Read Executive Privilege Online

Authors: Phillip Margolin

Tags: #Washington (D.C.), #Private investigators, #Murder, #Mystery & Detective, #Political fiction, #Crime, #Private investigators - Washington (D.C.), #Political, #Women college students - Crimes against, #Crimes against, #Fiction, #Women college students, #Investigation, #Suspense, #Murder - Investigation, #Thrillers, #Mystery fiction, #General, #Espionage, #Political crimes and offenses

Executive Privilege (7 page)

BOOK: Executive Privilege
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“What have we here?” Ginny Striker asked from the doorway. Brad jumped in his seat and dropped the envelope. A torrent of truly horrid pictures spilled onto his blotter.

“Eeek,” Ginny shrieked in mock terror. “Is that a plaintiff in one of our toxic spill cases?”

Brad’s hand flew to his chest. “Geez, Ginny, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“And a great worker’s comp case. Why are you looking at these disgusting photographs?”

“Susan Tuchman saddled me with a habeas corpus appeal,” Brad said. Then he waved a hand at the files that covered his desk. “As if I don’t have enough to do.”

“An associate’s work is never done. He must toil from sun to sun.”

Brad indicated the open pizza box. “Want a slice? These photos made me lose my appetite.”

Ginny grabbed a piece of cold pizza and a napkin and sat down on one of Brad’s client chairs. She was a few years older than Brad, a tall, slender blonde from the Midwest with large, blue eyes. Ginny was aggressive, funny, and smart and had started at Reed, Briggs a month before Brad arrived in Portland. During his first week on the job, she’d showed him the ropes. Brad thought she was cute but rumors of a boyfriend in medical school back east and his own tragic history with Bridget Malloy had kept their relationship platonic.

“I didn’t know you were so squeamish,” Ginny said.

“I’ve just never seen anything like this before. Have you?”

“Oh, sure. I was a nurse before I went to law school. I’ve seen more than my share of gaping wounds and internal organs.”

Brad blanched and Ginny laughed. Then she took a bite of pizza while Brad gathered up the gory photographs and stuffed them back in the envelope.

“What’s your case about?”

Ginny’s mouth was half full of pizza and it took Brad a moment to figure out what she’d just said.

“Clarence Little, my newest client, is a serial killer whose current address is death row at the Oregon State Pen. He’s there for murdering several women, including an eighteen-year-old girl named Laurie Erickson. I’ve been told that the Erickson case was very high profile out here when it happened because the victim was babysitting for the governor when she disappeared.”

“I heard about that! Wasn’t she snatched from the governor’s mansion?”

“That’s what they think.”

“They did a whole hour on one of the prime-time news shows about it. It was a few years ago, right?”

“Yeah, a year before Nolan picked Farrington as his running mate.”

“This is so cool, and why are you complaining? A murder case is way more interesting than the usual shit we have to work on.”

“I might find it as fascinating as you do if I had nothing else to keep me busy, but I’m swamped, and I’m also not that motivated to save the life of some degenerate who gets his kicks torturing innocent girls.”

“Point taken. So, you’re certain he did it?”

“I haven’t read the transcript—it’s twenty-four volumes—but I read the statement of facts in the brief that was filed in the Oregon supreme court after he got the death sentence. The state didn’t have an open-and-shut case, but it was pretty strong.”

“What happened?” Ginny asked as she grabbed a second slice of pizza.

“Laurie Erickson was the daughter of Marsha Erickson, who was Farrington’s personal secretary when he was governor. I think she worked at his law firm before he was elected. Anyway, Laurie was a senior in high school and she babysat for Patrick, the Farringtons’ kid, on occasion. The Farringtons were going to this fund-raiser at the Salem Public Library. The library isn’t that far from the governor’s mansion.

“Patrick was two at the time and he had a bad cold. He was asleep when Laurie started to watch him. You know the first lady is a doctor?”

Ginny nodded.

“Well, Dr. Farrington had gotten some prescription medicine that Laurie was supposed to give the kid if he was coughing when he woke up. The governor and his aide, Charles Hawkins, went down to the limo while his wife was in Patrick’s room telling Laurie what to do with the medicine. Dr. Farrington testified that she told Laurie good night a little after seven
P.M.

