dead center. What he did not see was a box of dynamite.
"I don't know," Deems said with a marked lack of interest.
"Maybe she moved it."
Reynolds left the pictures and returned to the defense table.
He picked up a manila envelope and walked back to Deems.
"I believe you said that you were tempted by Mrs. Griffen's offer of fifty thousand dollars because you could use the money?"
After Dark Page 22
