The Last Innocent Man Page 9

  David pushed through the swinging doors and Charlie rushed toward him.

  “Thanks, Dave,” Holt said quickly, pumping David’s hand. “Big trouble. Sorry to interrupt so early.”

  “That’s okay. What’s up?” David asked as he led Holt back down the corridor to his office.

  “Larry Stafford, one of our associates. Do you know him?”

  “I think I met him at the bar-association dinner last month.”

  Charlie sat down without being asked. He looked at the floor and shook his head like a man who had given up hope.

  “Really shocking.”

  “What is?”

  Holt’s head jerked up. “You didn’t read it in the papers?”

  “I’ve been here since seven.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s front page. Bad for the firm.” He paused for a moment and thought. “Worse for Larry. He’s been arrested. Wife called me last night. In tears. Doesn’t know what to do. Can I help? I went out to the jail, but I’m no criminal lawyer. Hell, I’d never even seen the jail before this morning. Your name naturally came to mind, if you’ll take it.”

  “Take what, Charlie? What’s he charged with?”

  “Murder.”

  “Murder?”

  Holt nodded vigorously.

  “They say he killed that policewoman. The one who was pretending to be a prostitute.”

  David whistled and sat down slowly.

  “He’s very upset. Made me promise to get you out there as soon as I could.”

  Holt stopped talking and waited for David to say something. David started to doodle on the legal pad. A lawyer. And that murder. That was a hot potato. Lots of press and TV coverage. A good investigation, too. The police were not going to go off half-cocked and look bad later. They would make damn sure they had a good case before they moved. And it would be better than damn good before they arrested an associate from the biggest and most influential law firm in the city. Hell, half the politicians in town had received sizable contributions from Seymour Price.

  “Who’s footing the bill, Charlie? This will cost plenty.”

  “Jennifer. Mrs. Stafford. They have savings. She has family. I asked her and she said they could manage.”

  “What do they have on him, Charlie?”

  Holt shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you, I’m no criminal lawyer. I wouldn’t even know who to ask.”

  “What do the papers say?”

  “Oh, right. Something about an eyewitness. Another policeman. Jennifer says they searched the house and took some of Larry’s shirts and pants.”

  “That’s right,” David said, remembering one of the newspaper stories he’d read. “Bert Ortiz was working with her and got knocked unconscious. But I didn’t know he’d seen the killer.”

  “You know this Ortiz?”

  “Sure. He’s a vice cop. He’s been a witness in several cases I’ve tried.”

  “Will you go out and see Stafford?”

  David looked at the half-finished brief. Did he want to get involved in a case this heavy right now?

  “Jennifer swears he didn’t do it. Says they were home together the night the girl was killed.”

  “She does? Do you believe her? After all, she is his wife.”

  “You don’t know Jenny. She’s a peach. No, if she says so…”

  David smiled, then laughed softly. Holt looked at him quizzically.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s just that you don’t run across too many innocent men in this business. They’re about as rare as American eagles.”

  David felt a surge of excitement at the thought. An honest-to-goodness innocent man. It was worth a look. He’d finish the brief tonight.

  “Am I glad to see you,” Larry Stafford said. The guard closed the door of the private interview room, and David stood up to shake hands. Stafford was dressed in an illfitting jumpsuit.

  “Sit down, Larry,” David said, indicating a plastic chair.

  “How soon can you get me out of this place?” Stafford asked. He was trying to keep calm, but there was an undercurrent of panic flowing behind his pale-blue eyes and country-club tan.

  “We’ll be in front of a judge later this morning, but this is a murder case, and there’s no requirement that the judge set bail.”

  “I…I thought they always…there was always bail.”

  “Not on a murder charge. If the DA opposes bail, we can ask for a bail hearing. But there’s no guarantee that the judge will set an amount after the hearing, if the DA can convince the court that you may be guilty. And even if the judge does set an amount for bail, it could be high and you might not be able to make it.”

  “I see,” Stafford said quietly. He was trying to sit straight and talk in the assured tone he used when conferring with attorneys representing other people. Only he was the client, and the news that he might have to remain in jail caused a slight erosion in his demeanor. A slumping of the shoulders and a downcasting of the eyes indicated to David that the message was starting to get through.

  “On the other hand,” David said, “you are an attorney with a good job. You’re married. I doubt the district attorney’s office will oppose bail, and if they do, I’m pretty sure most of the judges in the courthouse would grant it.”

  Stafford brightened as he clutched at the straw David had held out to him. David did not like to build up a client’s hopes, but in this case he was certain that his evaluation of the bail situation was accurate.

  “How have you been treated?” David asked.

  Stafford shrugged.

  “Pretty well, considering. They put me by myself in a small cell in the, uh, ‘isolation.’”

  “Solitary.”

