After Dark (27 page)

"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 timber. 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?"

"Yes,"

"I assume you were broke when you left prison?"

"You assume right."

"Have you gotten a job yet?"

"No."

"Any savings?"

"No."

"Did someone hire you to blow up Justice Griffen and frame Mrs. Griffen for the murder?"

Deems laughed. "That's nonsense."

"Then how do you explain this?" Reynolds said as he withdrew a sheaf of papers from the envelope and handed them to Charlie Deems. Deems completely lost his cool and his mouth gaped open. He looked at the bank records, then at Reynolds.

"What the hell is this?"

"A bank account at Washington Mutual in your name with a hundred thousand dollars in it."

"I don't know anything about this," Deems shouted.

"I see. Then I have no further questions."

"Any redirect, Mr. Geddes?" Judge Baldwin asked.

"May I have a moment, Your Honor?"

Baldwin nodded and Geddes continued the intense conversation he had been having with Neil Christenson since Matthew Reynolds announced the contents of the manila envelope. After a moment, Geddes stood. He had learned how to look composed in the worst situations from years of courtroom combat and he appeared to be unconcerned about the destruction of his key witness.

"Nothing further," Geddes said. "And the state rests."

"I imagine you have some motions, Mr. Reynolds?" Judge Baldwin said.

"Yes, sir."

"How many witnesses do you have?" the judge asked Matthew.

"Twenty-seven."

"Can you put any of them on this afternoon?"

"I'd prefer to start tomorrow."

"Why don't we take our morning recess now. I'll send the jury home. We can take up your motions after the recess, then take witnesses in the ' morning.

The jurors filed out. As soon as the judge left the bench, Charlie Deems left the witness box. Chuck Geddes and Nell Christenson hustled Deems out of the courtroom and up the stairs to the sixth floor.

"Where did you get that money?" Geddes demanded as soon as they were in his office.

"That's not my account," Deems said.

"It's in your name."

"But I don't know anything about it. That fucker Reynolds set me up."

"And I suppose he took the pictures of the shed, too?"

"I don't know anything about those pictures. There was dynamite in the shed when I was at the cabin."

Geddes swiveled his chair toward the window. The picture of the shed and the bank account were devastating. There had to be an explanation.

He hoped it did not have something to do with being duped by Charlie Deems.

"Wait outside," Geddes told Deems. Deems seemed only too happy to leave the room.

"What the fuck is happening, Neil?" the prosecutor demanded when they were alone.

"Either Deems was paid off to pin Justice Griffen's murder on Abbie Griffen or someone set him up."

"Damn it. Reynolds is making me look like a fool."

"What do you want to do with Deems?"

"Keep him at the farm until we figure out what's going on. If that son of a bitch lied to me, I'll have his balls."

Raoul Otero was staring at the gray roiling clouds and sheets of rain that obscured the view from his penthouse apartment in downtown Portland when Bobby Cruz sat down across from him. Raoul's mood was as black as the weather and the fifth of scotch he'd been working on all afternoon had only stoked his rage.

"You want some?" Otero asked, holding up the bottle.

"No, gracias," Cruz answered politely. Otero was not surprised. Except for violence, Bobby Cruz had novices. "Well?"

"It don' look good, Raoul. Deems testified for the DA."

Otero stared at the Willamette River. No ships were moving on its turbulent waters. It was so dark the cars crossing the Hawthorne Bridge were using their headlights even though it was only four o'clock.

"Why is Charlie doing this? He beat his case. The cops don't have no leverage on him."

"What I think is, he's doin' it to get even with the Griffen woman for putting him on the row."

Raoul nodded in agreement. "That piece of shit was always big on revenge. Remember how happy he was when I let him do Shoe?"

"Yea," Raoul. He could barely contain his joy. Our problem is that Griffen isn't the only one Charlie's mad at."

"How can he be stupid enough to talk to the cops about me?"

Raoul asked incredulously.

