The Underground Man

28

Tracy Garvin was pissed. She sat in Steve Winslow’s overstuffed clients’ chair, folded her glasses, tapped them into her other hand, unfolded them, and folded them up again, a sure sign that she was really steamed.

Steve Winslow took no notice. He had just finished giving Tracy a complete rundown of the facts of the case as he knew them. Now, utterly exhausted, he was sitting tipped back in his desk chair, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his eyes staring blankly at some small imperfection in the ceiling. He closed his eyes, raised his arms and rubbed his head as if to clear it.

“All right,” he said. “Ask me questions.”

This was no idle exercise on Steve’s part. Tracy Garvin was sharp and he valued her input. In his previous case, she’d asked the key question, the one that turned the whole thing around. In this case, frankly, Steve didn’t know what the hell to do. So he was eager to hear what Tracy had to say.

“All right,” she said. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

That was not the question he’d been looking for. Steve Winslow’s eyes snapped open. He tipped his chair down, sat up to find Tracy Garvin glaring at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

Tracy Garvin took a breath. “I’m sorry, but … well, I don’t get it at all.”

“Get what?”

“You. This case. Well … dammit, you.”

“What about me?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I get the impression you’re displeased.”

“Dammit, don’t humor me. I’m not in the mood.”

“Fine. I won’t humor you. Just tell me what’s the matter, and then let’s see what we can do about it.”

“What’s the matter? The matter is you. I thought I knew you. What you stood for. Now this case comes along, and I don’t know you at all.”

“Specifics.”

“What?”

“Specifics. I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you want me to respond to this, you’re gonna have to recite chapter and verse.”

Tracy took a breath. “Look. The Marilyn Harding thing. We worked together on that and it was great. You did things. You took risks. You didn’t like your clients much, but you fought like hell for ‘em, you went out on a limb for ‘em, and when you did-well, you were still on the side of the angels. I mean, what you were doing was somehow right.

“But this case.” Tracy shook her head. “Here you are defending a crack dealer who’s probably guilty as hell.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Tracy cut him off. “No, no, I know, I shouldn’t say that. He’s innocent until proven guilty, I just spoke heresy, I retract it. Let’s not go off on a tangent. I don’t want to hear you make a speech.”

Tracy held up her hand. “Here’s the thing. You’re defending this kid and you’re taking risks and doing unorthodox things again. But you’re not on the side of the angels anymore. You want chapter and verse, I’ll give you chapter and verse. This woman in California-this Julie Creston-you’re gonna subpoena her and drag her into court. Well then, you’re gonna get her name in the papers and probably fuck up her career. And what’s worse, you screw up her relationship with her boyfriend. And you know and I know she hasn’t got a goddam thing to do with this. She’s an innocent bystander. If anything, she’s a victim. She’s the one who got dumped on, chased out of New York. Now you wanna drag her back to dump on her some more. Dammit, it just isn’t right.”

Tracy stopped, pushed her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry if that pisses you off. But that’s how I feel.”

Steve sighed. “I understand. I suppose I’d like to feel the same way. But I can’t. I can’t allow myself the luxury. I’ve got a job to do. I may not like it, but it’s my job, so I gotta do it. If I didn’t do my job, I’m a lousy lawyer, I should quit practicing law.”

He held up his hand. “Now, I know that doesn’t mean anything to you. You’ve been talking from the heart, and I’m giving you cold lawyer bullshit. O.K. Stop for a minute. And if you don’t mind, let me take exception to what you’re saying.”

“Say anything you want. That’s why I brought it up.”

“I know. But you’re not gonna like what you’re gonna hear.”

“I figured that.”

“O.K. First off, you’re young.”

Tracy bristled.

“Scratch that,” Steve said. “Unfair, not relevant. First off, you’re a romantic.”

Tracy opened her mouth to protest again.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said. “That hurts you even worse. But it shouldn’t. Basically, I’m a romantic too. I just have to stifle it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m trying to explain something. It’s not particularly easy. Let me take a stab at it. When I say you’re a romantic, I mean you have a lot of ideas about good and bad, right or wrong. You read a lot of books. There’s heroes and villains. The good prosper, and the bad get their comeuppance.

“Well, I have no argument with that. That’s the way it ought to be. But real life isn’t a storybook, and when you start thinking of it as one, you’re doomed to disappointment.

“Now take this case. You see Julie Creston as the embodiment of good. The poor wronged woman. The underdog. Cruelly and heartlessly separated from the man she loves. In romantic terms, she would be loving and true, Jack Walsh would be a kindly old man, and the two of them would live happily ever after. You don’t really believe that, but that’s the image you can’t get out of your head, and it colors your thought.

“Now, what’s frustrating the hell out of you is the reality doesn’t live up to the fantasy. Because in real life, Jack Walsh was a cunning, vindictive lunatic. And Julie Creston gives every indication of being a cold, calculating gold digger who’s always been looking out for number one. She doesn’t give a hang about Jack Walsh, she couldn’t care less that he’s dead. Her one interest in him was always money, and since she sees no chance of getting any, she’d just as soon wash her hands of the whole affair so it doesn’t mess up her current gravy train.”

