Smash Cut (9 page)
Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia
Dodge Hanley plopped down in one of the chairs facing Dereks desk and slid a folder across to him. Thats what Ive got so far.
Derek opened the folder, scanned several sheets of printed material. In a nutshell?
Dodge exuded the odor of stale cigarette smoke. Despite all the warnings about the life-threatening effects of tobacco use, he hadnt even tried to break the habit and harbored a resentment bordering on scorn toward all smokers who did, calling them cowards. His nicotine-stained fingers drummed the arms of the chair, and he shifted in search of a more comfortable position, which was in vain, because he was never entirely comfortable unless a cigarette was in his hand.
In a nutshell, shes clean. No arrests, not even a misdemeanor.
Childhood?
Grew up in Aiken. Mom and Dad worked for the public school system. He was a teacher, she worked in the administration building. Churchgoing, tax-paying, solid citizens. No brothers or sisters. Parents now deceased.
Before going on, he took a wheezing breath. Your girl there is smart. Got a full academic scholarship to Vanderbilt, and then four years later was awarded a fellowship to further her art studies in France. Met and married some Frog artist. Cant remember his name, but its in there.
Derek didnt tell Dodge he already knew about her marriage and divorce. What about him?
Nothing about him. No fame, no fortune, apparently no talent. He and she divorced after three years, but by that time Paul Wheeler had entered her life. Lucky break for her.
Derek raised his head and looked across his desk at Dodge, whose face, seamed and jaundiced from years of smoking, remained impassive despite his editorial comment. He was unflappable, cynical, and nothing much surprised him, because in the forty-plus years hed been tracking down villains, he claimed to have seen it all. He ranked most human beings lower than animals.
Hed been a detective for the sheriffs department when he came up against Derek in the courtroom. Dodge was testifying for the prosecution, but his total recall and attention to detail made an impression on Derek during cross-examination. Following the trial, which Derek had won, hed sought out the curmudgeonly Dodge and asked if hed be interested in working full-time for his firm.
Dodge had scoffed. And go over to the dark side? No thank you, Counselor.
Ill double your salary.
When do I start?
Actually, Dodge had been happy to leave the sheriffs department, where stringent rules of investigation and interrogation were enforced. As he and Derek sealed their deal over beers, Dodge had asked, Are you persnickety about how I obtain information?
No. But if youre caught doing something unethical or illegal, youre on your own.
No problem. Dodge had slurped his beer. I wont get caught.
Which didnt exactly assure Derek that his methods were aboveboard, but he never asked how or where or through whom Dodge secured his information, feeling he was better off not knowing.
Because of the smoking ban in public buildings, and Marlenes ill-concealed dislike for his ashtray bouquet, Dodge worked out of his homewherever that was. Derek had no idea. Dodge had given him a cell telephone number and a post office box, to which Derek sent his paychecks. Otherwise, Dodge didnt advertise his where abouts or what he did between assignments. But he responded quickly whenever Derek issued a request.
Last night, after seeing Julie Rutledge on the evening news, Derek had glanced through the files Marlene had sent home with him, specifically looking for references to Paul Wheelers companion. She was mentioned frequently, but there wasnt much personal information about her, and his home computer had yielded little that wasnt in relation to the gallery. Hed called Dodge and asked him to get the lowdown.
When do you need it?
Yesterday.
You got it.
As usual, Dodge had come through. Hed been waiting for him at the firm when Derek arrived after his volatile encounter at Chez Jean. He asked now, Howd this lucky break for Julie Rutledge come about? Howd she and Wheeler hook up?
Dodge patted his shirt pocket as though looking for a rogue cigarette. That I dont know. He was a rich American with good connections in Paris. She worked in a highfalutin gallery and was supporting herself and her sorry husband, so what Im guessing is
Wait. Sorry husband?
No reported income. Two arrests for drunk and disorderly. Or the French equivalent.
Okay.
Where was I?
So what youre guessing.
What Im guessing is that Wheeler met her through mutual acquaintances in the art world. But thats purely speculation, you understand.
Derek nodded.
However it came about, shes soon shed of the deadbeat husband, and she and Wheeler are a pair. He brought her back to the U.S. and set her up in business here in Atlanta.
Gee. Wonder how she returned that favor?
Dodges laugh sounded like loose gravel in a tin cup. You think he was her sugar daddy?
Dont you?
Well, maybe he was to start. But Julies a savvy gal. Wheeler didnt give her the money to buy the gallery, he loaned it. Actually, the bank loaned it, Wheeler just cosigned the note. The gallery didnt turn a profit the first year, but shes been in the black and making money since. Loan was paid back. She bought her house in Garden Hills herself, pays her own bills and credit card debts. Shes financially independent of Wheeler. At least thats how it looks on paper.
Derek rolled back his desk chair and stood up. He stepped over Maggie, who was sprawled on the floor, snoring, and moved to the wall of glass. Minutes passed while he stared vacantly at the view and thought about what he knew of Julie Rutledge, past and present.
Well, shit.