"Charlie isn't stupid, but he's mean. He's also loco. Charlie does what Charlii wants to do. That's why I told you not to have no dealings with him in the first place. Remember I said you can't control Charlie, because Charlie is always out of control?"

"And you were right. Jos called from Tijuana while you were at the courthouse. The feds busted the two border guards we had on the payroll. Charlie knew about them, just like he knew about Lee Terrace and the rest area on I-5."

"There's only one thing to do," Cruz said calmly.

Otero knocked down what was left of the scotch in his glass.

He did not like being in this position, but that fuck Deems had put him in it. Killing someone always hurt business, because the cops had to work hard on a murder case. Still, normally the risk was small with someone like Charlie, because the cops wouldn't spend too much time looking into the murder of a dealer who'd offed a kid. But "normally" might not apply anymore. Charlie was on the side of the angels. The cops were going to work overtime if someone took out the key witness in the murder of a Supreme Court justice. But that shit-for-brains, loco son of a bitch gave him no choice.

"Do you know where the cops have Charlie?"

"They're hiding him at a farmhouse. I followed them from the courthouse."

"Can you do it?"

"It won't be easy. He has two cops guarding him."

"You need help?"

Cruz smiled. "No, gracias. I think I will handle this myself."

Raoul nodded. A red mist clouded his eyes. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to smash Charlie Deems. If the situation wasn't desperate, if they had not lost three shipments already, he would wait and personally carve up Charlie Deems like a fucking turkey. But there would be no more shipments until Charlie was dead, so he would have to let Bobby Cruz have the honor.

Neil Christenson arrived home at ten o'clock Monday night, after spending all evening listening to Chuck Geddes scream at Charlie Deems.

Christenson changed into jeans and an OSU sweatshirt, then he settled into his favorite armchair and tried to get into a sitcom his wife, Robin, was watching.

At a commercial, Christenson went into the kitchen to fix himself a Snack and Robin put on some water for tea. It was quiet in the house because the kids were asleep. "Are you okay?" Robin asked.

"I'm just tired, but I'm thankful for a chance to forget about the Griffen case for a few hours."

Robin gave him a sympathetic smile. "Is it that bad?"

"Worse. Geddes has been driving me crazy ever since Reynolds took apart Deems this morning."

Robin put her arms around her husband and gave him a compassionate kiss.

"The trial will be over soon," she said. "Maybe we can get away for a few days."

Christenson held his wife and kissed the top of her head.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know," she answered coyly. "Maybe we could shack up in a motel on the coast for a weekend. Mom can watch the kids."

Christenson froze. "That's it," he muttered to himself.

Robin pulled back and looked at her husband. He was staring into space.

Christenson gave her a tremendous hug and kissed her on the cheek.

"I've got to go," he said.

"What? You just got home."

"It was the receipts, Robin. You're a lifesaver."

"What did I do?"

"You may have won the Griffen case."

Christenson walked back into the living room and put on his shoes.

"You're not going out?"

"I'm sorry. I have to check something to see if I'm right. If I don't do it now, I won't be able to sleep."

Robin sighed. She had been married to Neil for twelve years and she was used to his odd hours.

As he laced up his shoes, Christenson thought about the afternoon he had watched Tracy Cavanaugh and Barry Frame sift through the state's evidence. He had never figured out what piece of evidence had intrigued Tracy so much that she had felt it necessary to hide it from his view.

Now he thought he knew what she had been looking at. Some of the credit card receipts in the box of evidence from the bottom right drawer in Justice Griffen's den had been from the Overlook Motel. Christenson knew that motel. Three years ago, there had been a murder there and he had visited it during the investigation. The Overlook was a dive.

What was a Supreme Court justice doing there on three occasions? Robin had given him the answer. He was shacking up. But with who? Geddes's guess was Laura Rizzatti, and Christenson was going to see if Geddes was right.

Charlie Deems paced back and forth across his small bedroom on the second floor of the farmhouse. The rain had trapped him inside and he was going stir crazy.

