Fox is Framed (7 page)

Quickly, Nina said, “What was the informant's conviction?”

“Excuse me,” Crowder said, rising. “Objection. She's doing it again. She's just trying to fish for information to uncover the informant's identity.”

“It's obviously for impeachment,” Nina said. “We know he was convicted of something. We're entitled to know whether it was a crime of dishonesty or moral turpitude.” Such crimes, of course, being admissible evidence for the purpose of establishing that the unnamed witness had a character for dishonesty.

Quick thinking. Especially as Nina knew from the note I'd passed her that Bell's conviction had been reversed. But Crowder didn't rise to the bait and contradict her. The judge deliberated a moment, gazing at the clock at the back of the courtroom. “How about this? For the purposes of this hearing, to avoid disclosing information that might identify the informant, I'll assume that he was convicted of a crime involving moral turpitude or false statement.”

“That's fine,” Crowder said. No doubt she recognized that there was no way Liu would disregard the informant's story based on this hypothetical assumption.

With no choice but to move on, Nina asked whether the detective knew if the individual, while incarcerated, had provided information in connection with any other pending case. Again Liu shut her down. “You'll have your day to pursue these areas, but none of them is relevant today unless you can show that the informant is a material witness with evidence that might exonerate your client. Do you have anything else?”

Like all good attorneys, Nina knew when to fight and when to shut up, how to walk the line between earning a judge's respect and needlessly awakening his anger. “Nothing further.”

“Does the defendant have witnesses?”

“Your Honor, if we could have a minute,” Nina said. The judge nodded, surprise visible on his face.

Nina whispered something to my father and grabbed the folder containing the subpoena return. Accompanied by Lawrence, she beckoned me and pushed through the swinging doors into the hallway outside the courtroom. I followed her. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, swatting me on the arm with the folder. “You didn't tell me you were planning to drop a subpoena on him.”

“Yes, I did. We talked about it this morning. What was Car going to do, invite him to lunch?”

She turned to Lawrence. “Russell Bell. You're saying he's the snitch?”

“Russell is a liar. That's what I'm saying.” Lawrence's hand trembled as he fingered the cigarettes in his chest pocket.

“How am I supposed to show that?”

Lawrence didn't make any response, just stood there.

“You want me to put him up there when I don't have any ammunition? Is that what you want? Me standing up there firing blanks, showing an empty hand?”

“Yeah,” he said with sudden heat. “Put the fucker on the stand.”

Nina asked him to go inside and wait at counsel table. Once the door had closed behind him, she turned to me. “Why would we want to call him? Who are you trying to impress?”

“You don't have to call him. It's your case.” But I reddened at the obvious answer, that I was trying to impress her. I saw in her face that she'd been aware for some time of the attention I paid her. Now, for the first time, that awareness was shading into anger.

“It's supposed to be. But I can't
not
call him now. Look, I don't practice law by ambush. Maybe that's how you do business in Oakland, but not me, not here. We gain nothing by pulling tricks. It makes us look amateurish. It turns the court against us without any tangible benefit to your dad. Who happens to be
my
client.”

She turned away, and it was as if she no longer saw me, the same way she'd looked right past the collection of characters in her waiting area the first day we met.

Nina strode through the gates to the podium.

“Your Honor, the defense calls Russell Bell. Mr. Bell has been served with a subpoena but refuses to appear. We request a body attachment.”

At the mention of Bell's name Angela Crowder threw herself back in her chair, arms crossed, with a smile of disbelief. Seeing her face, I knew we'd miscalculated—or rather, I had. Shanahan's eyes were on Lawrence.

Crowder stood and said, “May we approach the bench?”

A whispered debate then took place between Nina and Crowder at the sidebar of the judge's bench. Shanahan looked on, arms folded, and Judge Liu officiated, his chair wheeled to the edge of the platform. From where I sat, I couldn't hear a word, but I could tell that Nina was defending the corner I'd put her in as stridently as if she'd chosen that ground.

When they returned Nina was visibly upset. Crowder, on the other hand, was satisfied and triumphant. From the bench, Liu announced his ruling. “Having heard counsel's explanation, I find that the testimony would not be relevant to the issue of probable cause. Since the defense intends to call no other witnesses, I'm ready to hear argument.”

Crowder kept her remarks to a minimum, emphasizing that the informant's statement, if believed, was sufficient in itself to sustain a conviction. Nina used her time to reiterate and clarify her objection to the informant's testimony and to Liu's refusal to allow her to call Bell to the stand.