On the one hand, Dodges report was a letdown. Her background wasnt as sordid as he had expected. Dodge hadnt uncovered an ah-ha factorlike a long list of benefactorswith which Derek could condemn her. On the other hand, he was glad something criminal or iniquitous hadnt been excavated.
She was precisely what she appeared on the surface to be, an intelligent, cultured, and educated woman, successful in her own right, whod had the good fortune to fall in love with a very wealthy man, and to have her love reciprocated.
Shed been kneeling beside the love of her life when the back of his head was blown off. She wanted his killer captured and punished to the fullest extent of the law. To that end, shed shanghaied the man she thought might prevent that. Shed resorted to the oldest trick in the book, which also happened to be, as shed emphasized to him, the most expeditious and effective.
Maybe it was as simple as that, and he was only trying to make it more complicated.
He was so lost in thought, hed almost forgot Dodge was there until the investigator said, Want to tell me how come youre so interested in her?
Ive been retained by the family to represent them during the investigation into Wheelers shooting.
Niiiice, Dodge drawled. Beaucoup bucks coming our way. But shes not a Wheeler. She hire you, too?
No, but she iswasa fundamental aspect of Wheelers life the last couple years. I wanted some background.
Have you met her?
I saw her on TV. Which wasnt the whole truth, but it definitely wasnt a lie.
You think she was involved?
I dont know what to think, Derek muttered, meaning it. He came back around. Dodge was already standing, preparing to leave. He could go only so long without taking a hit of nicotine. What did you dig up on Creighton Wheeler?
Spends a lot of money, plays a lot of tennis, drives flashy cars. Hes received a handful of speeding tickets, all of which a judge made go bye-bye. Didnt find anything that relates to his late uncle Paul.
Could he have done it?
He has an alibi.
Could he have done it? Derek repeated in a quieter voice.
Dodge exhaled a breath fraught with noxious fumes. Anythings possible.
Gut feeling?
I wouldnt want my daughter to date this guy.
You dont have a daughter.
If I did.
Why not?
He likes whores. Two, three a week. Not hookers. The agency girls. Not that theres anything wrong with that, but
But you wouldnt want your daughter involved with him.
Neither would you. Dodge ran his hand over his mouth, stretching out the lower lip before letting it spring back. But to kill for millions when hes already got millions? What would be the point? Why not just wait the uncle out, let him die of natural causes, and then cash in?
I tend to agree, Derek said. Besides, two good detectives have questioned him extensively since it happened, and theyve got nothing on him. In fact, if you believe their press releases, theyve got nothing, period.
Theyve got something now. Dodge pointed at the folders hed brought in. Its in there, bottom of the stack.
Give me a hint.
And spoil the surprise? Suffice it to say, its the latest, hot-off-the-presses goods from the hallowed halls of the PD.
Derek shook his head in wonderment. Someday before I die, or before you do, promise youll tell me who your moles are.
Ill dance at your funeral, and my secrets will die with me. Dodge grinned and headed for the door. By the way, your poker face could use some work, Counselor.
What do you mean?
Dodge turned. Tongue in cheek, he said, I saw her on TV, too.
Derek opened the folder, scanned several sheets of printed material. In a nutshell?
Dodge exuded the odor of stale cigarette smoke. Despite all the warnings about the life-threatening effects of tobacco use, he hadnt even tried to break the habit and harbored a resentment bordering on scorn toward all smokers who did, calling them cowards. His nicotine-stained fingers drummed the arms of the chair, and he shifted in search of a more comfortable position, which was in vain, because he was never entirely comfortable unless a cigarette was in his hand.
In a nutshell, shes clean. No arrests, not even a misdemeanor.
Childhood?
Grew up in Aiken. Mom and Dad worked for the public school system. He was a teacher, she worked in the administration building. Churchgoing, tax-paying, solid citizens. No brothers or sisters. Parents now deceased.
Before going on, he took a wheezing breath. Your girl there is smart. Got a full academic scholarship to Vanderbilt, and then four years later was awarded a fellowship to further her art studies in France. Met and married some Frog artist. Cant remember his name, but its in there.
Derek didnt tell Dodge he already knew about her marriage and divorce. What about him?
Nothing about him. No fame, no fortune, apparently no talent. He and she divorced after three years, but by that time Paul Wheeler had entered her life. Lucky break for her.
Derek raised his head and looked across his desk at Dodge, whose face, seamed and jaundiced from years of smoking, remained impassive despite his editorial comment. He was unflappable, cynical, and nothing much surprised him, because in the forty-plus years hed been tracking down villains, he claimed to have seen it all. He ranked most human beings lower than animals.
Hed been a detective for the sheriffs department when he came up against Derek in the courtroom. Dodge was testifying for the prosecution, but his total recall and attention to detail made an impression on Derek during cross-examination. Following the trial, which Derek had won, hed sought out the curmudgeonly Dodge and asked if hed be interested in working full-time for his firm.
Dodge had scoffed. And go over to the dark side? No thank you, Counselor.
Ill double your salary.
When do I start?
