Witness for the Defense (26 page)

Without looking at Bragg, McBean answered, “No reason for one.”

“But you are disputing what the mother said to Mr. Dobbs?”

McBean hesitated as he watched Bragg walk to the window overlooking the entrance to the courthouse. Reporters had gathered on the steps, wondering why the trial hadn’t resumed. “I sure am,” he finally said.

“Mr. Dobbs?” Bragg said, with his back to us. “Why are you so sure that candy wrapper wasn’t inside the car when it was searched? Or is that just one of your defense ploys?”

“It’s no ploy.” I went on to explain. “I arrived at the Harris farm less than an hour before Reineer was arrested. I’m a big fan of classic cars. When I saw one parked there, I had to look inside. And I agree,” I said and nodded to McBean, “it was a mess. But for the life of me, I never did see anything on the front seat.”

“So big deal,” McBean scoffed. “At the time you weren’t looking for anything in particular.”

“Whatever,” I said, feigning a lack of interest in anything McBean had to say.

“If you’re so damn sure,” McBean added, “why aren’t you his witness rather than the scumbag’s attorney?”

Considering the source, I let the “scumbag” remark pass. “Because who would believe someone who is not only a friend of the family that Reineer worked for, but is also, himself, represented by his employer’s daughter? Plus,” I said, looking at Bragg’s back, “I’m sure you’d manage to get into evidence the fact that charges are pending against me in San Francisco. My credibility rating would be zero.”

McBean bobbed his head. “And that’s exactly why we shouldn’t believe you”

“I couldn’t care less what you believe. I was just answering your question.”

McBean pointed a finger directly in my face. “That wrapper was there and you know it.”

“All right, all right.” Priest looked at Bragg, who was still studying the crowd below. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” the D.A. said, with a hint of enthusiasm. “The way I see it, Mr. Dobbs has a cashier who will say the boy was wearing gloves.”

“But she doesn’t know whether or not he took them off when he left the store,” McBean interrupted.

Bragg held his hand up for the lieutenant to be quiet. “Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, that Mary Barton and possibly her son are unshakable about what they say you did with that candy wrapper. If we combine that testimony with the fact that the only item found inside the car with the boy’s fingerprints on it is an identical wrapper, well,” he said, shaking his head, “it appears as if we’d have a real dogfight on our hands.”

McBean stomped up to the D.A. “What are you saying?”

“Instead of arguing about a continuance, maybe we should be discussing settlement.”

“No way!” McBean roared. He grabbed the D.A.’s shoulders, spinning him around. “You know I’m within an eyelash of proving Reineer is also responsible for the disappearance of Gary Cosgrove,” he said.

The D.A. scowled and shoved McBean’s hand away. “So what if you have a couple of kids who saw the Cosgrove boy being driven off in a red Blazer? So what if Reineer has access to a similar car?” Bragg briskly shook his head. “We need a heck of a lot more than that.”

“Give me time,” McBean demanded. “I’ll come up with more.”

“You don’t understand,” Bragg said. “We’re a heck of a long way from proving Reineer was the one who was driving that Blazer or, for that matter, that a Blazer was even used. We don’t even know if any harm came to the child. There is nothing indicating foul play. We don’t have a body. What,” he said, throwing his hands in the air, “what the hell are you thinking?”

I had the feeling Bragg wasn’t just telling McBean; he was trying to talk himself into whatever he was considering.

“We’re out of time,” Bragg added and walked back to stare out the window again. “If you ever do get enough, we’ll file the appropriate charges. But as far as this trial is concerned, you can forget it.”

“For the record,” McBean fired back, “I don’t agree with one damn thing you’re saying.”

“You don’t have to.” Bragg turned to me. “See if your client will accept an assault, with a year in county and three years’ probation.”

Priest smiled. She had to be as surprised as I was by Bragg’s sudden change of heart. For the first time since she’d been assigned the case, there was a chance of it settling.

“That’s a damn joke!” McBean cried. “You can’t be seriously considering—”

“Look,” Bragg said, with his nose nearly touching the cop’s, “you’ve blown smoke up my rear end for the last time.”