  “Yes.” Stafford took a deep breath and looked away for a second. “All these terms. I never…I don’t handle criminal cases.” He laughed, but it was forced laughter, and he moved uncomfortably on the narrow seat. “I never wanted to get involved in it. Now I wish I’d taken a few more courses in law school.”

  “Have the police tried to interview you yet?”

  “Oh, yeah. Right away. They’ve been very polite. Very considerate. Detective Crosby. Ron is his first name, I think. Treated me very well.”

  “Did you say anything to him, Larry?”

  “No, except that I didn’t do anything. He…he read me my rights.” Stafford laughed nervously again. “Just like television. I’m still having a hard time taking this seriously. I half believe it’s some fraternity prank. I don’t even know anything about the case.”

  “What did you say to the police?” David asked quietly. He was watching Stafford closely. People who were not used to the police or prison situations often talked voluminously to police detectives who were trained to be polite and considerate. Once the prisoner was cut off from his friends and family, he would open up to any concerned person in hopes of getting support. The voluntary statements of helpless men were often the most damaging pieces of evidence used to convict them.

  “I didn’t say anything. What could I say? I don’t know anything about this.”

  “Okay. Now, I want to say a few things to you and I want you to listen very carefully. I am going to explain the attorney-client relationship to you. I know you are a lawyer by profession, but right now you are a prisoner charged with murder, and the lawyer in you is not going to be functioning very well, because people are never very objective when they are dealing with their own problems.”

  Larry nodded. He was leaning forward, concentrating on every word.

  “First, anything you tell me is confidential. That means that not only won’t I tell anyone what you say to me, but I cannot, by law, reveal the contents of our conversations.

  “Next, you should tell me the truth when we discuss this case. Not because I will be offended if you lie to me, but because if you tell me something that is not true, I may go off half-cocked in reliance upon what you’ve said and do something that will hurt your case.”

  David stopped and let the point sink in.
Stafford looked very uncomfortable.

  “Dave…look, I want to get one thing clear. I’m not going to lie to you, because I didn’t do anything. I have nothing to lie about. This whole thing is one ridiculous mistake, and I can promise you that I am going to sue those bastards for every cent in the city treasury when I’m finished with this business. But there is one thing I want to get straight between you and me. I…I have to be sure that the lawyer who represents me believes me. I mean, if you think I’m lying…well, I don’t lie, and when I say I’m innocent, I am innocent.”

  David looked straight at Stafford, and Stafford returned his stare without wavering.

  “Larry, what I’m telling you I tell every one of the people I represent, and I tell them for a reason. Let me make one thing clear to you. You don’t want a lawyer who believes you. You want a lawyer who will clear you of the charges against you. This isn’t Disneyland. This is the Multnomah County Jail, and there are a large number of well-trained people in this county who, at this very moment, are conspiring to take away your liberty for the rest of your life. I am the only person who stands between you and prison, and I will do everything in my power, whether I believe you or not, to keep you out of prison.

  “If you want someone to hold your hand and say that they believe you and tell you what a good guy you are, there’s a baby-sitting service I know of that can take care of that. If you want to get off, that’s another matter, and I’ll be glad to take your case.”

  Stafford looked down at the floor. When he looked up, he was flushed.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “it’s just that…”

  “It’s just that you’re scared and cut off from your family and friends, and you’re confused and you want to know that someone is on your side. Well, I’m on your side, Larry, and so is your wife and Charlie Holt and a lot of other people.”

  “I guess you’re right. It’s just so…so frustrating. I was sitting in my cell and thinking. I don’t even know how this happened.”

  “It has happened, though. And that’s what we have to deal with. Can you tell me where you were on the evening of June sixteenth and the early-morning hours of June seventeenth?”

  “Is that when the murder occurred?”

  David nodded.

  “What day of the week was that? A weekday or weekend?”

  “June sixteenth was a Thursday.”

  “Okay. Without my appointment book and talking with a few people, I couldn’t say for sure, but I probably worked at the office and went home.”

  “How late do you usually work?”

  “I put in pretty long hours. I’m still an associate at Price, Winward. Hoping to make partner pretty soon, but you know what that’s like. And I had a fairly complicated securities case I was working on about that time. I was probably at the office until seven at least. It could have been later. I really can’t say until I see my book.”

  “Who would have that?”

  “Jennifer. My wife.”

  David made a note on a yellow lined legal pad.

  “Let’s talk about you for a bit. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “Education?”

  “I went to law school at Lewis and Clark,” Stafford said. David nodded. Lewis and Clark was a private law school located in Portland.

  “I was back east for my undergraduate work.”

  “Are you from the East Coast?”

  “That’s hard to answer. My father was in the military. We traveled a lot. Then my folks got divorced, and I lived with Mom on Long Island, New York, until I went into the Army.”

  “You were in the service?”

  Stafford nodded.

  “Was that before or after college?”

  “After college and before law school.”

  “Did you go to work for Price, Winward right after law school?”