Actually, Dodge had been happy to leave the sheriffs department, where stringent rules of investigation and interrogation were enforced. As he and Derek sealed their deal over beers, Dodge had asked, Are you persnickety about how I obtain information?
No. But if youre caught doing something unethical or illegal, youre on your own.
No problem. Dodge had slurped his beer. I wont get caught.
Which didnt exactly assure Derek that his methods were aboveboard, but he never asked how or where or through whom Dodge secured his information, feeling he was better off not knowing.
Because of the smoking ban in public buildings, and Marlenes ill-concealed dislike for his ashtray bouquet, Dodge worked out of his homewherever that was. Derek had no idea. Dodge had given him a cell telephone number and a post office box, to which Derek sent his paychecks. Otherwise, Dodge didnt advertise his where abouts or what he did between assignments. But he responded quickly whenever Derek issued a request.
Last night, after seeing Julie Rutledge on the evening news, Derek had glanced through the files Marlene had sent home with him, specifically looking for references to Paul Wheelers companion. She was mentioned frequently, but there wasnt much personal information about her, and his home computer had yielded little that wasnt in relation to the gallery. Hed called Dodge and asked him to get the lowdown.
When do you need it?
Yesterday.
You got it.
As usual, Dodge had come through. Hed been waiting for him at the firm when Derek arrived after his volatile encounter at Chez Jean. He asked now, Howd this lucky break for Julie Rutledge come about? Howd she and Wheeler hook up?
Dodge patted his shirt pocket as though looking for a rogue cigarette. That I dont know. He was a rich American with good connections in Paris. She worked in a highfalutin gallery and was supporting herself and her sorry husband, so what Im guessing is
Wait. Sorry husband?
No reported income. Two arrests for drunk and disorderly. Or the French equivalent.
Okay.
Where was I?
So what youre guessing.
What Im guessing is that Wheeler met her through mutual acquaintances in the art world. But thats purely speculation, you understand.
Derek nodded.
However it came about, shes soon shed of the deadbeat husband, and she and Wheeler are a pair. He brought her back to the U.S. and set her up in business here in Atlanta.
Gee. Wonder how she returned that favor?
Dodges laugh sounded like loose gravel in a tin cup. You think he was her sugar daddy?
Dont you?
Well, maybe he was to start. But Julies a savvy gal. Wheeler didnt give her the money to buy the gallery, he loaned it. Actually, the bank loaned it, Wheeler just cosigned the note. The gallery didnt turn a profit the first year, but shes been in the black and making money since. Loan was paid back. She bought her house in Garden Hills herself, pays her own bills and credit card debts. Shes financially independent of Wheeler. At least thats how it looks on paper.
Derek rolled back his desk chair and stood up. He stepped over Maggie, who was sprawled on the floor, snoring, and moved to the wall of glass. Minutes passed while he stared vacantly at the view and thought about what he knew of Julie Rutledge, past and present.
Well, shit.
On the one hand, Dodges report was a letdown. Her background wasnt as sordid as he had expected. Dodge hadnt uncovered an ah-ha factorlike a long list of benefactorswith which Derek could condemn her. On the other hand, he was glad something criminal or iniquitous hadnt been excavated.
She was precisely what she appeared on the surface to be, an intelligent, cultured, and educated woman, successful in her own right, whod had the good fortune to fall in love with a very wealthy man, and to have her love reciprocated.
Shed been kneeling beside the love of her life when the back of his head was blown off. She wanted his killer captured and punished to the fullest extent of the law. To that end, shed shanghaied the man she thought might prevent that. Shed resorted to the oldest trick in the book, which also happened to be, as shed emphasized to him, the most expeditious and effective.
Maybe it was as simple as that, and he was only trying to make it more complicated.
He was so lost in thought, hed almost forgot Dodge was there until the investigator said, Want to tell me how come youre so interested in her?
Ive been retained by the family to represent them during the investigation into Wheelers shooting.
Niiiice, Dodge drawled. Beaucoup bucks coming our way. But shes not a Wheeler. She hire you, too?
No, but she iswasa fundamental aspect of Wheelers life the last couple years. I wanted some background.
Have you met her?
I saw her on TV. Which wasnt the whole truth, but it definitely wasnt a lie.
You think she was involved?
I dont know what to think, Derek muttered, meaning it. He came back around. Dodge was already standing, preparing to leave. He could go only so long without taking a hit of nicotine. What did you dig up on Creighton Wheeler?
Spends a lot of money, plays a lot of tennis, drives flashy cars. Hes received a handful of speeding tickets, all of which a judge made go bye-bye. Didnt find anything that relates to his late uncle Paul.
Could he have done it?
He has an alibi.
Could he have done it? Derek repeated in a quieter voice.
Dodge exhaled a breath fraught with noxious fumes. Anythings possible.
Gut feeling?
I wouldnt want my daughter to date this guy.
You dont have a daughter.
If I did.
Why not?
He likes whores. Two, three a week. Not hookers. The agency girls. Not that theres anything wrong with that, but
But you wouldnt want your daughter involved with him.
