After Dark (15 page)

Griffen," Geddes said. "Or if you prefer, you can visit someone. We're going to search your car, so I can offer you a ride."

Everything was happening so fast that Abbie had to fight to keep from being overwhelmed, but her anger gave her strength.

She looked directly at Geddes.

"I'm staying right here," she said, "and I'm going to watch every move you make."

Chapter THIRTEEN

"Mrs. Griffen," Matthew Reynolds said as he walked across his reception area, "there was no need to meet with me so soon after your husband's funeral. Mr. Coulter's case could have waited a few more days."

"I'm not here about the Coulter case. Can we go to your office?"

A look of curiosity and concern crossed Reynolds's face as he guided Abbie down the hall. As soon as they were seated, Abbie asked, "What can you tell me about Chuck Geddes?"

Reynolds didn't ask why Abbie wanted this information. Instead, he studied her while he gathered his thoughts. She was beautiful in black with a single strand of pearls, but she looked exhausted and sat stiffly, her hands folded, her face tight, as if she was afraid that she might break apart if she moved.

"Chuck Geddes is intelligent and single-minded, but he is rigid. As long as a trial goes as he's foreseen, he does a good, workmanlike job, but let the slightest thing go wrong and he can't bend with it.

"About four years ago, the La Grande district attorney called in the Attorney General's office to help in the prosecution of a complex murder case I was defending. Mr. Geddes was condescending to me at first.

Then, as his case began to get away from him, he became strident, demanding and rude. I had the feeling he thought my legal motions were part of some conspiracy aimed at him.

"Two years later, we tried a case in John Day. He was offensive from the start. Paranoid about every detail. I prevailed on a motion to suppress the state's key evidence, so the case never came to trial.

Later, I learned that he violated the discovery rules by failing to notify me about a witness whose testimony would have been damning. I have the impression that when he's under pressure he'll do anything to win."

"Is Geddes ambitious?"

"Very. And now, if I may," Reynolds asked, sighting Abbie over his tented fingers, "why this sudden interest in Mr. Geddes?"

An array of emotions crossed Abbie's face. She looked down and gathered herself. When she raised her head, her features showed the strain of maintaining her composure.

"I need a lawyer to represent me."

"In what type of case?"

"Yesterday, Geddes came to my home to question me about Robert's death.

I'm a suspect." Reynolds sat up. "He had a warrant to search my house.

They have a witness who says I'm involved and evidence that supposedly supports the accusation."

"Who is the witness?"

"They won't tell me. Geddes treated me like a criminal." Abbie's heart was beating furiously and she had to breathe deeply before she could say the next sentence. "I have the feeling that it's only a matter of time before I'm . . . arrested."

"This is preposterous. Have you talked with Jack Stamm?"

"Jack is off the case. Geddes has been appointed a special deputy district attorney. He'll run the investigation and he'll prosecute."

"I can give you the names of several excellent defense attorneys."

"No. I want you to represent me."

Reynolds looked at Abbie and she sensed that he was torn by conflicting emotions.

"I'm flattered, Mrs. Griffen, but I don't see how I can do that when you're prosecuting Jeffrey Coulter."

"I'm not. I'm suspended. Dennis Haggard has the Coulter case."

"Jack Stature suspended you?"

"I was angry at first. I'm still angry. I'm furious. But Jack had no choice. I'm a suspect in a murder case his office is investigating. In any event, there is no conflict."

"Why me?" Matthew asked.

Abbie's expression was grim. "You're the best, Matthew. If I'm charged I'll need the best. They wouldn't have gone this far if they didn't think they had a case. Searching the home of a deputy district attorney... . . ." Abbie shook her head. "There's no way Geddes would have done that unless there was strong evidence of guilt."

"Are you guilty?"

Abbie looked directly at Matthew. "I did not kill my husband," she said firmly.

Matthew studied her, then said, "You have yourself a lawyer."

The uncertainty that clouded Abbie's features vanished like mist evaporating in sunlight. Her shoulders relaxed and she slumped down, visibly relieved. "I was afraid you wouldn't help me."