“This was in December, so it was already dark when the limo left for the library. The security detail at the mansion didn’t see anyone lurking around the grounds, but the mansion is an historic building that’s surrounded by woods. It was built by a timber baron in the 1800s on several acres and refurbished after a fund-raising campaign in the late 1990s. There are a lot of ways someone can sneak onto the grounds. There’s a guard at the front gate, another guard who patrols the grounds, and some security cameras, but the system isn’t state-of-the-art.”

“So the guards didn’t see anyone come to the mansion after the governor left?”

“Actually, someone did. Charles Hawkins, the governor’s aide, returned around seven-thirty to pick up a sheet with statistics for the governor’s speech that he had forgotten to bring with him. Hawkins parked in the rear of the mansion and entered through a back door that’s used by the staff. He had to pass by Patrick’s room on the way to his office. Mrs. Farrington asked him to check on Patrick. Hawkins testified that Laurie told him that Patrick was still asleep. After that he got the paper and drove back to the library in time to give it to the governor.”

“Did anyone see Laurie alive after Hawkins left?”

“No, he was the last person to see her, other than the killer, of course. When the Farringtons returned that night Patrick was still asleep but Laurie was nowhere to be found. The grounds and the woods were searched, but the police couldn’t find a trace of her. A few days later, hikers found her mutilated body in a state park, miles from the mansion.”

“What do the police think happened?”

“There’s an entrance to the basement in the rear of the mansion. It was open when the police searched the place, and traces of Erickson’s blood were found on a laundry chute that emptied into the basement. According to the medical examiner, Erickson was small and thin enough to fit down it. The cops think Little came through the woods and entered the house through the basement, knocked out Erickson, threw her body down the chute, and took her out the basement door.”

“That seems like a lot of work.”

“The guy’s crazy. He probably thought it was a good plan.”

“How would he know she was babysitting? He’d also have to know about the laundry chute and that it was big enough to accommodate someone Erickson’s size. How did he know the layout of the mansion?”

“I don’t know,” Brad answered, annoyed that Ginny was playing detective.

“Why did the police arrest Little for Erickson’s murder if no one saw him go into the mansion or leave with Erickson?”

“The big thing was the pinkie. He’d kidnap the girls, kill them, then cut off their pinkies after they were dead. The police think he kept them as souvenirs but they never found them. Erickson was missing her pinkie, and she’d been cut up the way Little had mutilated the other victims.”

“The case still sounds weak to me.”

“You’re right. I think Little would have had a good chance to beat it if it was his only charge, but Little was arrested for killing thirteen girls, and the state had a very strong case in several of the other murders. They didn’t prosecute Little for Erickson’s murder until he’d been convicted of two other killings. Then the prosecutor introduced evidence from those cases at Little’s trial for Erickson’s death. The MOs were so similar that they pointed to one person committing all of the crimes.”

“What’s going on with his other cases?”

“The Oregon supreme court affirmed so—barring a miracle in federal court—he’s going to be executed.”

Ginny looked confused. “If he’s going to be executed twice why is he appealing this case?”

Brad shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Is there a chance he’s innocent?”

“Who else could have done it?”

“Hawkins was the last person to see her alive,” Ginny said in between bites. “One of the guards could have crept up the stairs when the others weren’t looking. And if Little snuck into the mansion, so could someone else.”

“Some other serial killer who just happens to have an MO identical to Clarence Little’s?”

“Good point.”

“Anyway, none of that matters. I can’t reargue the facts in a habeas corpus case. I can only raise constitutional issues that were argued by Little in the habeas corpus hearing.”

“Why does Little think he should get a new trial?”

“He claims that he had an alibi for the night Erickson was murdered and his trial lawyer didn’t pursue it.”

“So he’s going with incompetence of counsel?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have any case. The trial attorney testified at the hearing. He said that Little did claim that he had an alibi but wouldn’t tell him what it was. He says he kept pressing Little for more information but Little was always so vague that he couldn’t use an alibi defense.”

“What did Little say?”

“Not much. I read his testimony. He just asserted that he had given the lawyer enough information but he wouldn’t tell the judge where he was supposed to have been, and he fenced with the prosecutor. He comes across as real evasive in the transcript. The judge accused him of playing games with the court. He ruled that Little’s attorney was competent and that was that.”

