We'll Meet Again

26

For almost six years Philip Matthews had believed that he had done the best job a trial lawyer could to get Molly Lasch a light sentence. Five and a half years for the murder of a doctor with a thirty-five-year life expectancy was practically a free ride.

As Philip had often told Molly on his visits to her in prison, “When you get out, you can put all this behind you.”

But now Molly was out of prison and was doing exactly the opposite of that. It was clear that she did not think she had gotten off easily.

Philip knew that, more than anything else, he wanted to protect Molly from the people who inevitably would attempt to exploit her.

People such as that Fran Simmons.

Late on Friday afternoon, just as he was about to leave for the weekend, his secretary announced a call from Simmons.

Philip considered not taking the call, but then decided he might as well speak to her. His greeting, however, was cool.

Fran got right to the point: “Mr. Matthews, you must have a transcript of Molly Lasch’s trial. I’d like to have a copy of it as soon as possible.”

“Ms. Simmons, I understand you went to school with Molly. So as an old friend, I wish you would consider calling off this program. We both know it can only hurt Molly.”

“Would it be possible to have a copy of the transcript on Monday, Mr. Matthews?” Fran asked crisply, then added, “You must know that I am planning this program with Molly’s complete cooperation. In fact, it’s even at her request that I undertook it in the first place.”

Philip decided to try a different approach. “I can do better than Monday. I’ll have a copy run off and delivered to you tomorrow, but I’m going to ask you to consider something. I believe Molly is much more fragile than anyone realizes. If during the course of your investigation, you become convinced of her guilt, then I ask you to give her a break and cancel this program. Molly is not going to get the public vindication she wants. Don’t destroy her with a guilty-as-charged verdict just so you can get higher ratings from the mindless couch potatoes out there who want to see someone eviscerated.”

“Let me give you my address for your messenger,” Fran said, biting off her words, hoping she sounded as furious as she felt.

“I’ll put my secretary on. Good-bye, Ms. Simmons.”

Once Fran had replaced the receiver, she got up and walked to the window. She was due in makeup right now but knew she needed to take a moment to calm down first. Without having met him, she thoroughly disliked Philip Matthews, although she could not help feeling that he was passionately sincere in his desire to shield Molly.

She found herself wondering suddenly if anyone had ever considered searching for another explanation for Gary Lasch’s death. Molly’s parents and friends, Philip Matthews, the Greenwich police, and the state attorney who prosecuted her-all of them must have begun with the presumption of her guilt.

Which is exactly what I’ve been doing as well, Fran thought. Maybe it’s time to start with the opposite approach.

Molly Carpenter Lasch did not kill her husband, Gary Lasch, she said to herself, considering the sound of it, and wondering where it would lead.