Not even the game shows made this dump bearable anymore. To make matters worse, that asshole Geddes and his flunky Christenson had grilled him all evening.

"Why wasn't there dynamite in the photo of the shed? Where did the money in the bank account come from? Did he kill Justice Griffen and frame Abigail Griffen?" And on and on, over and over again.

Deems was certain he knew what had happened, but he wasn't going to tell Geddes. What he was going to do was take care of this himself. He'd been set up by that bitch Griffen. How else could Reynolds have made a fool out of him? According to Geddes, the whole case was in the toilet and that smirking whore was going to walk. Well, she might walk away from this case, but she was never going to walk away from Charlie Deems.

When he was through with her, Abigail Griffen was going to wish she had been convicted and sentenced to death, because what he had planned for her would make dying seem like a fucking picnic.

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

"As ," our first witness Matthew said on Tuesday morning, "the defense calls Tracy Cavanaugh."

Tracy could not remember being this nervous since the finals of the NCAA cross-country championships. She knew that she was only a chain-of-custody witness, but being under oath was nerve-racking.

"his. Cavanaugh, what is your profession?"

"I'm an attorney, Mr. Reynolds."

"What is your current position?"

"I'm an attorney in your office."

"Have you assisted me in defending Mrs. Griffen since she retained my firm?"

"Yes, sir."

"On September thirteenth, did I ask you to do something?"

"Yes."

"Please tell the jury what I asked you to do."

"You asked me to go to Mrs. Griffen's home and pick up a Pentax camera and film from her."

"Where was the film?"

"In the camera."

"What did you do with the film?"

"It was late evening when I picked up the camera, so I waited until morning and took it to FotoFast, a commercial developer.

The clerk took the film out of the camera and signed a receipt stating that he had done so. Then I brought you the camera."

Matthew handed Tracy a slip of paper. "Is this the receipt you received from the clerk?"

"Yes, sir."

"Later, did you go to FotoFast to pick up the developed film?"

"Yes. And I had the clerk sign a second statement."

Reynolds picked up the envelope with the photographs and Abbie's camera and walked over to Tracy.

"I am handing you what has been marked as Defense Exhibit 222. Is this the camera you picked up from Mrs. Griffen?"

"Yes," Tracy said after examining the small black Pentax.

"I hand you Defense Exhibit 223. Is this the envelope you picked up from FotoFast?"

"Yes."

"Did you give this envelope to me?"

"Yes."

"Did you review the photographs?"

"No, sir."

"Thank you."

Tracy handed the envelope back to Reynolds. As she did, she noticed that the photographs Matthew had shown to Deems were still on the ledge in the witness box where witnesses place exhibits they are viewing. She picked them up and gave them to Reynolds to put with the other photographs.

Just before Reynolds took the photo of the shed from her, Tracy frowned.

She was certain there was something odd about the picture, but she could not figure out what it was in the brief moment she had to view the photograph.

"Nothing further," Reynolds said as he placed the photographs in the envelope and walked to his seat. "Mr. Geddes?"

Tracy looked at the prosecutor. He was sitting alone this morning and Tracy wondered why Neil Christenson was missing.

"No questions," Geddes said, and Tracy was relieved to return to her seat at counsel table.

"The defense calls Dr. Alexander Shirov," Matthew said.

Tracy wanted to look at the photograph of the shed, but Reynolds had placed the envelope with the pictures under a stack of exhibits by the time she was back at the counsel table.

When Dr. Shirov entered the courtroom, Tracy turned to look at him. She had questioned Reynolds about the identity of his expert and the results of the tests on the metal strips, because she was dying to know what he could possibly do about this seemingly incontrovertible evidence, but Reynolds just smiled and declined to name his witness or discuss the results.

Dr. Shirov walked with a slight limp and carried his notes in both hands. He was tall and heavy, a man in his mid-fifties with a slight paunch, salt-and-pepper hair and a full beard. He looked relaxed when he took the oath and he smiled warmly at the jury when he took his seat in the witness box.