"Why?"

"Because . . . I don't know. Coulter. The fact that I'm a prosecutor."

"You're a human being in trouble and I'm going to do everything I can to protect you."

"Thank you, Matthew. You don't know what that means to me.

"It means our relationship has changed. First, we're no longer adversaries. We work together from now on. Second, I'm still an attorney, but in this relationship you're not. You're my client.

That's going to feel strange to you. Especially since you're used to being in charge. From now on, I'm in charge. Can you accept that?"

"Of course. But I can help. I want to participate in my defense."

"Of course you'll participate, but not as an attorney. It wouldn't work. You've seen what happens when a defendant represents himself.

You're too emotionally involved to be objective."

"I know, but . . ."

"If we're going to work together you've got to trust my judgment. Can you do that?"

"I . . . I don't know. I'm not used to being helpless."

"I'm not asking you to be helpless. I'm asking you to trust me.

As of this moment, your case is the single most important matter in this office. Do you believe that?"

Matthew's bright blue eyes blazed with a passionate intensity that transformed his plain features. Abbie had seen Reynolds like this before, in the Supreme Court, when he challenged the justices to be fair to Jeffrey Coulter. A calm feeling flooded over her.

"Yes, I believe you."

"Good. Then we can begin. And the first thing I want to do is explain the attorney-client relationship to you."

"I'm aware of . . ." Abbie started, but Matthew held up his hand.

"Do you believe that I respect your intelligence and your abilities as an attorney?"

"I . . . Yes."

"I am not trying to insult you. I am trying to help you. This is not a position you've been in before. You're a client and a suspect in a murder. I'm going to give you every piece of advice I give to every other client. I'm going to assume nothing, because I don't want to make the mistake of skipping a step because of the respect I have for your abilities."

"Okay."

"Abbie, everything you tell me is confidential. I will guard your disclosures completely. I am the only person on earth in whom you can confide with the certainty that what you say will not be repeated to the people investigating you.

"I don't want you to be upset by what I say next. I am a criminal defense attorney. Many of the people I represent are criminals and many of these people lie to me at some point during my representation. I am never upset when they lie. I know that people under pressure do things that they would never do under normal circumstances. So if you intend to lie to me, I won't be upset, but you could cause me to go off and do something that would put you in a worse position than you would be in if you told me the truth."

Abbie sat up straight in her seat and looked into Matthew's eyes. "I will never lie to you, Matthew," she said with great intensity. "I promise you that."

"Good. Then tell me why Chuck Geddes thinks you murdered your husband.

Let's start with motive."

"We were separated, if that's what you mean," Abbie said, coloring slightly.

"Was the separation amicable?"

"No."

"Whose idea was it to separate?"

"Mine," Abbie said firmly.

"Justice Griffen wanted to stay married?"

"Robert liked to live well," Abbie answered, unable to hide her bitterness, "but he couldn't do a lot of that on a judge's salary."

"Surely he had his own money? I thought Justice Griffen had a successful law practice before he went on the bench."

"Robert was intelligent, and he was certainly charming, but he was not a good attorney. He was lazy and he didn't care about his clients. He used to talk about what idiots they were. How much he was overcharging them. After a while, the clients caught on and complained to the other partners. Robert was losing clients. He was making good money at one time, but he spent what he earned and more. As I said, Robert really enjoyed the good life.

He put his name in for the bench because his partners were carrying him and he knew his time at the firm was limited."

"Why did the governor appoint Justice Griffen if his reputation was so bad?"

"It wasn't. Most people saw Robert's corner office with a view of the Willamette, read his name on the door of one of Portland's most prestigious firms and met him in social settings, where he shined.

"Then there were the markers. The firm contributed a great deal of money to the governor's campaign and they wanted Robert out. In all honesty, he wasn't a bad judge. He was always smart. And for a while he tried hard to do a good job. Robert wasn't evil so much as he was self-absorbed."

Matthew made some notes, then asked, "Who stood to gain if the divorce became final?"

