“How…What does she think about this?”
“She’s standing behind you, Mr. Coolidge. She’ll come to see you on Sunday.”
“Well, that’s good,” Coolidge said in a tired voice. His hand moved toward his breast pocket and stopped.
“Do you have a cigarette?”
“Sorry, I gave them up a year ago. I can ask a guard.”
Coolidge shook his head.
“No, that’s okay.”
He paused before he spoke again.
“Mr…?”
“Shaeffer. Mark Shaeffer.”
“Mr. Shaeffer, before you go any further, I want you to know that I can’t pay a lawyer.”
“Miss Rhodes is going to take care of that.”
Coolidge snapped his head from side to side.
“No. I don’t want her involved in this.”
“Mr. Coolidge, you are going to have to be practical about this. Innocent or guilty, you are charged with two counts of murder. You need professional help. Miss Rhodes has the money to hire me and you don’t. You can reject her help out of pride, but without an attorney the chances are very good that you will spend the rest of your life in a cage. Do you want that?”
Coolidge looked down at his shoes and said nothing. When he looked up, Mark knew that there would be no more protests.
“Okay,” Mark said, “the indictment charges you with killing a woman named Elaine Murray and a man named Richie Walters on or about November 25, 1960. Did you do that?”
“Absolutely not. No.”
“Did you know them?”
“Of course. Everyone knew about that. I went to high school with them.”
“Why do you think the police arrested you?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. My brother and I were arrested when this first happened, but they let us go. Why would they wait so long to arrest me, if they thought I was guilty?”
“I don’t know the answer to that yet. All I have seen is the indictment charging you and your brother with the crime.”
“Billy! He’s arrested too?”
“I assume so.”
Bobby ran his hand across his mouth and, for a few seconds, he was lost in thought.
“Bobby, do any of these names mean anything to you? These are the people listed on the indictment as having been witnesses before the Grand Jury.
“Roy Schindler, Arnold Shultz, Thelma Pullen, Esther Pegalosi, or Dr. Arthur Hollander.”
“No. I’ve never heard of any of them.”
Mark thought for a moment.
“Bobby, you mentioned that the police arrested you when this first happened. Why did they do that?”
Bobby shrugged.
“I don’t know. They asked me a lot of questions about that night. I guess what got us in trouble was we had had a fight and Billy pulled a knife at a party we crashed. And I think they mentioned finding some glasses belonging to a girl we knew in the park near where the Walters kid was killed. But that was it.”
“Tell me, as best you can remember, what you did on the evening of November 25.”
“It’s been so long. I don’t know. I know I was with Billy-my brother-and…uh…Roger…Roger Hessey. Then there was the girl whose glasses they found, Esther Freemont.”
“Wait a second,” Mark interrupted. “Could Esther Freemont be Esther Pegalosi. Did she get married?”
Bobby shook his head.
“I don’t know. I went into the Army right after high school and I didn’t keep track of her. We aren’t good friends.”
Mark made some notes on his yellow pad.
“Go on.”
“Okay. We crashed a party this girl was throwing.”
“What was her name? From now on when you mention people, I want names and addresses, if you can remember them.”
“I’m not going to be much good on the addresses, but I should be able to give you the names.”
Coolidge related the incident at the party and the theft of the wine. Mark took down everything as they went along. He was watching Coolidge closely while the latter spoke, trying to size him up. Bobby was intelligent and articulate. The type of defendant that would be able to assist him in his investigation. But, was he telling the truth? He had seemed sincere when he denied his guilt. It had been the first time that he had spoken forcefully. Yet, for all his inexperience, Mark had represented enough clients to know that it was very difficult to tell if a person was telling the truth.
“What happened after you drank the wine?” Mark asked. Coolidge shrugged.
“I think we cruised downtown for a bit, then took Esther home, then went home ourselves.”
“You think?”
“Well, it’s been some time. But that’s how it seems to me.”
Mark put down his pad and leaned back in his chair.
“Okay. That’s enough for today. I’m going to go see the district attorney and try to get a lead on some of these witnesses.”
Mark stood up and Coolidge looked at him. He ran his tongue nervously across his lower lip before he spoke.
“Mr. Shaeffer, how does it look?”
“I really can’t tell until I find out what the D.A. has.”
Bobby looked down at the floor again.
“Do…do you think you can get me out of here? I mean, isn’t there bail or something?”
“The court doesn’t have to set bail in a murder case and even if they did, I’m afraid that they would set it so high that you could never make it.”
“Oh,” Bobby said in a voice that was almost a sigh. “Well, you try for me, will you, because I had a rough time last night. I’ll tell you, I don’t think I can take it, being locked up for long.”
Eddie Toller entered the attorney’s room of the county jail and spotted his court-appointed attorney reading a newspaper at the rear of the room. Eddie wasn’t anxious to meet this young jerk again. Their only previous meeting had lasted approximately ten minutes following his arraignment. The gawk had handed him his card, told him not to worry, and rushed out. Eddie had even forgotten his name.
The guy looked reluctant to put the paper down when Eddie reached the interview booth and Eddie said, “Fuck you,” under his breath. He doubted this creep would know what he was talking about, even if he did hear him.
“Well, Mr. Toller, I’m afraid I have bad news for you,” the attorney said when Eddie was seated.
“Yeah, well what is that?”
“I talked with the district attorney in charge of your case and I am afraid, in light of your extensive prior record, that he is unwilling to plea negotiate. Furthermore, he has told me that he will ask for the maximum, twenty years, if you go to trial and are convicted, which I am afraid is highly likely in view of the overwhelming evidence that the state has against you.
“However, the district attorney did say that he would not recommend a sentence and would leave sentencing entirely up to the judge if you plead to the charge. At this point that seems like our best bet.”
“To what? Plead to twenty years?”
“Well, the judge doesn’t have to give you twenty years. You were cooperative with the police when they arrested you. That will weigh in your favor.”
“Nah. I ain’t pleadin’ to no twenty years. Look, those cops didn’t give me my rights till we got to the station house. Don’t that mean something?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Toller. You see…”
The attorney babbled on about his rights and how they had not been violated, but Eddie wasn’t listening. Something on the front page of the newspaper the attorney had been reading caught his eyes. It was a picture of a young girl that he thought he had seen before, many years ago. Eddie craned his neck to get a better look at the headline. The paper was folded over so that he could only see half of the page.
“…do you want to proceed?”
“Huh?”
“I asked you how you wanted me to proceed,” the attorney said, obviously annoyed at Eddie’s lack of attention.
“Well, you’re my attorney. You tell me. Only, I ain’t coppin’ to no twenty years.”
“Surely you don’t want to go to trial. You were caught inside the building and you confessed, not once, but twice.”