Neither would you. Dodge ran his hand over his mouth, stretching out the lower lip before letting it spring back. But to kill for millions when hes already got millions? What would be the point? Why not just wait the uncle out, let him die of natural causes, and then cash in?
I tend to agree, Derek said. Besides, two good detectives have questioned him extensively since it happened, and theyve got nothing on him. In fact, if you believe their press releases, theyve got nothing, period.
Theyve got something now. Dodge pointed at the folders hed brought in. Its in there, bottom of the stack.
Give me a hint.
And spoil the surprise? Suffice it to say, its the latest, hot-off-the-presses goods from the hallowed halls of the PD.
Derek shook his head in wonderment. Someday before I die, or before you do, promise youll tell me who your moles are.
Ill dance at your funeral, and my secrets will die with me. Dodge grinned and headed for the door. By the way, your poker face could use some work, Counselor.
What do you mean?
Dodge turned. Tongue in cheek, he said, I saw her on TV, too.
CHAPTER
9
M
R. MITCHELL, MR. WHEELER IS HERE.
Marlene stood aside, and Creighton Wheeler strolled into Dereks office.
Derek stood up and met the young man halfway. Derek Mitchell.
Creighton Wheeler.
Derek extended his hand, but Creighton was taking in the view beyond the wall of windows and didnt notice. Marlene said to buzz her if they needed anything and slipped out. Derek motioned Creighton toward the same grouping of chairs where hed met with his father the day before. Make yourself comfortable.
I always do, Creighton said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs.
Maggie whined and ambled over to sniff him. Thats Maggie, Derek said.
Most people reached out to pat her on the head. Women clucked and cooed over her. Men asked if she was a trained hunting dog. Creighton Wheeler, however, showed a marked lack of interest, except to say, Pleased to make your acquaintance, Maggie.
The office held much more interest for him. He continued his slow survey of it, but whether with appreciation or disapproval, Derek had no idea. His expression was mildly curious, but otherwise it gave away nothing of what he was thinking.
Derek sat down across from him. Help yourself. On the low table between them, Marlene had placed the ice bucket, drinking glasses, and bottled water.
No thank you.
He was more handsome than most movie stars of his age. Of any age. Derek thought his blond hair might have been artificially highlighted, but if so, it had been expertly done. His clear blue eyes were so guileless Derek automatically suspected him of guile. He gave off an air of boredom, condescension, and private amusement.
Derek decided instantly that he didnt like him. Youre half an hour late.
The blue eyes stopped their scan of the office and fixed on Derek. Am I? Sorry. I was babysitting my Porsche. You can bill me for the minutes I missed.
I will. Dereks smile was no more sincere than Creightons apology. My condolences over the loss of your uncle.
Thanks, but its not like Im all torn up about it.
Derek wasnt surprised by his candor. A person with Creightons arrogance usually didnt mince words. Your father mentioned to me that the two of you had your differences.
What weve got here is failure to communicate.
Derek frowned. Im sorry?
Cool Hand Luke.
Strother Martin as the prison warden. Great character actor. He was in
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
, too.
Another Paul Newman movie.
Creighton gave Derek his first genuine smile. Im impressed. You know some cinema history. Remember the film where Newman played the burned-out lawyer?
Derek realized he was being gigged, but he kept his expression pleasant and went along. Remind me.
The Verdict.
This is the case, this is the case, this is the case. Newman chants it. Very convincingly. He should have won his Oscar for that film instead of
The Color of Money.
When he died, we lost one of the greats.
Your father told me that you were an ardent movie fan.
Creighton seemed to take exception to the term. More than that. I studied film at UCLA.
You wanted to be a moviemaker?
He winced. God no. Too much hard work. Lousy hours. Having to answer to assholes and put up with temper tantrums from strung-out prima donnas and has-beens? Not for me, Mr. Mitchell. Id rather watch the movies other people make.
As a critic?
No, only for entertainment. I had no ambition for the industry itself. Or for any other industry, for that matter. Which was just one of the issues my dearly departed uncle and I disagreed on. He thought I should have majored in business, gone to Harvard, gotten an MBA, gotten hard-ons over P and L statements and spreadsheets. I dont think so, he added drolly.
But you do work in the family business.
I have an office at corporate headquarters. I dont work.
He flashed Derek a perfect grin, which Derek felt an urge to damage with his fist. Curbing the impulse, he placed his hand on Maggies head and rubbed it the way she liked. Your father thinks you need the services of a criminal lawyer.
Hes a worrier.
Watching him closely to gauge his reaction, Derek asked, Has he got cause to worry?
If you mean because those detectives are harassing me, then yes. If you mean because Im guilty of something, no. I was playing tennis when my uncle was killed.
So Ive heard.
Besides, if I had killed my uncle Paul, it wouldnt have been during a fucked-up robbery.
Derek poured himself a glass of water and took a drink. Sure you wont have some?
No thanks.
On the news last night, your uncles companion told reporters she didnt think it was a robbery.
Companion? Creighton repeated with a sneer. Synonymous with
whore?
Is that what you think of Julie Rutledge?
