‘‘Do the other prisoners like her?’’ asked Diane.
He nodded. ‘‘They do. She writes briefs for them. Pretty good at it too. She’s gotten one woman a new trial and another one visitation for her kid. That’s really a good record.’’
It certainly was, thought Diane. Now she knew why the DA was so nervous. Apparently there was no end to Clymene’s skills.
‘‘And the guards?’’ asked Diane.
He shrugged. ‘‘They like her as much as they like any of the prisoners, I suppose. Probably more because she doesn’t cause trouble. There are a couple of guards she is friendly with, I think. Guards are like the rest of us. Cynical. We hear and see a lot.’’
‘‘You don’t seem cynical,’’ said Diane.
‘‘I try not to be. Occasionally we actually get prisoners who are really innocent. It happens more than you think. I try to keep an open mind without becoming gullible. And I try not to take it too hard when they disappoint me. It’s not an easy line to walk.’’
‘‘I can imagine,’’ said Diane, though he seemed to her like a man who felt disappointments deeply.
He shifted in his chair and stared a moment at the handout in front of him. After a moment he looked back up at Diane.
‘‘I’m not familiar with the evidence against Clymene O’Riley. I get the impression from prison talk that it was weak.’’ He gave a faint laugh that barely made it out of his throat. ‘‘Something about creative scrapbooking?’’
Diane grinned at him. ‘‘Those illustrated her duplicity and pointed to an underlying scheme.’’ Diane took a breath and explained in detail about the scrapbooks. Rivers bent forward, resting his arms on the desk, and listened.
‘‘None were true?’’ he asked.
‘‘Not that we could discover. Almost all the photographs of her were digitally inserted over a background. Those places we could contact—like the car rally in Greece and the archaeology digs—did not have her in their records and had no one who remembered her, though they could verify that her husbands had been there.’’
‘‘I see,’’ said Rivers. But Diane wasn’t sure that he did.
‘‘Clymene’s scrapbooks were only secondary to the case,’’ said Diane. ‘‘The key piece of evidence was the cotton ball, and it was a slam dunk.’’
Chapter 5
‘‘The cotton ball?’’ Rev. Rivers sat up straight in the chair. ‘‘I don’t know about that.’’
‘‘Do you know how Clymene’s husband died?’’ asked Diane.
Rev. Rivers frowned and looked at a vase of irises to his right. ‘‘Lockjaw, I think she said.’’ He looked back at Diane. ‘‘Is that right?’’
‘‘Yes. Archer O’Riley flew to Micronesia to work on an archaeological dig. Clymene was supposed to be with him but developed a case of the flu at the last minute. She was to join him later. He arrived feeling sick, headachy, feverish, and a little stiff. He thought he was also coming down with the flu. The archaeology team sent him to a hospital in Guam. On the way he had seizures so severe that he broke one of his vertebrae and his arm was so swollen and inflamed the doctors were going to amputate it.’’
Rivers winced. ‘‘Tetanus is rare, isn’t it? I can’t say I’ve ever heard of anyone dying of it, despite all my mother’s warnings about stepping on rusty nails.’’
‘‘Yes, it’s rare. Only about eight people a year die from tetanus in this country, out of a population of three hundred million,’’ said Diane.
Rivers said nothing for a moment, as if he were searching for the right words. ‘‘She . . . she somehow infected him? You proved it? With a cotton ball?’’ He looked skeptical.
‘‘One cotton ball about that big’’—Diane made a circle with her thumb and index finger—‘‘told the entire story. I’ve never had evidence that good before.’’
Rivers shifted in the small chair. A few of the but
of pulling tons on his shirt looked to be in danger
loose. He shifted again.
‘‘I don’t know the details of Clymene
trial,’’ he said. ‘‘All I really know is that she was con
husband and suspected of victed of killing her last
killing her first husband.’’ Diane started to say they didn’t know if Robert
Carthwright was her first husband or second, third, or
tenth for that matter, but she let that go. The fact was,
she didn’t know. She did know the evidence supporting the Archer O’Riley murder and she felt it was
important for Rev. Rivers to know it.
‘‘Archer O’Riley died just an hour after they got
him to the hospital,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Why was murder suspected?’’ asked Rivers. ‘‘It wasn’t right away. His body was flown back to
the United States, where it was examined by his own
doctor, who was concerned about the arm because the
site of the infection was where his office had taken a
blood sample in a routine checkup just days before.’’ ‘‘Naturally, he didn’t want liability,’’ said Rivers. ‘‘Naturally,’’ repeated Diane.
Clymene had gotten to Rev. Rivers. Diane could see
it in his face—the way he blushed at leaping to her
defense. She guessed that he hadn’t realized it himself
until now—until he felt called upon to defend her. Diane imagined that it had been easy for Clymene O’Riley’s to win Rivers over, even though he was resistant to prisoners trying to pull the wool over his eyes. He was a man with meager resources, dedicated to making a difference among the prisoners. Successes were probably few and far between. Clymene hadn’t told him what he wanted to hear, like so many prisoners do. She told him what he hadn’t expected to hear. Making a promise, small though it was, and keeping it set her apart from the prisoners who made pledges he knew they couldn’t keep. By his account, Clymene listened, asked questions, and participated in a meaningful way in his classes—actions above and beyond her simple pledge to keep an open mind. A small thing, but an important thing to Rivers. Clymene was good at calcu
lating what was important to people.
Saying she was afraid and wanted a safe place to
work was probably true. What was it Frank, her whitecollar-crime detective-friend, said? Truth makes the lie
believable in a con. Clymene was undoubtably good at
using truth to her advantage—just as good as she was
at making fiction seem true.
Diane saw now what Clymene was doing—why she
hadn’t filed an appeal yet. She was gathering her supporters first. The DA said she had a following on the
outside consisting of a few friends and people she
went to church with. Having the prison chaplain on
her side would be a PR coup for her.
‘‘The health department investigated the doctor’s
office,’’ said Diane. ‘‘They found nothing that would