Gone, but not forgotten

Chapter Sixteen.

The sun was shining, but the temperature was a little below freezing.

Betsy hung up her overcoat. Her cheeks hurt from the cold. She rubbed her hands together and asked Ann to bring her a cup of coffee. By the time Ann set a steaming mug on her coaster, Betsy was dialing Washington, D.C.

"Senator Colby's office."

"I'd like to speak to Wayne Turner, please."

"I'll connect you to his secretary." Betsy picked up the mug. Her hand was trembling.

She wanted to sound confident, but she was scared to death.

"Can I help you?" a pleasant female voice asked.

"My name is Betsy Tannenbaum. I'm an attorney in Portland, Oregon. I'd like to speak to Mr. Turner."

"Mr. Turner is very busy with the confirmation hearings. If you leave me your number, he'll call you when be gets the chance."

Betsy knew Turner would never return her call.

There was only one way to force him to get on the phone.

Now Betsy was convinced she knew what had happened in Hunter's Point and she would have to gamble she was right.

"This can't wait. Let Mr. Turner know that Peter Lake's attorney is on the phone." Then Betsy told the secretary to tell Turner something else.

The secretary made her repeat the message. "If Mr. Turner won't talk to me, tell him I'm sure the press will."

Turner's secretary put Betsy on hold. Betsy closed her eyes and tried a meditation technique she had learned in a Y.W.C.A. yoga class. It didn't work, and she jumped when Turner came on the line.

"Who is this?" he barked.

"I told your secretary, Mr. Turner. My name is Betsy Tannenbaum and I'm Martin Darius's attorney. You knew him as Peter Lake when he lived in Hunter's Point. I want to talk to Senator Colby immediately."

"The senator is extremely busy with the confirmation hearings, Ms.

Tannenbaum. Can't this wait until they're over?"

"I'm not going to wait until the senator is safely on the Court, Mr.

Turner. if he won't speak to me, I'll be forced to go to the press."

"Damn it, if you spread any irresponsible "Calm down, Mr. Turner. If you thought about this at all, you'd know it would hurt my client to go to the papers. I'll only do it as a last resort. But I won't be put off."

"if YOU know about Lake, if you know about the senator, why are you doing this?" Turner pleaded.

Betsy paused. Turner had asked a good question.

Why was she keeping what she knew to herself? Why hadn't she confided in Reggie Stewart? Why was she willing to fly across the country for the answer to her questions?

"This is for me, Mr. Turner. I have to know what kind of man I'm representing. I have to know the truth. I must meet with Senator Colby.

I can fly to Washington tomorrow."

Turner was silent for a few seconds. Betsy looked out the window. In the office across the street, two men in shirtsleeves were discussing a blueprint. On the floor above them, a group of secretaries were working away on word processors. Toward the top of the office building, Betsy could see the sky reflected in the glass wall, Greentinted clouds scudded across a green-tinted sky.

"I'll talk to Senator Colby and call you back," Turner said.

"I'm not a threat, Mr. Turner. I'm not out to wreck the senator's appointment. Tell him that."

Turner hung up and Betsy exhaled. She was not used to threatening United States senators or dealing with cases that could destroy the reputations of prominent public figures. Then she thought about the Hammermill and Peterson cases. Twice she had shouldered the burden of saving a human life. There was no greater responsibility than that. Colby was just a man, even if he was a United States senator, and he might be the reason Martin Darius was free to murder three innocent women in Portland.

"Nora Sloane is on one," Ann said over the intercom.

Betsy's divorce client was supposed to meet her at the courthouse at eight forty-five and it was eight-ten.

Betsy wanted to concentrate on the issues in the divorce, but she decided she could spare Sloane a minute.

"Sorry to bother you," Sloane said apologetically.

"Remember I talked to you about interviewing your mother and Kathy" Do you suppose I could do that this weekend?"

"I might be out of town. My mom will probably watch Kathy, so you could talk to them together. Mom will get a kick out of being interviewed.

I'll talk to her and get back to you. What's your number?"

"Why don't I call you? I'm going to be in and out."

"Okay. I've got court in half an hour. I should be done by noon. Call me this afternoon."

Betsy checked her watch. She had twenty minutes to prepare for court and no more time to spend thinking about Martin Darius.

Reggie Stewart found Ben Singer, the attorney who handled Samantha Reardon's divorce, by going through the court records. Singer had not heard from Reardon in years, but he did have an address near the campus.

Most of the houses around the University were older, single-family dwellings surrounded by well-kept lawns and shaded by oak and elm trees, but there was a pocket of apartments and boardinghouses that catered to students located several blocks behind the campus near the freeway.

Stewart turned into a parking lot that ran the length of a dull-gray garden apartment complex. It had snowed the night before. Stewart stepped over a drift onto the shoveled sidewalk in front of the manager's office. A woman in her early forties dressed in heavy slacks and a green wool sweater answered the door. She was holding a cigarette.

Her face was flushed. There were curlers in her strawberry-red hair.

"My name is Reggie Stewart. I'm looking for the apartment manager.

"We're full," the woman answered brusquely.

Stewart handed the woman his card. She stuck her cigarette in her mouth and examined it.

"Are you the manager?" Stewart asked. The woman nodded.

"I'm trying to find Samantha Reardon. This was the last address I had for her."

"What do you want with her?" the woman asked suspiciously.

"She may have information that could clear a client who used to live in Hunter's Point."

"Then You're out of luck. She's not here."

"Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Beats me. She's been gone since the summer." The manager looked at the card again. "The other investigator was from Portland too. I remember, because you two are the only people I ever met from Oregon."

"Was this guy big with a broken nose?"

"Right. You know him?"

"Not personally. When did he show up?"