"Robert. My attorney said he wanted a two-million-dollar settlement."

Reynolds was Surprised by the amount. He had never thought of Abbie as a wealthy woman, always assuming that Robert Griffen was the one with the money because he had been a partner in a prestigious law firm while Abbie worked in the district attorney's office.

"Could you afford that?" Reynolds asked.

"Yes. It would have been worth it to get him out of my life."

"Two million dollars is a very good motive for murder."

"He would have settled for less and I could have survived nicely, even if it cost me that much to get rid of him."

"Most jurors would find it hard to believe that you could give away two million dollars and not care."

"It's the truth."

"I didn't say it wasn't. We're talking about human nature, Abbie. What the average person will think about a sum that large."

Abbie thought about that for a moment.

"Where did your money come from?" Reynolds asked.

"My parents were both killed in an auto accident when I was very young.

There was a big insurance policy. My Aunt Sarah took me in. She made certain the money was invested wisely."

"Tell me about your aunt."

"Aunt Sarah never married and I was her only family. A few years before I came to live with her, she started Chapman Accessories in her house to supplement her income. It kept growing.

She sold out to a national chain when she was fifty for several million dollars. I was seventeen and I'd just graduated from high school. We went around the world together for a year. It was the best year of my life. Aunt Sarah died five years ago. Between the money she invested for me and the money she left me, I'm quite wealthy."

"I take it that you were very close to your aunt."

"I loved her very much. As much as if she was my real mother.

She made me strong and self-sufficient. She convinced me that I didn't have to be afraid of being alone."

Abbie paused, momentarily overcome by emotion. Then she said, "I wish she was here for me now."

Reynolds looked down at his desk, embarrassed by Abbie's sudden display of emotion. When Reynolds looked up, he looked grim.

"You must never think you're alone, Mrs. Griffen. I am here for you, and so are the people who work for me. We are very good at what we do.

You must believe that. And we will do everything in our power to see that you are cleared of this terrible accusation."

Jack Stamm had assigned Chuck Geddes a room in the Multnomah County district attorney's office that overlooked the Fifth Avenue transit mall. With the window open, Geddes could hear the low hum of the city. The white noise was lulling him into a state of somnolence when he was suddenly struck by an idea.

Geddes sat up and grabbed his legal pad. If Neil Christenson could find evidence to support his new theory, that evidence would not just put a nail in Abigail Griffen's coffin, it would seal it hermetically.

When Geddes was through with his notes he made a call to the Supreme Court in Salem. Then he buzzed Neil Christenson and told him to come to his office immediately. While he waited, Geddes marveled at his ability to make this type of intuitive leap.

There were lots of good prosecutors, Geddes thought with a smile of smug satisfaction, but the truly great lawyers were few and far between.

Geddes was so lost in thoughts of self-congratulation that the ringing phone startled him.

"Geddes," he barked into the receiver, angered by the inopportune interruption.

"Mr. Geddes, this is Matthew Reynolds."

Geddes stiffened. He genuinely hated Reynolds because of the way the defense attorney had humiliated him in court both times they had faced each other, but he would never give Matthew the satisfaction of knowing how he felt.

"What can I do for you, Matt," Geddes asked in a tone of false camaraderie.

"Nothing right now. I'm calling because I understand you are in charge of the investigation into Justice Griffen's murder."

"That's right."

"I have just been retained to represent Abigail Griffen and I would appreciate it if neither you nor any other government agent contacts her in connection with this case. If you need to speak to her, please call me and I'll try to assist you, if I can. I already mailed you a letter that sets out this request. Please put it in your file."

Listening to Reynolds give him orders as if he was some secretary set Geddes's teeth on edge, but you could never tell that from the way he calmly responded to Abbie's attorney.

"I'll do that, Matt, and I appreciate the call, but I don't know why Mrs. Griffen is so bent out of shape. You both know that the wife is always a natural suspect. I was sorry to have to upset her so soon after her husband's funeral, but we're not looking at her any more than anyone else."