I had a prostitute at my place last night, he said with a negligent gesture. Im not a moralist. I dont care that old Uncle Paul still got his rocks off. In fact, good for him. Just dont window-dress it. He made Julie out to be something special, when actually she would screw a dog if she thought it would benefit her.
Derek returned his glass of water to the table, wiped the condensation off his hands, and when that didnt work to stop the rush of resentment and anger coursing through him, he got up and walked to his desk.
Why do you think the investigators keep coming back around to you?
Hell if I know, Creighton replied casually. To give themselves something to do, I suppose. Theyve got to look busy to their superiors. Theyve got to justify their paychecks. Of course, Julies sly little remarks dont help.
Sly little remarks?
Every chance she gets, she nudges them in my direction.
Why would she do that?
Because theres no love lost between us.
How come? What happened?
He chuckled. Nothing. Thats the problem.
Derek returned to his chair and sat down. Sounds to me like theres a story.
Creighton smiled, seemed to consider whether or not to tell the story, then said, Out of the blue, my uncle brought her back with him from Paris and made no secret of being besotted. Which surprised everyone because hed thought my aunt Mary hung the moon. But my father said Uncle Paul was lonely, and wasnt it great that hed met this woman he could care for. He said we should be nice to her, make her feel welcome, if for no other reason, for Uncle Pauls sake. So, he said with an indolent shrug, we made nice.
One Sunday night my mom asked them over for a cookout. We were all hanging out on the terrace. I went into the pool house to grab a Coke from the fridge. Julie followed me in, and in seconds she was all over me. Im talking Kathleen Turner in
Body Heat.
So I thought what the hell, and played William Hurt for a minute or two. A conversation was taking place between my parents and Uncle Paul not twenty feet away, while his girlfriends mouth is wrapped around my dick. I think the danger of being caught was a real turn-on for her.
Creighton was laughing at the memory. It was crazy and kinky, and with any other woman it would have been fun. But screwing Julie wasnt worth the hullabaloo it wouldve caused if Uncle Paul had walked in on us, so I pushed her away, told her I wasnt taking my uncles leftovers, and left her in the pool house while I rejoined the party.
When she came out several minutes behind me, she was so pissed, she wouldnt even look in my direction. She told Uncle Paul she had developed a headache and wanted to go home. Like a good puppyno offense to your dog therehe left with her. Shes hated me ever since.
Derek could feel his pulse in every vein. His body was feverish. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. You think shes implicating you out of spite?
Creighton made a face. Who knows why a woman does anything?
Indeed
, Derek thought. It wont matter how hard she nudges the investigation toward you if the police can find no evidence against you.
There isnt any. They havent got anything.
That was yesterday. Today they do.
Creightons face remained perfectly calm. Derek had been watching, and the young mans demeanor didnt change one iota. His eyes didnt flicker. His mouth didnt tense. He didnt flinch. Nothing.
They have video surveillance in the hotel lobby, Derek said.
One would expect that.
The police have isolated a guy who left the hotel within minutes of the robbery.
Him and how many others?
Point taken. But they can put names to the others. Not this guy. Not so far anyway. He wasnt a guest. He didnt park in the garage, eat in the restaurant, or drink in the bar.
My God! Monstrous! If that isnt criminal behavior, I dont know what is.
Derek gave him a look, then pulled a photograph from the folder hed carried over from his desk and laid it on the table. Creighton leaned forward and looked at it, then laughed.
This is the big crime-solving breakthrough? Jesus. Our tax dollars at work. Still chuckling, he said, The only thing obvious is that it isnt a picture of me. I wouldnt be caught dead in that shirt.
No recognition?
He took another look at the photo. You know, now that you mention it, he looks a little like the Elephant Man. Which is one reason I avoid being photographed. I hate being at the mercy of the camera as well as the photographer.
Derek returned the picture to the folder, made a point of lining up the edges of it with the other contents, then got up and returned the folder to his desk. As he turned back to Creighton, he announced what hed decided the moment he laid eyes on the young man. Im not going to take you on as a client, Mr. Wheeler.
That elicited a reaction. Excuse me?
Im not going to
I heard you, Creighton said testily. Why not?
Because youre a despicable smart-ass.
That was the basic, underlying reason. During the last several minutes, Derek had decided that he could never provide Creighton Wheeler with an impartial defense because he absolutely could not stand the cocky bastard. He had represented some of the slimiest miscreants in Georgia, and hed never let a disagreeable personality be the determining factor for saying no. But his aversion to this man was so intense, Derek could not be his advocate on any level.
His reasons for declining to represent Creighton Wheeler had nothing to do with Julie Rutledge, really. Even if hed never met her, his decision would have been the same.
Realizing he couldnt be that blunt with the young millionaire, he smiled at him as he returned to his chair and sat down. Im turning you down primarily because you dont need me, and I wont take your money, or your fathers, for doing nothing. Sore losers have ac cused me of being unscrupulous. Ill own up to pulling some clever courtroom tricks. But Ive never fleeced a client.