McBean’s eyes darted to Priest’s, then to mine and back to Bragg. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Because of what you did with that candy wrapper,” Bragg said, shaking his head, “we no longer have a sure thing.”

“Nothing has changed other than a ten-year-old boy and his mother are mistaken about what they think they saw. The jury will believe me.”

“With your prior history, Dobbs would have you on your knees begging for mercy in ten seconds.”

“What prior history?”

The D.A.’s voice was scathing. “You’re a crooked cop, Bill. You were in San Francisco and you are now.”

“Hey, I don’t have to take this shit from someone who’d be crushing grapes if it wasn’t for his old man’s money.”

Bragg just looked at him.

McBean must have realized that politicians like Bragg have to be thick-skinned. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with a personal attack. He placed a hand on Bragg’s shoulder as though they were old buddies. “We’re both on the same team, aren’t we, J. J.? We can still win this thing. I’m sure of it.”

Bragg shrugged off McBean’s hand, and stepped back to the window. “There’s one big problem that you’re overlooking.” Bragg pointed out the window. “Once the Bartons take the stand, those sharks will investigate you with a fine-tooth comb. Every complaint or accusation that’s been made against you since you graduated from the academy will be front page news. This jury isn’t sequestered, and you know what that means,” Bragg continued. “Even if your background was never brought up in court, the jury would find out.”

“But they’re not supposed to read the papers or listen to the news,” McBean said, but his heart was no longer in it.

“You’re living in a dream world.” Bragg sneered at the lieutenant’s fake naïveté. “The jury will have a hell of a lot more than just a defense attorney’s unsupported allegations.”

Frustrated, McBean let his hands fall to his sides.

“Agreed,” Bragg said to me. “One year in county with a three years’ informal tail.”

I rose to my feet. “It’s not my decision, but I’ll relay it to Reineer and let you know.”

On my way out the door, Bragg called after me. “Make sure you inform the guilty scumbag he better jump on it or I just might change my mind.”

I didn’t let the scumbag remark pass this time. I came to an immediate halt. “Guilty scumbag? A second ago you were acting like you thought he was framed.”

Bragg wasn’t conceding a thing. “Come on, Dobbs, I’m doing what I think is right. Everyone jumped the gun on this one. There should have been a more extensive investigation.” He frowned at McBean, who was slumped in the D.A.’s chair with his head hanging. “One of my primary obligations as head district attorney is to make sure justice is served. Just because I question the police department’s tactics doesn’t mean I don’t think your client isn’t as guilty as sin.”

“You know what, Bragg?” I shouted. “You’re not interested in justice. You don’t even have an inkling what justice is. All you’re interested in is what’s good for you. It’s them, isn’t it?” I said, pointing to the media below. “You’re afraid of what a loss will do to your political career.”

“Take that offer to your client, Mr. Dobbs,” Priest interrupted, fearing any chance at settlement was quickly disappearing.

But I knew something the judge didn’t. Bragg would never withdraw it. He was too afraid of losing.

I couldn’t resist a parting shot. “That was a hell of a nice show you just put on, Bragg. But I think you believed from the beginning that the candy was planted and you filed charges anyway. Now it’s damage-control time, and you’re going to set McBean up as the scapegoat.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” Bragg said nastily.

I looked at McBean, who had been listening carefully to what was being said. “You better start praying, Lieutenant. Because if Reineer does turn down this deal, get ready for a crucifixion. And I don’t mean Bragg’s. What he just said to you in here is nothing compared to what he’ll say about you when he loses. He’s not going to let you or anyone else ruin his trip to the governor’s mansion.”

Beads of sweat oozed from my forehead. It was hot. The nape of my neck was soaked. The heater must have been broken—locked on full blast. Or maybe it was just me. I’d had a severe case of nerves ever since I’d walked out of Priest’s chambers. My internal thermostat was all out of whack.

Bragg’s offer wasn’t what was bothering me. It was much more than that. I wanted the trial to end. Even though I was convinced Jared was innocent, I wasn’t so sure about Avery. Where was he? Why had he disappeared right after Danny pointed at him? Was pedophilia what had caused him to resign from the bench?