  “Yes. I’ve been there ever since,” Stafford said. David noticed something peculiar in the way Stafford answered, but he moved on.

  “Larry, have you ever been convicted of a crime?”

  “I had some trouble in high school. Minor in possession of beer. But that was cleared up.”

  “I’m only interested in criminal situations after the age of eighteen where you were either found guilty by a jury or by a judge or pleaded guilty.”

  “Oh, no. I never had anything like that.”

  There was a knock on the door and the guard stuck his head in.

  “He’s got to go to court soon, Mr. Nash.”

  “How much time have I got, Al?”

  “I can give you five minutes.”

  “Okay. Just knock when you’re ready.”

  The door closed, and David started collecting his material and placing it in his attache case.

  “We’ll finish this later. I’ll meet you at the courthouse.”

  “I’m sorry about that business before. About…”

  David stopped him.

  “Larry, you’re under more pressure now than I’ve ever been, and I think you’re holding up very well, considering. I’m going to try to find out what the DA has on you, then I’ll meet with you again and we’ll start plotting strategy. Try to relax as much as you can. This is out of your hands now, and there isn’t much you can do. So try not to brood about the case. I know that that’s impossible advice to follow, but you pay me to do your worrying, and you’ll be wasting your money if you do that part of my work for me.”

  Stafford smiled. It was a broad, brave smile. He grasped David’s hand in a firm grip.

  “I want to thank you for taking this case. I feel much more confident now with you on it. You’ve got quite a reputation, if you don’t know that already. And one more thing. I know you said it didn’t matter, and I believe you, but I want you to know that I am innocent. I really am.”

  The phone rang just as Monica was leaving her office. She hesitated for a moment, then answered it.

  “Monica, this is Ron Crosby.”

  “Oh, hi, Ron. I was just on my way up to arraign Stafford, and I’m going to be late. Can I call you back?”

  “No. Hold on. This is about Stafford. Does he get out on bail today?”

  “I talked it over with the boss, and we’re not opposing bail if David asks for it.”

  “I see. Look, I may be onto something and…I don’t think he should be out.”

  “Why not?”

  “Do you remember when we were talking? We figured Stafford was getting a little on the side without risking the dangers and entanglements of an affair. So he picks up a prostitute and panics when he finds out she’s a policewoman.”

  “That’s what I think,” Monica said. “His wife is the one with the money. If there was a divorce, it would hurt him more than her.”

  “Right. That’s what everyone was thinking. We saw Darlene as a policewoman. But she was posing as a prostitute. Maybe she was killed because Stafford thought she was a prostitute.”

  “I don’t get you.”

  “I did some checking on Stafford. He’s never been convicted of a crime or even arrested for one, but I did come up with something. This isn’t the first time Larry Stafford’s had problems with a whore.”

  The guard opened the steel door of the holding tank and told Larry it was time to go to court. He was polite and more deferential than he had been with the other prisoners. It made Larry feel uncomfortable. Another guard opened the door that connected the holding area to the courtroom. Larry hesitated at the threshold. He wanted to crawl inside himself and disappear. David had arranged for him to have the dignity of his own clothes, so that he did not have to parade in the uniform of a prisoner before all these people he knew, but the clothes did not prevent him from feeling shame and that nauseated feeling in the pit of his stomach that had grown worse since his arrest.

  There was an embarrassed quiet when Stafford was led into the courtroom. Other lawyers looked away. The judge, a man he had appeared before only last week, occupied himself with a loose stack of papers.
The bailiff, a young night student with whom he had sometimes chatted during court recess, would not look at him.

  David hurried to Stafford’s side and began telling him what would happen. Larry wanted to see Jennifer, but he could not bring himself to look at the packed courtroom. He felt he could hold himself together if he stared forward. He wanted to numb all feeling, freeze his heart, and melt away.

  They were through the bar of the court now and standing in front of Judge Sturgis. An attractive woman was reading the charge against him, but he could not associate the words she was saying with himself. It was some other Larry Stafford she was talking about. And all the time, he concentrated on a spot just above the judge’s head and tried to stand erect.

  “Your Honor, I am David Nash, and I will be representing Mr. Stafford in this matter.”

  “Very good, Mr. Nash.”

  “Your Honor, I would like to raise the matter of bail. Mr. Stafford was arrested last night. As the Court knows, he is a member of the bar, he is married, and he is practicing with a well-respected firm…”

  “Yes, Mr. Nash,” the judge interrupted. He turned toward Monica Powers.

  “Is there any opposition to the setting of bail at this time, Ms. Powers?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. The State would be opposed to the setting of bail at this time.”

  David started to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he addressed the Court. “We would like to have a bail hearing scheduled as quickly as possible then, Your Honor.”

  Monica turned toward him.

  “I should tell counsel that we are taking this case directly to the grand jury this afternoon, and we expect to arraign Mr. Stafford in circuit court in one to two days.”