Liu promptly announced his ruling. “I find the state's informant to be credible, and I find that his statement gives rational ground for a strong suspicion that Caroline Maxwell was murdered on June twentieth, nineteen eighty-three, by the defendant with malice aforethought. In accordance with these findings I order Mr. Maxwell to be bound over for jury trial.” After consulting the calendar he set a trial date in mid-May, sixty days out. “Anything else?”

Crowder stood and made a motion to increase bail. Liu again heard arguments. In the end, he left Lawrence's bail unchanged, allowing my father to walk out of that courtroom a free man, if a man could be called free when both the past and the future pressed in on him with literal prison bars.

After the hearing Nina left without speaking to anyone other than Lawrence, taking his arm and whispering a few words, my father nodding in response, both of them avoiding my eyes. Lawrence had to use the men's room. Waiting for him in the hallway, neither Teddy nor I said a word.

Chapter 7

On the last Saturday in March, two weeks after the hearing, I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather and went for a ride. My head needed clearing, and biking was the only sure way I knew to do that. I was still bothered by the mistake I'd made at the preliminary hearing, forcing Nina's hand in a half-conscious effort to impress her. Ever since then, I'd noticed tension between us, as if she were holding herself aloof.

When my legs needed punishment, I typically looked to the horizon. Mount Tam and Mount Diablo, the Bay Area's two highest peaks, both offered steep climbs and amazing views to accompany my skyrocketing heart rate. I decided to tackle Diablo, in the East Bay, both because the air was extraordinarily clear after a few days of rain, promising views for hundreds of miles from the summit if I made it that far, and because I wanted to avoid the necessity of leaving my car in Marin County and having to ride a loop.

I rode the BART to Castro Valley station, and worked my way north and east, gaining altitude most of the way, to Diablo Road. At South Gate Road the climb began. It'd been a while since I'd made a climb as difficult as this one, and I tried to go easy on my legs. Sweat ran down my forehead and poured down my sides. My calves, quads, and ass ached as I pumped, straining to find the familiar rhythm. I had to remind myself to lift my eyes to the ever-expanding vista as the road wound around to the north side of the mountain.

I told myself that instead of trying for the summit I was going to peel off and coast north to Walnut Creek, there to catch the BART back to Oakland, but at the turn I surprised myself and kept going with a surge of power I hadn't known was there. It wasn't, really. The rest of the climb was a slog. The only thing that kept me from stopping was the knowledge that if I did, I wouldn't have the heart to point the wheel up the mountain again.

The last two hundred meters were little more than a footpath, with a grade of over thirteen percent. Near the top I finally had to let myself tip to one foot, shoulder the bike, and walk, but I'd made it and was rewarded with the view I'd hoped to find. To the west, the Sierra Nevada rose in a jagged, snowcapped line. On a day like today, supposedly it was possible to see Half Dome in Yosemite with binoculars. I'd never seen it.

Riding down, my legs were shaky, my quads aching as I coasted. There were a few moderate hills to surmount, and I was out of gas, but at last I was navigating the busy city streets to the BART, where I collapsed gratefully into a seat in one of the nearly deserted end cars where no one would mind my sweat.

Coming into MacArthur, I checked my phone and saw that Nina had left several messages, including two texts telling me to phone her right away. “I've been trying to reach you all afternoon,” she said when I did.

“I've been out of service. What's happened?”

“Russell Bell was shot to death today in San Francisco. The police have arrested your father.”

For a moment, I couldn't say anything. Then I told her that I needed to get home and shower, and after that I'd be at her office as soon as I could.

~ ~ ~

That evening, everyone except my father, who remained in custody, met in Nina's office. She'd been to the jail to see him and now had just returned. Before Dot showed up, Nina had taken the opportunity to give a lecture, with me and Teddy sitting there like a pair of kids being reprimanded. “All I can say is that it's unfortunate now that we identified Bell in open court as the snitch. If we hadn't tipped our hand, the police would have no clue that your father knew Bell's plans. Now, everything lines up to suggest that your father had him murdered.”

“What can I say?” Under different circumstances, it might have been me behind her desk, handling a high-profile case like this one. I knew that I'd made the mistakes I'd made precisely because I
wasn't
in charge. I'd wanted to show Nina I was every bit the lawyer she was, and, in doing so, I'd screwed up. “You're right, but obviously I didn't anticipate this
development.”

Nina glanced at my face, then Teddy's. “Well, somebody did.”

I heard the edge in her voice, and could only partly blame her. She'd just been slapped in the face with the most deflating news a criminal lawyer can receive, that a client with an upcoming trial has been arrested for another serious crime. Dot arrived, and Nina stepped out to let her in the street door. When the two of them returned, Car quickly filled us in on what he'd learned of the murdered man. “Eric Gainer hired Russell Bell to drive for him two years ago, a month or so after his reelection, right after Bell got out of prison. Thanks to your father for that. No one seems to know about their previous connection. Bell was shot in Gainer's car this morning on a dead-end street outside a warehouse down near Mission Bay. No witnesses.” Car closed his notebook. “For the record, I was sitting at home with my dick in my hand.”