If Jared didn’t take the deal, I was afraid McBean would talk Bragg into trying to connect Jared to Gary Cosgrove’s disappearance. And if that should ever happen, I’d have to fully develop the possibility that Avery could have done it. That was the real reason I felt as if I’d been sitting in a sauna all morning.

Jared flipped the report of my interview with Mary Barton across the table. “You go back in there and tell Bragg to quit wasting my time. This trial is almost over, and the sooner that happens, the sooner I’ll be out of here.”

“Think about it,” I said. “With good behavior and work time, you’ll be out of here in three or four months.”

Jared was not impressed. “When I’m found innocent, I’ll be out in a couple hours.”

“But you’re rolling the dice. If you’re found guilty of assault and kidnapping, you’re looking at eight years to life.”

“So what,” he muttered. “A few more months in here will be as good as the death penalty to me, anyway.”

I had no idea what he meant. “Could you explain that?”

His eyes cleared, and he looked as though he’d almost made a mistake. “It’s just that I don’t want to spend any more time in here than I have to,” he said. “And as long as the kid’s mom sticks to her story, I’m sure the jury won’t let that happen.”

“Then you have a lot more faith in them than I do.”

“Hey,” he said, smiling, “faith’s all I’ve got.”

I wanted to push harder, but his confident attitude strengthened my belief in his innocence.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You think I’m guilty, don’t you?”

I sighed in exasperation. “Why is it that every time I present an offer to a client and explain to them the risks of not accepting it, they think it’s because I don’t believe them?”

“I don’t know about the others, but I can’t believe you feel there is any risk now that we have the so-called victim’s mother on our side.”

I had to rein in his optimism. “She’s not on our side. And as far as the jury is concerned, she is the victim’s mother, whether you did it or not. And the jury will want to blame someone. In emotional cases such as this, half the time they’ll decide guilt or innocence based on emotions only. Very often reason gets tossed out the window.”

Jared didn’t want to hear this, and he scowled. “It’s not like the kid was brutally raped or something.”

“He doesn’t have to be. The jury wants to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else. Call it conscience or whatever you want, but I tell you they don’t want to live with the possibility they let someone who may do it again go free.”

Jared grinned like I wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. I was aware he was a bit off center—but he wasn’t stupid. He was as intelligent a client as I’d ever represented. So much so that I wanted to get his opinion about what was bothering me.

“Tell me, Jared, do you think Avery could have had something to do with the attack?”

Reineer lurched forward in surprise. “Give me a break,” he said. “You’re not thinking about that damn red Blazer and that kid in Boonville again.”

I didn’t respond.

“Why would you even intimate something like that? You have all the proof anyone would ever need that McBean planted that damn wrapper and now you want to pin it on a friend.”

The two of them were closer than I’d thought. I stood to leave, regretting I’d even brought it up. “So you want me to tell Bragg to stick it in his ear?”

Jared’s lip curled. “Or anywhere else it fits.”

I knocked on the steel door.

“I hear there’s a kid in here who’s accusing you of perjury,” Jared said as I waited to be escorted out.

“His name is Bobby Miles.”

“It’s pretty rough on a young kid like that in here. But since he’s snitching you off, I’ll bet that doesn’t bother you much.”

“As a matter of fact, it does,” I said as the cell door opened. “Keep an eye on him for me, will you? Someone is out to get him, and I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“As good as taken care of,” I heard him say before the door slammed shut.

Chapter 28

When I informed Priest that Jared wouldn’t accept the offer, Bragg stomped out of the judge’s chambers without saying a word. He’d thought for sure Jared wouldn’t refuse. My reading was that Bragg felt the same as I did; with what Mary Barton and possibly Danny had to say, a once sure victory for the prosecution was now, at best, a coin flip.

The trial was to resume only long enough for my opening statement. The proceedings would then be adjourned until Monday morning, when I’d call my first witness. As we waited for the jury to settle in, I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to say. My opening would be brief. I’d summarize the testimony of my only witnesses.

“You may begin, Mr. Dobbs,” Priest said.

I walked to within a few feet of the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will be giving you a brief overview of what the defense intends to establish, but before I do, you must understand that the defense doesn’t have to produce any evidence. We can rely totally on the evidence already presented to you by the prosecution. Why is that? you might ask yourselves.”