“That’s not fair,” Tracy said.

“I know it’s not fair. But it’s how I have to look at it. And your next argument is, I’m just doing it to help some crack dealer. Well, that’s true, and if he was charged with selling crack, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help him. But he’s charged with murder. And if he didn’t do it-”

“But he did,” Tracy said. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t be saying that, but, dammit, he did. Everything points to it. The gun. The witness. Everything. And what evidence do you have that he didn’t? Just his say so. The word of a crack addict. Someone you wouldn’t trust to tell you the time of day.”

“This is true.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“I’m his lawyer, and I can’t quit.”

“Why not?”

“All right, look. I didn’t have to take the case, but I did. I didn’t know he was a crack dealer then, but that’s neither here nor there. The fact is, I took it. And once I take a case, I can’t quit. It would be an open admission I thought my client was guilty. And it’s not my place to make that judgment. That’s up to a jury. Once I take a case, it’s my duty to present that case to a jury and let them decide.”

“Fine, but do you have to ruin some woman’s life to do it?”

“Hey. There’s no halfway. I either take a case or I don’t. Let me ask you something. Suppose my client was some nice, clean-cut kid that you thought was innocent-would you still be asking me to lay off?”

Tracy’s eyes faltered, but just for a moment. “Yeah, I probably would.”

“Why?”

“What do you expect to prove with this woman?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s why. Because you don’t know what you’re doing. You have no definite purpose in mind. It’s a shot in the dark, a gamble. If you come up with something, great. But if you don’t, you’re guilty of abuse of process and you just might get disbarred.”

“You’re telling me I shouldn’t risk that?”

“You know you shouldn’t.”

“Maybe. But I think if Jeremy Dawson were that clean-cut kid you thought was innocent, you just might think I should.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Dammit,” Tracy said. “What difference does it make? It’s what you call a moot point, Counselor. Never mind the what-if, let’s deal with the facts. The facts are Jeremy Dawson is a lying, teenage punk crack dealer.”

“Yes, but is he guilty? Answer me that. You may think so, but do you know it? Can you judge the case for me now? Can you tell me there’s no reason in the world for me to defend this kid, because you know for a fact that he’s guilty?”

“Of course not.”

“There you are. He’s my client and I’m gonna defend him. And what’s more, I’m gonna get him off.”

The phone rang. Tracy got up and answered it. “Steve Winslow’s office.” She handed the phone to Steve. “Mark Taylor.”

Steve took the phone. “Yeah, Mark, what you got?”

“More bad news, Steve.”

“Yeah, let’s have it.”

“No go on the subpoena.”

“How come?”

“Julie Creston’s gone.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. My man went out to serve her, just missed her. Remember she was packing to go? Well, she left on her vacation.”

“For how long?”

“You got me. My man pumped the landlady, she didn’t know.”

“Shit. Can you find out where she went?”

“I did, but it don’t help us a bit.”

“Why not?”

“Turns out she went to Rio.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. And last time I checked, Rio was outside the jurisdiction of the court.”

“No shit. All right, Mark, have your man bribe the landlady to tip us off when she gets back.”

“Has been done.”

“O.K. Good work.”

“Just routine. Then there’s the other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Jeremy Dawson’s alibi.”

“What about it?”

“I’ve been trying to come up with someone who saw him at the movie, Heathers. Well, I finally found one.”

“That’s great.”

“No, it isn’t. I got a kid that will swear absolutely he saw Jeremy Dawson there. He couldn’t miss the green mohawk. He was in back of him in the popcorn line.”

“So?”

“So, it wasn’t the night of the murder. It was the previous Saturday night.”

“Are you sure?”

“The kid is. His parents won’t let him go to the movies on school nights. Just on weekends.”

“Oh, shit. Do the cops know this?”

“Sure do. In fact, my leak at headquarters was how I got it.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. Just thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks, Mark. Keep me posted.”

Steve hung up the phone.

Tracy Garvin was looking at him with anxious eyes. “Well?” Steve managed a grin. “Well, I’m off the hook with you.”

“What?”

“Julie Creston. She left for Rio on vacation. They couldn’t serve the subpoena. That point has become moot.”

“No, dammit,” Tracy said. “The other thing after that. When you looked like your world had just collapsed.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “The cops got a witness will swear Jeremy Dawson was at the film Heathers the previous Saturday night.”

“Oh shit,” Tracy said. “How bad is it?”

“It’s the worst. Jeremy Dawson told the cops he was at that movie. It’s an admission against interest, and it’s admissible. Look what’s gonna happen now. Dirkson will put on all the circumstantial evidence showing motive, method and opportunity. Then he’ll call the cop to the stand and have him testify Jeremy Dawson gave him the alibi he went to the movies. Then he’ll call the kid to the stand and prove that Jeremy lied. Then Dirkson will smile at the jury and rest his case right there.”

“Oh Jesus,” Tracy said. “And what will happen then?”

“Then,” Steve said, “I won’t have a fucking prayer.”