Nina stood at the window, arms clasped to her chest. She wore tight charcoal jeans and a sleeveless pale-green blouse that showed off her slender, toned arms. A pendant and matching silver earrings contrasted with the darkness of her loose-braided hair. She gave an impression of fatigue tempered by discipline. “I think they'll have to release him by Monday,” she told us.

Car said, “I'd been following Bell, just like Leo wanted. Dogging his every step. They start questioning witnesses they're bound to find someone who recognizes me. Not from the scene, but still . . .”

Ignoring him, I spoke to Nina. “So we wait. We don't do anything.”

“I don't see what other option we have.” Her eyes went to Car. He was a compact, muscular man with a shaved head, dressed in jeans and a blazer, tattoos showing at his wrists and neck. He'd worked for Teddy a long time but, with me, was always his own boss.

“He was with me all day,” Dot broke in. “I don't see why they're still holding him. I don't see what you all are so worried about.”

Nina turned from the window. “It's clear that the police don't believe you.”

“Well, that's what I told them, and that's what I'm telling you. We went for a ride down the coast, bought lunch in Half Moon Bay, then came back via the Peninsula.”

“Someone must have seen you eat lunch. The waiter, other diners at the restaurant.”

“We bought sandwiches, then took them to the beach. When I went in to get the sandwiches, Lawrence stayed outside with the bikes.”

No one said anything for a moment, and then Teddy spoke. “Like Nina says, they'll hold him over the weekend. Then on Monday they'll have to cut him free.”

Nina's tone was neutral as she went on speaking to Dot, the voice of a defense lawyer closing down her critical instinct. “You'll testify to everything you just told me, that he was with you the whole morning.”

Dot returned her stare. “That's right. We weren't anywhere near the city when the shooting went down.”

“What about the two of you?” Nina asked, turning to Teddy and me.

“I was on my bike at Mount Diablo. Alone,” I said. “I'm sure Teddy was at home.”

Teddy nodded to confirm this. “That's the point,” Car broke in. “You weren't alone, but I was. I'm not going to be hung out to dry by you or any other defense lawyer.” He rose and walked out.

Teddy got up with an apologetic glance at Nina and followed him. Nina nodded, as if Teddy's going after the investigator only confirmed her suspicions. Dot glanced between Nina and me. After a moment of silence, she rose. “You'll call me with any updates,” she said. Nina nodded and Dot went out.

“You're misjudging Teddy and my father if you think either of them could have been involved,” I said to Nina when we were alone.

“Am I? I look at Teddy and I see a mind working, scheming. Lying in wait.”

Ever since Teddy's shooting I'd nurtured the fantasy that my brother's old personality, his skill and guile, had somehow survived intact behind the shell of his diminished self. But the truth was his disposition had changed. All his ruthless instincts had drained away. Her vision of him conniving behind the scenes awakened a certain longing in me, even if it was murder she was accusing him of. I had to wonder if that's what I wanted, if I would trade my brother's new gentleness for his former duplicitous strength.

“None of us had anything to do with this, Nina,” I told her. “You must know me well enough now to realize that.”

She sat behind her desk, arms folded. “I'm supposed to be the captain of the ship—and I'm not. It's becoming clear to me that someone else has his hand on the tiller. You say it isn't you. Well, I'd like to know whose hand it is.”

“If what you say is true, if they've got no evidence, then this whole thing could be over before it starts. I think you're right. There's nothing to do but wait.”

She nodded, and it appeared for a moment that the conversation was over. Then, seeming to change her mind, she went on in a rush, holding out a hand to stop me from interrupting. “Listen, people say things about your brother and this investigator of his that concern me. We don't need to get into specifics. I'm sure much of it is overblown. I just want you to know that such rumors make me very uncomfortable with the situation that's developing. I shouldn't need to tell you this, but I'm your father's lawyer, and a damn good one. I don't represent your brother. Or you.”

I didn't trust myself to speak. “You're way off base,” I said at last.

“I don't care how off base I am as long as we understand each other.”

I dropped onto the sofa in her office, tipped my head back and simply looked at her, more pained by this accusation than I ought to have been. She faced me across the room. She'd just let me know that if she could pin anything on me or on my brother, she would. I didn't think Lawrence would permit that, but still, the prospect sobered me. She kept on staring at me, not flinching.

I rose to leave.