Lisa stared openmouthed at Betsy for a moment.
"Are you suggesting…? I thought you were Martin's lawyer. If you don't believe him, you have no business handling his case. I don't know why he hired you, anyway. Daddy says Oscar Montoya and Matthew Reynolds are the best criminal lawyers in Oregon. He could have had either one of them."
"A lawyer who only thinks what her client wants her to think isn't doing her job," Betsy said calmly. "If there's something you know about these charges, I have to know it, so I can defend Martin properly."
"well, there isn't," Lisa answered, looking away from Betsy. "The whole thing is outrageous."
Betsy decided not to push. "Do you have anyone who can stay with you?" she asked.
"I'll be fine by myself "
"This will get rough, Lisa. The press will be hounding you night and day, and living in a spotlight is much worse than most people imagine.
Do you have an answering machine you can use to screen your calls?"
Lisa nodded.
"Good. Put it on and don't take any calls from the media. Since we don't have any idea of the case against Martin, we don't know what can hurt him. For instance, where Martin was on a certain date might be crucial.
If you tell the press he wasn't with you on that date, it could destroy an alibi. So don't say anything. If a reporter does get through to you, refer her to me. And never talk to the police or someone from the da's office. There's a privilege for husband-wife communications and you have a right to refuse to talk to anyone. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I'll be okay. And I'm sorry I said that. About how Martin could have gotten someone better. I'm just…"
"No need to apologize or explain. This must be very difficult for you."
"You don't have to stay with me."
"I'll stay until the search is finished. I want to see what they're taking. It might tell us why they think Martin's involved. I heard one officer tell Barrow they matched the tread on the BMW to something. That means they've placed Martin's car somewhere. Maybe the crime scene."
"So what? He drives to his construction sites all the time. This whole thing is ridiculous."
"We'll see soon enough," Betsy said, but she was worried. Lisa Darius may have been shocked and surprised by her husband's arrest, but Betsy knew Martin Darius was not. No one gives a $58,000 retainer to a lawyer in anticipation of being arrested for shoplifting. That was the type of retainer a good lawyer received for representing someone on a murder charge.
Chapter Nine
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tannenbaum," Alan Page said when Betsy was seated across his desk in front of him. "Randy Highsmith was very impressed with the way you handled the Hammermill case. He had nothing but nice things to say about you. That's really high praise, because Randy hates to lose."
"I think Randy might not have brought the charges if he knew how brutal Andrea's husband was."
"That's being charitable. Let's face it. Randy thought he'd run over you. You taught him a good lesson. Losing "Hammermill" will make Randy a better prosecutor. But you're not here to talk about old business, are you? You're here to talk about Martin Darius."
"Detective Barrow must have called you at home at the phone number he wouldn't give me."
"Ross Barrow's a good cop who knows how to follow orders."
"Do you want to tell me why you've arrested my client?"
"I think he murdered the four people we found buried at his construction site."
"That's obvious, Mr. Page "Why don't you call me Al?"
"I'd be glad to. And you may call me Betsy. Now that we're on a first-name basis, how about telling me why you searched Martin's house and arrested him?"
Page smiled. "Fraid I can't do that."
"Won't, you mean."
"Betsy, you know you're not entitled to discovery of our police reports until I've filed an indictment."
"You're going to have to tell the judge what you've got at the bail hearing."
"True. But that's not scheduled yet and there's no indictment, so I'm going to stick to the letter of the discovery statutes."
Betsy leaned back in her chair- and smiled sweetly.
"You must not have much confidence in your case, Al."
Page laughed to cover his surprise that Betsy had seen through him so easily.
"I've got plenty of confidence in our case," he lied.
"But I also have a healthy respect for your abilities. I won't make Randy's mistake of underestimating you. I must confess, though, that with your commitment to feminism I was surprised when Ross told me you were defending Darius."
"What does feminism have to do with my representation of Martin Darius?"
"Hasn't he told you what he's done?"
"Martin Darius has no idea why you're holding him and neither do I."
Page looked at her for a moment, then made a decision.
"I guess it's not fair leaving you completely in the dark, so I'll tell you that we plan to indict your client for the kidnapping, torture and murder of three women and one man."
Page took a color photo of Wendy Reiser's body out of a manila envelope and handed it to Betsy. She blanched." The picture had been taken right after the body had been dug up. The naked woman was sprawled in the mud.
Betsy could see the incisions on her stomach and the cuts and burn marks on her legs. She could also see Wendy Reiser's face clearly. Even in death, she seemed to be suffering.
"That's what Martin Darius does to women, Betsy, and this may not be the first time He's done it. We have pretty solid information that ten years ago a man named Peter Lake murdered six women in Hunter's Point, New York, in much the same way these victims were murdered. We also have conclusive proof that Peter Lake and Martin Darius are the same person.
You might want to ask your client about that.
"One other thing. There's another missing woman.
This is a one-time offer: If she's alive and Darius tells us where she is, we might be able to deal."
The jail elevator opened onto a narrow concrete hallway painted in yellow and brown pastels. Across from the elevator were three solid doors. Betsy used the key the guard had given her when she checked in at the visitor's desk. The middle door opened into a tiny room. In front of her was a wall divided in half by a narrow ledge. Below the ledge was concrete; above, a window of bulletproof glass.
Betsy placed her legal pad on the ledge, sat down on an uncomfortable metal folding chair and picked up the receiver on the phone that was attached to the wall to her left.
On the other side of the glass, Martin Darius lifted his receiver. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit, but he still looked as imposing as he had in her office. His hair and beard were combed and he sat erect and at ease.
Darius leaned forward until he was almost touching the glass. His eyes looked a little wild, but that was the only sign of discontent.
"When is the bail hearing scheduled?" Darius asked.
"It isn't."
"I told you I wanted out of here. You should have scheduled the hearing first thing this morning."
"This isn't going to work. I'm an attorney, not a gofer. If you want someone to order around I'll refer you to a maid service."
Darius stared at Betsy for a moment, then flashed an icy smile of concession.
"Sorry. Twelve hours in this place doesn't help your disposition."
"I met with Alan Page, the district attorney, this morning. He had some interesting things to tell me. He also showed me the crime scene photographs. The three women were tortured, Martin. I've seen a lot of cruelty, but nothing like this. The killer didn't just end their lives, he slaughtered them. Tore them open Betsy stopped, as the memory of what she'd seen took her breath away. Darius watched her. She waited for him to say something. When he didn't, she asked:
"Does any of this sound familiar?"