You had two excellent motives for wanting Paul Wheeler dead. Your relationship with him was antagonistic, and youre heir to his estate. The police would have pounced on either one of those. Combined, its a pretty incriminating package.
But, they cant get beyond the fact that you lacked opportunity. You have an alibi, substantiated by several people. You couldnt have been in that hotel at the time of the shooting. Of course you could have hired someone to kill him
It wouldnt have been that guy, Creighton said with derision, gesturing to the photographs. What a moron.
Exactly, Derek said. You could afford the best hit man in the world. Someone with a much more subtle technique. He paused for a moment, then continued. Paul Wheeler was worth a fortune. He was only fifty-two and in good health, so he might have lived another thirty or forty years. For the sake of argument, lets say you got impatient to inherit his millions. Would you actually risk the promise of his legacy, as well as the sizable trust fund you have now, by committing murder and losing everything?
That would be completely irrational.
It would, yes.
Creighton plucked at the crease of his linen trousers. I think the detectives are smart enough to see that. But what about Julies badmouthing?
They havent credited it. I surmise that Sanford and Kimball have taken her insinuations against you for what they are. Sour grapes. Reprisal. Jealousy. Whatever. They havent acted on them, so we can assume, safely I believe, that theyve dismissed them.
Creighton grinned. I like the way you think, Mr. Mitchell. I want you as my lawyer.
Derek shook his head. Sorry.
My father has already paid you a retainer.
Which hell get back. Ill bill him for yesterdays meeting and for today, but the retainer check will be returned.
Do you want to up your fee?
Its not a matter of money.
Everything is a matter of money.
Not this.
Since when can you fire a client?
Since now.
Creighton held his stare for several moments, then again flashed the cocky grin that set Dereks teeth on edge. Whats the real problem here?
Derek stood up, indicating the conclusion of the meeting. The problem is that your father wanted me to be at your beck and call. I dont work that way. Ive checked my caseload and trial schedule, and done some soul-searching.
A lawyer with a soul?
Derek gave him a token smile. My soul, conscience, whatever you want to call it, wont let me take on a new client at the expense of those Im already committed to. Ive got my hands full preparing for Jason Connors trial.
The kid who slaughtered his parents?
Derek didnt acknowledge that. Hes only sixteen, and his life is at stake. In order to accommodate you, Id have to use some of the time allocated to his case. Id be stretched very thin, and that wouldnt be fair to anyone. Bottom line, I wont do it.
Father wont like it. And neither do I.
Derek went to the door and pulled it open. I can refer you to someone equally good.
There is no one equally good. Why do you think we came to you?
Im flattered by the confidence you placed in me. Im sorry I cant help you.
Creighton stared at him for a count of ten, then walked through the door with all the hauteur of the boy who was taking his ball and going home because he hadnt been chosen captain.
He walked past Marlenes desk without so much as a nod and continued down the hallway to the reception area, where a wall of glass separated the law office from the corridor. When he reached it, he put his back to the door, and holding Dereks stare down the length of the hall, pushed it open. He backed out and strode off in the direction of the elevator.
R. MITCHELL, MR. WHEELER IS HERE.
Marlene stood aside, and Creighton Wheeler strolled into Dereks office.
Derek stood up and met the young man halfway. Derek Mitchell.
Creighton Wheeler.
Derek extended his hand, but Creighton was taking in the view beyond the wall of windows and didnt notice. Marlene said to buzz her if they needed anything and slipped out. Derek motioned Creighton toward the same grouping of chairs where hed met with his father the day before. Make yourself comfortable.
I always do, Creighton said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs.
Maggie whined and ambled over to sniff him. Thats Maggie, Derek said.
Most people reached out to pat her on the head. Women clucked and cooed over her. Men asked if she was a trained hunting dog. Creighton Wheeler, however, showed a marked lack of interest, except to say, Pleased to make your acquaintance, Maggie.
The office held much more interest for him. He continued his slow survey of it, but whether with appreciation or disapproval, Derek had no idea. His expression was mildly curious, but otherwise it gave away nothing of what he was thinking.
Derek sat down across from him. Help yourself. On the low table between them, Marlene had placed the ice bucket, drinking glasses, and bottled water.
No thank you.
He was more handsome than most movie stars of his age. Of any age. Derek thought his blond hair might have been artificially highlighted, but if so, it had been expertly done. His clear blue eyes were so guileless Derek automatically suspected him of guile. He gave off an air of boredom, condescension, and private amusement.
Derek decided instantly that he didnt like him. Youre half an hour late.
The blue eyes stopped their scan of the office and fixed on Derek. Am I? Sorry. I was babysitting my Porsche. You can bill me for the minutes I missed.
I will. Dereks smile was no more sincere than Creightons apology. My condolences over the loss of your uncle.
Thanks, but its not like Im all torn up about it.
Derek wasnt surprised by his candor. A person with Creightons arrogance usually didnt mince words. Your father mentioned to me that the two of you had your differences.
What weve got here is failure to communicate.
Derek frowned. Im sorry?
Cool Hand Luke.
Strother Martin as the prison warden. Great character actor. He was in
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
, too.
