That means I'll be working long hours and weekends and I'm going to need help with Kathy. Someone has to pick her up from day care, if I'm tied up in court, make her dinner "What about Rick?"
"I can't ask him. You know why."
"No, I don't know why. He's Kathy's father. He's also your husband. He should be your biggest fan."
"Well, he's not. He's never accepted the fact that I'm a real lawyer with a successful practice."
"What did he think you'd be doing when you hung out your shingle?"
"I think he thought it was going to be a cute bobby like stamp collecting, something to keep me occupied when I wasn't cooking dinner or cleaning."
"Well, he is the man of the house. Men like to feel they're in charge.
And here you are, getting all the headlines and talking on the television."
"Look, Mom, I don't want to discuss Rick. Do you mind? I just get angry."
"All right, I won't discuss him and, of course, I'll help."
"I don't know how I'd make it without you, Mom."
Rita blushed and waved a hand at Betsy. "That's what mothers are for."
"Granny," Kathy yelled from the kitchen, "I can't find the chocolate syrup."
"Why would she want chocolate syrup at seven thirty in the morning?"
Betsy asked menacingly.
"None of your business," Rita answered imperiously.
"I'm coming, sweetheart. It's too high up. You can't reach it."
"I've got to go," Betsy said, with a resigned shake of the head. "And please keep the TV to a minimum."
"We're only reading Shakespeare and studying algebra this morning," Rita answered as she disappeared into the kitchen.
Reggie Stewart was waiting for Betsy on a bench near the visitor's desk at the jail. Stewart had worked at several unsatisfying jobs before discovering a talent for investigation. He was a slender six-footer with shaggy brown hair and bright blue eyes who was most comfortable in plaid flannel shirts, cowboy boots and jeans. Stewart had an odd way of looking at events and a sarcastic air that put off some people. Betsy appreciated the way he used his imagination and his knack for making people trust him.
These attributes proved invaluable in the Hammermill and Peterson cases, where the best evidence of abuse came from the victims' relatives and would have remained buried layers of hate and family pride if it was not for Reggie's persuasiveness and persistence.
"Ready, Chief?" Stewart asked, smiling as he unwound from the bench.
"Always," Betsy answered with a smile.
Stewart had filled out visitor's forms for both of them. A guard sat behind a glass window in a control room. Betsy pushed the forms and their i.d. through a slot in the window and asked for a contact visit with Martin Darius. As soon as the guard told them it was set, she and Reggie emptied the metal objects from their pockets, took off their watches and jewelry and walked through the metal detector. The guard checked Betsy's briefcase, then called for the elevator. When it came, Betsy inserted the key for the seventh floor in a lock and turned it.
The elevator rode up to seven and the doors opened on the same narrow hall Betsy had stepped into the day before.
This time, she walked to the far end and waited in front of a thick metal door with an equally thick piece of glass in the upper half.
Through the glass, she could see the two seventh-floor contact rooms.
They were both empty.
"Darius is going to be a demanding client," Betsy told Stewart as they waited for the guard. "He's used to being in charge, he's very bright and he's tremendous pressure."
"Gottcha."
"Today, we listen. The arraignment isn't until nine so we have an hour.
I want to get his version of what happened in Hunter's Point. If we're not done by nine, you can finish up later."
"what's he facing?"
Betsy pulled a copy of the indictment from her briefcase.
"This don't look good, Chief," Stewart said after reading the charges.
"Who's john Doe'?"
"The man. The police have no idea who he is. His face and fingertips were disfigured with acid and the killer even smashed his teeth with a hammer to try and prevent an i.d. from his dental records."
Stewart grimaced. "This is one set of crime scene photos I'm not lookin' forward to seeing."
"They're the worst, Reg. Look at them before breakfast. I almost lost mine."
"How do you dope it out?"
"You mean, do I think Darius did it?" Betsy shook her head. "I'm not sure. Page is convinced, but either Darius put on a great performance for me yesterday, or he's not guilty."
"So we have a real whodunit?"
"Maybe."
Out of their sight, a heavy lock opened with a loud snap. Betsy craned her neck and saw Darius precede the guard into the narrow space in front of the two contact rooms. When her client was locked in one of them, the guard let Betsy and Stewart into the contact area, then secured the door to the hall where they had been waiting.
After locking them in with Darius, the guard left the contact visiting area by the door through which he had entered.
The contact room was small. Most of the space in it was taken up by a large circular table and three plastic chairs. Darius was sitting in one of them. He did not stand up when Betsy entered.
"I see you brought a bodyguard," Darius said, studying Stewart carefully.
"Martin Darius meet Reggie Stewart, my investigator."
"You're only using one?" Darius asked, ignoring Reggie's outstretched hand. Stewart pulled his hand back slowly.
"Reggie is very good. I wouldn't have won "Hammermill' without him. If I think you need more investigators, you'll get them. Here's a copy of the indictment."
Darius took the paper and read it.
"Page is charging you several theories in the death of each person: personally killing a human being during the commission of the felony crime of kidnapping; torture killing; more than one victim. If he gets a conviction on any theory of Aggravated Murder, we go into a second, or penalty, phase of the trial. That's a second trial on the issue of punishment.
"In the penalty phase, the State has to convince the jurors that you committed the murder deliberately, that the victim's provocation, if any, did not mitigate the killing and that there's a probability that you'll be dangerous in the future. If the jurors answer 'yes' unanimously to these three questions, you'll be sentenced to death, unless there is some mitigating circumstance that convinces any juror that you should not get a death sentence.
"If any juror votes 'no' on any question, the jurors then decide on whether you get life without parole or life with a thirty-year minimum sentence. Any questions, so far?"
"Yes, Tannenbaum," Darius said, looking at her with an amused smile.
"Why are you wasting your time on an explanation of the penalty phase? I did not kidnap, torture or kill these women. I expect you to explain that to our jury."
"What about Hunter's Point?" Betsy asked. "That's going to play a huge part in your trial."
"A man named Henry Waters was the killer. He was shot trying to escape arrest. They found the body of one of his victims disemboweled in his basement. Everyone knew Waters was guilty and the case was closed."
"Then why is Page convinced you killed the Hunter's Point women?"
"I have no idea. I was a victim, for God's sake. I told you. Waters killed Sandy and Melody. I was part of the task force that investigated the killings."
"How did that happen?" Betsy asked, surprised.
"I volunteered. I was an excellent lawyer and I did a lot of criminal defense when I started out. I felt I could provide a unique insight into the criminal mind. The mayor agreed."
"Why didn't you set up a law practice in Oregon?"
Darius stopped smiling. "Why is that important?"