“Richard, I’m Andy Carpenter,” I say, not exactly the most enlightening thing I could have come up with. He wants to know what the hell is going on, and here I am telling him the one thing he already knows.
He composes himself and says, “Please tell me what this is all about.”
I nod. “I rescued a dog… the dog in this picture. Karen found out about it and came to see me. She said it’s Reggie… your dog.”
He closes his eyes for a moment and then nods. “It is; I’m sure of it.”
“Is there any way you can prove it?” I ask.
“To who?”
“To me, so that I can prove it to the authorities,” I say. “At this point I need to be completely positive.”
“And then what?” he asks.
“Then I’ll try and help you. If you want me to.”
“Can you bring Reggie here?”
I think about this for a few moments, though the possibility has occurred to me before. “I’m not sure if I could arrange it,” I say. “But even if I could, it would take a while.”
“Then how can I prove it to you?” he says, exasperation in his voice. “Karen knows him… She can tell you.”
I nod. “She has.”
“Wait a minute,” he says. “Let me talk to Karen for a second.”
I hand Karen the phone, and Richard talks to her briefly. Whatever he says is enough to make her light up. “I forgot about that! Will he do it for me?”
Richard answers her, nodding his head as he does so. She then hands the phone back to me, and Richard says, “Karen should be able to prove it. Then what happens?”
“Then you hire me, if that’s what you want. What about the lawyer who handled your trial-”
He interrupts. “Forget about him.”
“I read the transcript,” I say. “He did not do a bad job.”
He frowns. “I’m here, aren’t I?” It’s a point that’s hard to counter.
“Okay. After that, I come back here and interview you, and I learn everything about your case. Then we figure out how to proceed, if we proceed.”
“You think we have a chance?” he asks.
It’s important that I be straight with him. “Right now we have absolutely nothing. Zero. But if you’re innocent, then it means there’s something out there to be discovered. Which is what we have to do.”
“I’m innocent,” he says; then he smiles. “Everyone in here is.”
A sense of humor in his situation is a good sign, and he’s going to need it. I tell him that he’ll have to sign a retainer hiring me as his attorney, with the disclaimer that it could be a short-term hire, depending on what I find out.
“I don’t have much money to pay you,” he says.
“Let’s not focus on that now.”
“Karen got some money from the sale of the house. We never got the boat back, but the cabin is worth something, and-”
“We can worry about that some other time, or never,” I say, getting up to leave. “I’ll be back to talk to you soon.”
“The sooner the better.”
Karen asks me to take her back to my house so she can prove to me that Reggie is, in fact, Richard’s dog. She doesn’t want to tell me exactly how she is going to do that, and I don’t press her. I’ve got other things to think about.
I learned a long time ago that I can’t judge a person’s guilt or innocence based on a first-or even tenth- impression. I’ve got a fairly well developed bullshit detector, but it’s far from foolproof, and my conversation with Richard Evans wasn’t nearly long enough or substantive enough.
But the truth is that I liked him and that I may have done him a disservice by showing up this way. He would have to be super-human not to be feeling a surge of hope, and at this point any confidence would by definition be overconfidence. I could have-should have-learned much more about the case before springing it on him. That way, if I thought it was not worth pursuing, he wouldn’t have the letdown he surely will have.
“How well did you know Stacy Harriman?” I ask.
“Pretty well,” Karen says. “She and Richard only were together for less than a year, but I saw them a lot. Richard really loved her.”
“What do you know about her background?”
“She was from Montana, or Minnesota, or something. She didn’t talk about it much, and she didn’t have any family. Her parents died in a car accident when she was in high school, so I guess there wasn’t much to keep her there.”
“What did she do?” I ask.
“She lived with Richard.”
“I mean for a living.”
“She lived with Richard,” she repeats, and I think I detect some annoyance or bitterness or something.
“And you’re not aware of any problems between them?” I ask.
“No,” she says, a little too quickly.
“Karen, I’m going to try and learn everything I can about what happened to Richard and Stacy. It is the only way I have any chance of accomplishing anything. If you know something, anything, that you don’t share with me, you’re hurting your brother.”
“I don’t know anything,” she says. “They just didn’t seem to fit together.”
“How so?”
“Richard is a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of person. He always lets people inside, sometimes before he should. But that is just his way.”
“And Stacy?” I ask.
Karen shrugs. “I couldn’t read her. It’s like she had a wall up. I mean, she was friendly and pleasant, and she seemed to care about Richard, but-”
“But something didn’t fit,” I say.
She nods. “Right. I kept waiting for a phone call saying they were splitting up. They were engaged, but I just had a feeling they wouldn’t be together long-term.” She shakes her head sadly. “But I sure never figured it would end this way.”
If there’s one common denominator among everybody that a defense attorney meets in the course of handling a murder case, it’s that no one “figured it would end this way.” But it always does.
“Richard mentioned a house, a boat, and a cabin. Did he have a lot of money back then?”
“No. Our parents left the house and cabin to us; they weren’t worth that much.”
“Where were they?”
“The house was in Hawthorne; we sold that to pay for his defense. The cabin is in upstate New York, near Monticello. We kept it, but I never go there.”
“Why not?”
“I’m waiting for Richard to go with me,” she says.
“And the boat?” I ask.
“Richard bought that. It was his favorite thing in the world… except for Reggie.”
Karen asks if I’ll stop and get a pizza on the way home, the type of request that I basically will grant 100 percent of the time. She orders it with thick crust; it’s not my favorite, but pizza is pizza.
Tara and Reggie are there to greet us when we arrive home. I think Tara is enjoying the company, though she would never admit it. She’s used the situation to extract extra biscuits out of me, but I’m still grateful that she’s being a good sport.
We eat the pizza, and I notice that Karen does not eat the crust, instead tearing pieces off and putting them to the side. It surprises me because I always do the same, since Tara loves the crusts. She tells me that she’s saving her pieces for Reggie, but asks if we can delay giving out these baked treats for a few minutes.
Karen lets me know that she is about to prove Richard’s ownership of Reggie. She seems nervous about it and prefaces it with a disclaimer that what she is about to get him to do, he has only done for Richard. Karen expresses the hope I won’t read any possible failure as evidence that she and Richard are wrong.
She grabs the empty pizza box and takes Reggie out the front door, and then comes back in without him or the box, closing the door behind her. She leads me over to a window from where we can see him sitting patiently on the porch, just outside the door.