Another Paul Newman movie.
Creighton gave Derek his first genuine smile. Im impressed. You know some cinema history. Remember the film where Newman played the burned-out lawyer?
Derek realized he was being gigged, but he kept his expression pleasant and went along. Remind me.
The Verdict.
This is the case, this is the case, this is the case. Newman chants it. Very convincingly. He should have won his Oscar for that film instead of
The Color of Money.
When he died, we lost one of the greats.
Your father told me that you were an ardent movie fan.
Creighton seemed to take exception to the term. More than that. I studied film at UCLA.
You wanted to be a moviemaker?
He winced. God no. Too much hard work. Lousy hours. Having to answer to assholes and put up with temper tantrums from strung-out prima donnas and has-beens? Not for me, Mr. Mitchell. Id rather watch the movies other people make.
As a critic?
No, only for entertainment. I had no ambition for the industry itself. Or for any other industry, for that matter. Which was just one of the issues my dearly departed uncle and I disagreed on. He thought I should have majored in business, gone to Harvard, gotten an MBA, gotten hard-ons over P and L statements and spreadsheets. I dont think so, he added drolly.
But you do work in the family business.
I have an office at corporate headquarters. I dont work.
He flashed Derek a perfect grin, which Derek felt an urge to damage with his fist. Curbing the impulse, he placed his hand on Maggies head and rubbed it the way she liked. Your father thinks you need the services of a criminal lawyer.
Hes a worrier.
Watching him closely to gauge his reaction, Derek asked, Has he got cause to worry?
If you mean because those detectives are harassing me, then yes. If you mean because Im guilty of something, no. I was playing tennis when my uncle was killed.
So Ive heard.
Besides, if I had killed my uncle Paul, it wouldnt have been during a fucked-up robbery.
Derek poured himself a glass of water and took a drink. Sure you wont have some?
No thanks.
On the news last night, your uncles companion told reporters she didnt think it was a robbery.
Companion? Creighton repeated with a sneer. Synonymous with
whore?
Is that what you think of Julie Rutledge?
I had a prostitute at my place last night, he said with a negligent gesture. Im not a moralist. I dont care that old Uncle Paul still got his rocks off. In fact, good for him. Just dont window-dress it. He made Julie out to be something special, when actually she would screw a dog if she thought it would benefit her.
Derek returned his glass of water to the table, wiped the condensation off his hands, and when that didnt work to stop the rush of resentment and anger coursing through him, he got up and walked to his desk.
Why do you think the investigators keep coming back around to you?
Hell if I know, Creighton replied casually. To give themselves something to do, I suppose. Theyve got to look busy to their superiors. Theyve got to justify their paychecks. Of course, Julies sly little remarks dont help.
Sly little remarks?
Every chance she gets, she nudges them in my direction.
Why would she do that?
Because theres no love lost between us.
How come? What happened?
He chuckled. Nothing. Thats the problem.
Derek returned to his chair and sat down. Sounds to me like theres a story.
Creighton smiled, seemed to consider whether or not to tell the story, then said, Out of the blue, my uncle brought her back with him from Paris and made no secret of being besotted. Which surprised everyone because hed thought my aunt Mary hung the moon. But my father said Uncle Paul was lonely, and wasnt it great that hed met this woman he could care for. He said we should be nice to her, make her feel welcome, if for no other reason, for Uncle Pauls sake. So, he said with an indolent shrug, we made nice.
One Sunday night my mom asked them over for a cookout. We were all hanging out on the terrace. I went into the pool house to grab a Coke from the fridge. Julie followed me in, and in seconds she was all over me. Im talking Kathleen Turner in
Body Heat.
So I thought what the hell, and played William Hurt for a minute or two. A conversation was taking place between my parents and Uncle Paul not twenty feet away, while his girlfriends mouth is wrapped around my dick. I think the danger of being caught was a real turn-on for her.
Creighton was laughing at the memory. It was crazy and kinky, and with any other woman it would have been fun. But screwing Julie wasnt worth the hullabaloo it wouldve caused if Uncle Paul had walked in on us, so I pushed her away, told her I wasnt taking my uncles leftovers, and left her in the pool house while I rejoined the party.
When she came out several minutes behind me, she was so pissed, she wouldnt even look in my direction. She told Uncle Paul she had developed a headache and wanted to go home. Like a good puppyno offense to your dog therehe left with her. Shes hated me ever since.
Derek could feel his pulse in every vein. His body was feverish. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. You think shes implicating you out of spite?
Creighton made a face. Who knows why a woman does anything?
Indeed
, Derek thought. It wont matter how hard she nudges the investigation toward you if the police can find no evidence against you.
There isnt any. They havent got anything.
That was yesterday. Today they do.
Creightons face remained perfectly calm. Derek had been watching, and the young mans demeanor didnt change one iota. His eyes didnt flicker. His mouth didnt tense. He didnt flinch. Nothing.
They have video surveillance in the hotel lobby, Derek said.
One would expect that.
The police have isolated a guy who left the hotel within minutes of the robbery.