"It was hot. That's all I remember. Reardon left the next day. Paid a month's rent in advance. She said she didn't know how long she'd be gone. Then, about a week later, she came back and moved out."

"Did she store anything with you?"

"Nah. The apartment's furnished and she hardly had anything of her own."

The manager shook her head. "I was up there once to fix a leak in the sink. Not a picture on the wall, not one nic-nac on a table.

The place looked just like it did when she moved in. Spooky."

"You ever talk to her?"

"Oh, sure. I'd see her from time to time. But it was mostly 'good morning' or 'how's it going' on my part and not much from her. She kept to herself"

"Did she have a job?"

"Yeah. She worked somewhere. I think she was a secretary or receptionist. Something like that. Might have been for a doctor. Yeah, a doctor, and she was a bookkeeper. That was it. She looked like a bookkeeper, too.

Real mousy. She didn't take care of herself. She had a nice figure if you looked hard. all, athletic. But she always dressed like an old maid. it looked to me like she was trying to scare men off, if you know what I mean."

"You wouldn't happen to have a picture of her?"

"Where would I get a picture? Like I said, I don't even think she had any pictures in her place. Weird. Everyone has pictures, knickknacks, things to remind you of the good times."

"Some people don't want to think about the past," Stewart said.

The manager took a drag on her cigarette and nodded in agreement. "She like that? Bad memories?"

"The worst," Stewart said. "The very worst."

"Let me help you with the dishes," Rita said. They had left them -after dinner, so they could watch one of Kathy's favorite television shows with her, before Betsy put her to bed.

"Before I forget," Betsy said as she piled up the bread plates, "a woman named Nora Sloane may call you.

I gave her your number. She's the one who's writing the article for Pacific West."

"oh?"

"She wants to interview you and Kathy for background."

"Interview me?" Rita preened.

"Yeah, Mom. It's your chance at immortality."

"You're my immortality, honey, but I'm available if she calls," Rita said. "Who better to give her the inside story than your mother?"

"That's what I'm -afraid of."

Betsy rinsed the plates and cups and Rita put them in the dishwasher.

"Do you have some time before you go home? I want to ask you about something."

"Sure.

"You want coffee or tea?"

"Coffee will be fine."

Betsy poured two cups and they carried them into the living room.

"It's the Darius case," Betsy said. "I don't know what to do. I keep on thinking about those women, what they went through. What if he killed them, Mom?"

"Aren't you -always telling me that your client's guilt or innocence doesn't matter? You're his lawyer."

"I know. And that is what I -always say. And I believe it. Plus I'm going to need the money I'm making on the case, if Rick and I… if we divorce. And the prestige.

Even if I lose, I'll still be known as Martin Darius's attorney. This case is putting me in the major leagues. If I dropped out, I'd get a reputation as someone who couldn't handle the pressure of a big case."

"But you're worried about getting him off?"

"That's it, Mom. I know I can get him off. Page doesn't have the goods. judge Norwood told him as much at the bail hearing. But I know things Page doesn't and I…"

Betsy shook her head. She was visibly shaken.

"Someone is going to represent Martin Darius," Rita said calmly. "If you don't do it, another lawyer will. I listen to what you say about giving everyone, even killers and drug pushers, a fair trial. It's hard for me to accept. A man who would do that to a woman. To anyone. You want to spit on them. But you aren't defending that person.

Isn't that what you tell me? You're serving a good system.

"That's the theory, but what if you feel sick inside?

What if you can't sleep because you know you're going to free someone who… Mom, he did this same thing in Hunter's Point. I'm certain of it. And, if I get him off, who's next? I keep thinking about what those women went through. Alone, helpless, stripped of their dignity."

Rita reached across the space between them and took her daughter's hand.

"I'm so proud of what you've done with your life.

When I was a girl I never thought about being a lawyer.

That's an important job. You're important. You do important things.

Things other people don't have the courage to do. But there's a price.

Do you think the President sleeps well? And judges? Generals? So, you're finding out about the bad side of responsibility. With those battered women, it was easy. You were on God's side. Now, God is against you. But you have to do your job even if you suffer. You have to stick with it and not take the easy way out."

Suddenly Betsy was crying. Rita moved over and threw her arms around her daughter.

"I'm a mess, Mom. I loved Rick so much. I gave him everything and he walked out on me. If he was here to help me… I can't do it alone."

"Yes, you can. You're strong. No one could do what you've done without being strong."

"Why don't I see it that way? I feel empty, used up."

"it's hard to see yourself the way others see you. You know you're not perfect, so you emphasize your weaknesses. But you've got plenty of strengths, believe me."

Rita paused. She looked distant for a moment, then she looked at Betsy.

"I'm going to tell you something no other living soul knows. The night your father passed away, I almost took my own life."

"mom!"

"I sat in our bedroom, after you were asleep, and I took out pills from our bathroom cabinet. I must have looked at those pills for an hour, but I couldn't do it. You wouldn't let me. The thought of you. How I would miss seeing you grow up. How I would never know what you did with your life. Not taking those pills was the smartest thing I ever did, because I got to see you the way you are now. And I am so proud of you."

"What if I'm not proud of myself? What if I'm only in this for the money or the reputation? What if I'm helping a man who is truly evil to escape punishment, so he can be free to cause unbearable pain and suffering to other innocent people?"

"I don't know what to say to you," Rita answered. "I don't know -all the facts, so I can't put myself in your place. But I trust you and I know you'll do the right thing."

Betsy wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry I laid this on you, but you're the only one I can let my hair down with now that Rick's walked out."

"I'm glad to know I'm good for something." Rita smiled back. Betsy hugged her. It had been good to cry, it had been good to talk out what she had been holding inside, but Betsy didn't feel she was any closer to an answer.