The Wrong Gun

36

Russ Timberlaine frowned down at the papers in front of him, then looked at Steve Winslow through the wire-mesh screen. “Explain it to me again,” he said.

Steve sighed. “The papers you are signing give me power of attorney to open your safe-deposit box and get the bullets.”

“And the gun.”

Steve took a breath. “I am also having you authorize me to open the safe-deposit box containing the gun.”

“So we can show the bullets came from the gun,” Timberlaine said.

“Of course.”

Timberlaine looked up sharply. “You are going to show the bullets came from the gun?”

“In all due time.”

“What does that mean?”

“At the moment we are being asked to produce bullets. Eventually we will need to show where those bullets came from. That needs to be done in an orderly fashion. Here’s how it will go. We’ll produce the bullets. The bullets will be examined by the ballistics expert, who will compare them to the fatal bullet and to the bullets from the original Pistol Pete gun.

“Now, in one of the test tubes that I gave you is a bullet that you say you dug out of the target. A bullet presumably from the original Pistol Pete gun. If it was indeed from the gun, it should match the test bullets fired from the gun, People’s Exhibit Three, the gun found by the body, the gun believed to be the original Pistol Pete gun.”

“Exactly,” Timberlaine said. “And it will.”

“Fine,” Steve said. “But the bullet in the other test tube-the bullet from the gun you gave me, the gun you found substituted for the original gun-that bullet will not match any of the guns in court.”

“Of course not,” Timberlaine said. “Because they got the wrong gun. I switched guns, so these bullets have absolutely nothing to do with it. The only gun they will match is the gun in my safe-deposit box. Which is why we have to give them that gun.”

“Fine,” Steve said, “but not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not putting on our case. They are. They’ve asked for the bullets, so we give them the bullets. They haven’t asked for the gun, so we don’t give them the gun.”

“That’s silly.”

“No, it isn’t. Try and understand the situation. Vaulding’s putting on his case. Any evidence he brings out, he’s got to explain. We give him these bullets, he gives ’em to the ballistics expert to match ’em up with the fatal bullet. The guy tries and they don’t match. That shoots Vaulding’s theory full of holes and makes him look like a fool. He’s gotta explain the evidence, and he can’t. And there’s no reason for us to help him. Because if he can’t make a case, the judge is gonna dismiss. You hear what I’m sayin’? We don’t have to do anything. The burden of proof is on the prosecution. Let Vaulding putz around and mess things up. Let him look like a schmuck. Then when it’s our turn up to bat, we’ll explain everything and look like champs. The jury will say, ‘Oh, so that’s how it is, thank you so much for clearing it up, not guilty, Mr. Timberlaine.’”

Timberlaine shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

Steve took a breath. “Why the hell not?”

“The witness says I bought a gun.”

“Yeah. So?”

“And Vaulding’s claiming it’s the gun in court.”

“Yeah, but he can’t prove it. So what?”

“That’s what he’s claiming, and people will believe him. So we gotta produce the other gun and prove the gun I bought isn’t the gun in court.”

Steve shook his head. “Here we go again.”

“Why is that the wrong thing to do?”

“I just told you why.”

“Yeah, but I don’t agree.”

Steve shrugged. “You are free to fire me and hire another lawyer.”

“I don’t want to hire another lawyer.”

“Then you have to follow my advice.”

“That isn’t fair.”

Steve looked at him. “What, are you ten years old? You want fair? I don’t think it’s fair that you’re up for murder, but you are. Just because it’s unfair, nobody’s gonna let you off the hook. It’s a sad fact, but that’s life.”

“I know, damn it,” Timberlaine said. “It’s a hell of a position to be in. That’s why I want to do everything I can to get out. And when we have the evidence in our hands-it just seems stupid to sit on it.”

“O.K.,” Steve said. “I’m glad you told me how you felt.”

“You gonna act on it?”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“What does that mean?”

“I means I’ll think about it. I know what you want, and I know what you’re going through. I’m gonna do my best to get you out of this as quickly as possible. That’s all I can do, it’s the best I can promise you. O.K.?”

For a few moments Timberlaine didn’t say anything, just stared at Steve Winslow. Then he looked down, picked up the pen, signed the papers and pushed them through the slot in the wire-mesh screen.

“O.K.,” he said.

But he did not look happy.