Leo waited outside the courtroom and wished for a cigar. He hated being down here. People still recognized him from before. Other lawyers. Within his profession, and to some degree outside it, he was infamous. And down here, around the criminal courts, his presence was apt to draw stares. He might as well have a placard around his neck- I’m the man who set a child killer free. And as much as he hated being down here, this was where he wanted to be. This was where he knew he could soar. If he could somehow parlay this Lee thing into a second chance, he wasn’t going to waste it. He knew it would be his only chance. And he knew there was something there. Something wrong. And if he could convince Paula, and Paula could convince Bob…
A man reading from a legal pad slowed down as he passed by Leo and looked him over.
“Got a problem, buddy?”
The man looked away and continued on his way across the lobby. Leo stared after the man and thought back to the kinder, gentler days when sand-filled ashtrays dotted this lobby. A cigar would be nice right about now.
The doors of the courtroom swung open and a crowd of people exited the courtroom and filled up the lobby. Among them, he spotted Paula heading briskly toward the elevators.
“Paula!”
Leo ran to catch up with her and followed a few steps behind her.
“Leo! Find anything on the grassy knoll?”
“Well, nothing to speak of.”
“Speak of it.”
“Well, like you said, the kid did the same thing five years ago. I call him a kid, but have you seen him? He’s a bruiser. Anyway, they put him away after he cracks Mom’s head open the first time. Then a year later he kills another mentally retarded man in the hospital arguing over socks. Called it an accident. So they put him in this Hendrix Institute, private, high dollar, and strictly for the hard-core types. Are you with me?”
Paula quickened the pace a little to try to get to an open elevator before it closed. “Keep going.”
“And so here we are now and the husband decides it’s time for a little home visit about the same time he decides to go away with Princess Di for a romantic weekend getaway.” He followed Paula onto the crowded elevator.
“They let the kid out? With a history like that?”
“Like I said. Private. High dollar. Albert has never been charged with a crime.”
“And Princess Di?”
“She’s some kind of nurse at the institute. Very discreet, huh? So Mom’s at home with the Incredible Hulk and Daddy’s in the mountains getting his candle waxed, and then uh-oh, the kid cracks Mom in the head again. Only this time she’s dead.”
“And what you’re trying to say is?”
Leo waited until the elevator stopped. They got off and headed for Paula’s office.
“I don’t think Junior iced Mom.”
“Because..
“Number one, the murderer’s left-handed, the kid’s right. Number two, we got blood splatters on the drapes, on the walls, the place looks like Helter Skelter and there’s not a drop on the kid.”
“You know, I saw the pictures. It wasn’t that bad.”
“But still.”
Paula opened her office with a key. She tossed the keys on top of the coffeemaker, plopped into her chair, kicked off her shoes, and propped her legs on the desk.
“The father probably cleaned the kid up before you got there. He might have found the sight of his child covered with his wife’s blood somewhat disturbing. I think you’re seeing something because you want to see something.”
“I talked to the husband. He smells guilty.”
“Okay. He smells guilty. I’m going to need a little more than that. A jury will, too. The kid’s fingerprints are still all over the ashtray, right? The ashtray with half of Rachel Lee’s scalp stuck in the grooves.”
“‘Hey Junior, hold this ashtray for Daddy.’ The kid is retarded, don’t forget. It wouldn’t be terribly difficult to frame him.”
“Think about it, Leo. There’s no motive. No why. Why? That’s what I’m not seeing. If you could give me a why, I might be able to buy into some of this other stuff. He’s not even in line for the inheritance. The wife left it all to the son. The insurance on her wouldn’t even move the decimal point in this guy’s checkbook.”
Paula opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and an ashtray. Leo leaned across the desk, lighted her cigarette, then fired up his cigar.
“Like old times, huh, Paula?”
“Sure. I remember.”
“Working late, excited about a case, smoking like maniacs. We used to work good together.”
“You taught me a lot. I haven’t forgotten. You taught me to look out for myself. And that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Look, I want to see something good happen for you. I do. But I don’t think this is the one. It all comes back to the why. You can’t convince a jury without the why. ‘He did it, oh yes, he definitely did it. Why? Well, I’m not sure why, but-?’”
“Okay, I get the point. All right, let’s say, what if-now I’m not saying anything, but what if she was having an affair?”
“The woman hadn’t set foot out of her house in three years.”
“The postman always rings twice.”
“He’d have to ring more than that before this psycho would answer the door.”
Paula pulled a thick folder from a drawer and tossed it across the desk to Leo.
“Have you read her file? Depression, anxiety, agoraphobia. Taking Valium and Prozac by the handful.”
Leo picked up the file. The significance of her giving it to him was not lost on him. She’s giving it to me, he thought. The case. This is my case. She’s not just letting me stick my nose in to get a little whiff of what it used to be like, she’s giving it to me.
“Take it home, read it over. You’ll see you’re just jumping at shadows. The woman makes Boo Radley look like an extrovert.”
Boo Radley. Who had they used to call Boo Radley? It was right there. It was… the Conners woman.
“Crazier than Carolyn Conners?”
“Carolyn Conners?”
“Like you forgot.”
Neither of them had mentioned the Guaraldi case in front of the other since Leo had been back with the DA’s office. But there it was. As he had hoped, Paula acted nonchalant, and he knew everything would be okay.
“Oh. Carolyn Conners. I’d have to say that this woman could have probably given Carolyn Conners a run for her money. Psychotically speaking, that is.”
“Not a very nice way to speak of the dead, but maybe you have something.”
“What?”
“Psycho. I’m not saying anything, but maybe she was so crazy, maybe he knew she’d never give him a divorce. Maybe he was afraid of her.”
“ I’d be scared of her. Tell me more.”
“Maybe he knew she’d never let him leave. Maybe there was only one way for him to get his life back.”
“Kill her.”
“I’m not saying anything.”
“This is good. This I can see. This is motive. But we can’t convict someone because they’re left-handed or because they smell guilty. We’ll need evidence. Hard evidence. A fingerprint. Bloodstains. Skin traces under the nails.”
“How about a witness?”
“A witness would be good. Have you got one?”
Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Paula cut him off.
“I know. You’re not saying anything.”