“Are there any other issues?”

“Not that I can see.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

Brad shrugged. “I guess I’ll skim the transcript and read all this stuff just to be sure. The guy is on death row. I’ve got to leave no stone unturned, right? But I think I’m just spinning my wheels. I’ll do some research. I owe the client that. If I don’t find anything I’ll meet with Tuchman and tell her we should advise the client to drop the appeal.”

Ginny wiped her hands and mouth on a napkin. “I have a brilliant suggestion.”

“About the case?”

“No, about life. It’s almost nine and you look like shit. I think the Dragon Lady can wait a day to hear your views on Mr. Little’s case, but I don’t think you can last much longer without a beer. So, I want you to pack up your case file and escort me over to the bar at the Shanghai Clipper.”

Brad looked at his watch. He’d lost track of time and his enthusiasm for work.

“That is a brilliant suggestion. You must have been top of your class.”

“I did ace drinking law.” Ginny stood up. “I’ll get my coat and meet you by the elevator.”

 

The Shanghai Clipper, an Asian fusion restaurant with a modern decor, was on the second floor of an office tower a few blocks from the Reed, Briggs offices. Large windows looked down on a section of the Park Blocks, a row of parks that started at Portland State University and stretched from north to south through the city with only a few interruptions. Brad and Ginny found a table in a dark corner of the bar next to a window and ordered beers and a few appetizers.

“Alone at last,” Ginny said.

“It is good to get out of the office.”

“You’ve got to watch yourself, pardner. A little overtime is okay, but you don’t want to court a nervous breakdown.”

“Is this advice of the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ variety? You worked as late as I did.”

“Touché.”

“Besides, it doesn’t much matter whether I’m at home or the office.”

“Whoa, you’re not feeling sorry for yourself, are you?”

“Actually, I am. Today is the anniversary of a really rotten event.”

The waiter appeared and placed between the lawyers two cold bottles of Widmer Hefeweizen, a selection of sushi, and a plate of fried won tons with a dipping sauce. When he left, Ginny cocked her head to one side and studied Brad for a moment. Then she closed her eyes, tipped her head back, and placed her fingertips on her forehead.

“I am seeing an image of a woman,” she said in a fake Hungarian accent.

Brad sighed. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“When a guy is morose it’s usually a safe bet that a woman is the cause.”

“You got me.”

“Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“Yeah, sure, why not bore you with my tale of woe. Once upon a time I was madly in love with Bridget Malloy. She was—is still I guess—the girl of my dreams. She’s smart and beautiful and she accepted my marriage proposal the third time I made it.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah, I know, I should have taken no for an answer the first time, or at least the second time, but I can’t think straight where Bridget is concerned.”

“This story has to have an unhappy ending.”

“It does. We were going to be married after I graduated from law school. The hotel was rented, the save-the-dates sent off, the wedding planner hired. Then Bridget asked me to meet her for drinks in the restaurant where I’d proposed for the second time.”

Ginny put her hand in front of her eyes. “I can’t look.”

Brad laughed bitterly. “You’ve obviously figured out the punch line to this sorry joke. Bridget told me that she couldn’t go through with the wedding. I think she said something about me being a great guy who was sure to find someone more worthy and something else about not being ready to settle down, but I can’t really be certain. After Bridget dropped her bombshell the rest of the evening is a blur.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t handle this well.”

“Nope. At least not right away. I spent the next two days drunk or in bed. I was in really bad shape. But then the clouds cleared, the sun came out, and I had an epiphany. Bridget said she was too young to settle down and I decided she was right and that maybe I was too young, too.

“Before Bridget backed out of the marriage, we’d planned to live in my apartment in the city. I was on my third callback to four Manhattan law firms and I was going to take the best job offer and work my way up to partner while Bridget completed her masters of fine arts and pursued her dream of being a writer. We’d have a child or two and move to the suburbs where we’d both grown up. There was a large home in a wealthy area of the North Shore and a country club membership somewhere in the plan. Then middle age and retirement after the kids were finished with grad school. It was all very tidy and awfully similar to the lives our parents had lived.

BOOK: Executive Privilege
11.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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