The Underground Man

31

“So,” Taylor said. “Why is the time element so important?”

Mark Taylor, Tracy Garvin and Steve Winslow were catching lunch at a small diner near the courthouse. Steve, exhausted from the morning session, had ordered a round of coffee to start, and the waitress had just delivered it and taken their sandwich orders.

Steve took a sip of coffee, grimaced at the bitter taste, shook his head. “It isn’t,” he said.

Mark Taylor took a sip of coffee, made a face, dumped more sugar in. “Why is it none of these places ever wash the pot?” He took another sip, found it only slightly more to his liking. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, it’s not important?”

Steve shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The doctor says he died between ten and eleven. He’s probably right. But even if he’s wrong-say the guy died between nine and ten-what does it matter? Jeremy Dawson could have killed him between nine and ten just as well.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“No big deal.”

Mark Taylor took a sip of coffee, frowned, shook his head. “I don’t know what’s pissing me off more, you or this coffee. If the time element’s no big deal, why did you make such a big stink about it?”

“Because it’s there.”

“What?”

Steve sighed. “You tell him, Tracy.”

Tracy shrugged. “The way I see it, he couldn’t care less about the time element. He’s just trying to win the sympathy of the jury. Just like with the female transit cop.”

Steve grinned. “Oh, you caught that?”

Tracy gave him a look. “How could I miss it. It was shameless. You got six women and three Hispanics on the jury, so you take an Hispanic woman cop and make a speech about her intelligence and honesty.” Tracy shook her head. “I tell you, when I heard that I said, ‘Shit, he must really be in trouble now.’”

Steve nodded. “Well, you’re absolutely right. Dirkson’s got me by the balls. I’m in a situation where I have to use every trick I can.” Steve turned back to Mark Taylor. “So, no, Mark, the time element don’t mean shit. But tell me, did you like my cross-examination of the doctor?”

“I’ll say,” Taylor said. “It was right on. That’s why I figured it had to mean something.”

“Well, it doesn’t. But you liked it, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the jury liked it too. I knew they would. I mean, here’s an arrogant, pompous, condescending doctor, and the jury just loved to watch me rip his can off. We scored points for it.

“And that’s what it’s all about now. Dirkson has such a damn good case on the one hand, and such a horrifying one on the other. I mean, you should have seen those pictures. This is not just a murder. This is a gruesome murder. Dirkson’s drenching the jury in horror, and they’re lapping it up. The best I can do now is lighten the mood. It ain’t easy, and I gotta score points any way I can. That’s why I was so brutal with the doctor.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Taylor said. “So now what?”

Steve shrugged. “More of the same. And it’s only gonna get worse.”

“How come?” Tracy asked.

“Well, more than likely next up is the derelict who saw Jack Walsh and Jeremy Dawson together. He’s gonna make the identification, I’m gonna have to shake it. And it’s gonna be a bitch. The jury loved me for tearing into the doctor. They’ll hate me if I tear into this guy.”

“So what you gonna do?” Tracy asked.

“Anything I can. You got those pictures, Mark?”

Taylor tapped his briefcase. “Yeah. Right here.”

“What pictures?” Tracy asked.

“Head shots,” Taylor said. “Kids with green hair.”

“Oh, I didn’t see ‘em,” Tracy said. “Can I take a look?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Pass ‘em over, Mark. But keep ‘em covered,” he cautioned Tracy. “It’d be just our luck to have someone from Dirkson’s office walk by.”

Taylor opened the briefcase, took out a manila envelope, passed it over to Tracy.

Tracy pulled out the photos, leafed through them. They were eight-by-ten color glossies of teenagers with green mohawks. Tracy flipped through the pictures, stuck them back in the envelope, and looked up at Steve.

“Are these different kids, or are they all the same guy?”

Steve grinned. “You just made my day. Nice work, Mark.”

Tracy handed the envelope back to Mark Taylor and frowned. “Yeah, good, but I don’t get it. You may be able to confuse the hell out of the witness, but isn’t that just what you said you didn’t want to do? Isn’t that gonna piss the jury off?”

“Depends how it’s done,” Steve said. “I gotta tread lightly and try to reverse the field.”

Tracy frowned. “I don’t know what that means. Tell me something. Was one of those pictures Jeremy Dawson?”

Steve grinned again. “That’s the second best thing I’ve heard all day.”

Tracy frowned and shook her head. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. I mean, everything you’re doing-the pictures, the doctor-it’s not to prove a point. It’s to confuse the issue. It’s to try to throw up a smoke screen to keep the facts from getting out. Dammit, it’s the classic case you hear about. It’s the clever defense attorney using his legal education to help some criminal beat the rap.”

“I can’t think that way.”

“Why not?”

“I have a premise, a given, a bottom line. That bottom line is, Jeremy Dawson did not kill Jack Walsh. That’s the assumption on which I’m operating. The prosecution says he did, I say he didn’t.”

Steve paused, took a sip of coffee. “And let me tell you something. If you didn’t like the doctor and the photos, you are in for a rude shock.” Steve held up his finger. “Because I promise you, I am going to use every trick in the book to get Jeremy Dawson off.”