Him and how many others?
Point taken. But they can put names to the others. Not this guy. Not so far anyway. He wasnt a guest. He didnt park in the garage, eat in the restaurant, or drink in the bar.
My God! Monstrous! If that isnt criminal behavior, I dont know what is.
Derek gave him a look, then pulled a photograph from the folder hed carried over from his desk and laid it on the table. Creighton leaned forward and looked at it, then laughed.
This is the big crime-solving breakthrough? Jesus. Our tax dollars at work. Still chuckling, he said, The only thing obvious is that it isnt a picture of me. I wouldnt be caught dead in that shirt.
No recognition?
He took another look at the photo. You know, now that you mention it, he looks a little like the Elephant Man. Which is one reason I avoid being photographed. I hate being at the mercy of the camera as well as the photographer.
Derek returned the picture to the folder, made a point of lining up the edges of it with the other contents, then got up and returned the folder to his desk. As he turned back to Creighton, he announced what hed decided the moment he laid eyes on the young man. Im not going to take you on as a client, Mr. Wheeler.
That elicited a reaction. Excuse me?
Im not going to
I heard you, Creighton said testily. Why not?
Because youre a despicable smart-ass.
That was the basic, underlying reason. During the last several minutes, Derek had decided that he could never provide Creighton Wheeler with an impartial defense because he absolutely could not stand the cocky bastard. He had represented some of the slimiest miscreants in Georgia, and hed never let a disagreeable personality be the determining factor for saying no. But his aversion to this man was so intense, Derek could not be his advocate on any level.
His reasons for declining to represent Creighton Wheeler had nothing to do with Julie Rutledge, really. Even if hed never met her, his decision would have been the same.
Realizing he couldnt be that blunt with the young millionaire, he smiled at him as he returned to his chair and sat down. Im turning you down primarily because you dont need me, and I wont take your money, or your fathers, for doing nothing. Sore losers have ac cused me of being unscrupulous. Ill own up to pulling some clever courtroom tricks. But Ive never fleeced a client.
You had two excellent motives for wanting Paul Wheeler dead. Your relationship with him was antagonistic, and youre heir to his estate. The police would have pounced on either one of those. Combined, its a pretty incriminating package.
But, they cant get beyond the fact that you lacked opportunity. You have an alibi, substantiated by several people. You couldnt have been in that hotel at the time of the shooting. Of course you could have hired someone to kill him
It wouldnt have been that guy, Creighton said with derision, gesturing to the photographs. What a moron.
Exactly, Derek said. You could afford the best hit man in the world. Someone with a much more subtle technique. He paused for a moment, then continued. Paul Wheeler was worth a fortune. He was only fifty-two and in good health, so he might have lived another thirty or forty years. For the sake of argument, lets say you got impatient to inherit his millions. Would you actually risk the promise of his legacy, as well as the sizable trust fund you have now, by committing murder and losing everything?
That would be completely irrational.
It would, yes.
Creighton plucked at the crease of his linen trousers. I think the detectives are smart enough to see that. But what about Julies badmouthing?
They havent credited it. I surmise that Sanford and Kimball have taken her insinuations against you for what they are. Sour grapes. Reprisal. Jealousy. Whatever. They havent acted on them, so we can assume, safely I believe, that theyve dismissed them.
Creighton grinned. I like the way you think, Mr. Mitchell. I want you as my lawyer.
Derek shook his head. Sorry.
My father has already paid you a retainer.
Which hell get back. Ill bill him for yesterdays meeting and for today, but the retainer check will be returned.
Do you want to up your fee?
Its not a matter of money.
Everything is a matter of money.
Not this.
Since when can you fire a client?
Since now.
Creighton held his stare for several moments, then again flashed the cocky grin that set Dereks teeth on edge. Whats the real problem here?
Derek stood up, indicating the conclusion of the meeting. The problem is that your father wanted me to be at your beck and call. I dont work that way. Ive checked my caseload and trial schedule, and done some soul-searching.
A lawyer with a soul?
Derek gave him a token smile. My soul, conscience, whatever you want to call it, wont let me take on a new client at the expense of those Im already committed to. Ive got my hands full preparing for Jason Connors trial.
The kid who slaughtered his parents?
Derek didnt acknowledge that. Hes only sixteen, and his life is at stake. In order to accommodate you, Id have to use some of the time allocated to his case. Id be stretched very thin, and that wouldnt be fair to anyone. Bottom line, I wont do it.
Father wont like it. And neither do I.
Derek went to the door and pulled it open. I can refer you to someone equally good.
There is no one equally good. Why do you think we came to you?
Im flattered by the confidence you placed in me. Im sorry I cant help you.
Creighton stared at him for a count of ten, then walked through the door with all the hauteur of the boy who was taking his ball and going home because he hadnt been chosen captain.
He walked past Marlenes desk without so much as a nod and continued down the hallway to the reception area, where a wall of glass separated the law office from the corridor. When he reached it, he put his back to the door, and holding Dereks stare down the length of the hall, pushed it open. He backed out and strode off in the direction of the elevator.
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