"What happened exactly?" Mancini asked.
Booth told him. Mancini digested this information.
He looked at the case from the feds' point of view. The DEA must have been onto Vargas all along and followed him to Booth's home. Carlos and Vargas had probably been photographed loading the cocaine into the van and the three men had been caught red-handed. The case was open and shut. No search-and-seizure problems, no statements to be suppressed. just three amigos standing around with enough cocaine to get every man, woman, child and household pet in the state high.
Mancini shook his head solemnly. "This is going to be tough, Kevin. I'm going to have to work overtime to save your butt."
"You think you can win, Steve?" Booth pleaded, looking so pathetic that Mancini had to choke back a laugh.
"Didn't I take care of you the last time?"
"Yes. Yes you did," Booth responded eagerly.
"Now, with a case this big, I'll need twenty thousand up front," Mancini continued.
"Twenty ... The last time you only charged me seventy-five hundred."
"The last time we were in state court and you weren't caught with twenty kilos of snow. Fighting the feds is expensive. They have the resources of the entire government. I'm fighting Washington, D.C not some small town D.A."
"I don't have twenty thousand dollars," Booth said desperately.
"What about your parents?"
"My father ran off when I was two. I don't even remember him. And my mother," Booth said bitterly, "she's dead."
"Where did you get the dough last time?"
"Chris Mammon lent it to me."
"Well?" Mancini said with a shrug. "From what you've told me, you're in this scrape because of Mammon. Ask him to go your fee."
Booth hung his head. "I already called him. He won't talk to me."
Mancini sighed. "I want to help you, Kevin, but I can't work for free. Not on a case this big. You understand that, don't you?"
"You won so easy the last time. Can't you give me some credit? If you get me off I'll pay you double."
"No can do. Sorry, but I have an ironclad rule about fees in criminal cases."
Mancini looked at his watch. "Hey, I'm going to have to break this off. I'm due in court."
"Wait a minute. You can't just walk out on me."
"I'm afraid I have other clients, Kevin."
"Don't do this to me, man," Booth whined, "you gotta help."
"I really am due in court."
Mancini started to rap for the guard, but Booth grabbed him by the arm.
"I'll ... I'll tell the cops about you," Booth threatened.
Mancini did not move his arm. Instead he turned until his face was inches from Booth's.
"Oh, really?" Mancini said. "What exactly will you tell them?"
The former quarterback's bicep felt like steel through his suit jacket and Booth knew he had made a mistake.
"You ... you know," Booth stuttered.
"Let go of my arm, Kevin," Mancini said softly.
Booth's grip loosened. Mancini still did not move. Finally, Booth's eyes dropped and he released Mancini's arm. Mancini slowly lowered it.
"Never touch me again, Kevin. And never, ever threaten me. But if you feel compelled to talk, remember that two can play that game. Would you like me to visit Rafael Vargas and confirm his suspicions about you?"
Booth swallowed. Mancini smiled coldly, then made a point of turning his back on Booth. Booth sank back on his chair, shaking with terror at the thought of a life in prison, if he was fortunate enough to escape the vengeance of Rafael Vargas.
Chapter THIRTEEN.
Reporters from the Clarion, several other eastern Oregon papers and the local TV station were waiting for Peter outside the courtroom where Gary was to be arraigned. Peter made a brief statement expressing his total belief in his client's innocence. During the statement Peter made numerous references to the Bill of Rights, the Constitution and the American System of justice. He loved every moment in the spotlight.
Donna, Jesse and Alice Harmon were sitting with Steve Mancini in the front row of spectator seats. Peter stopped briefly to say hello, then walked through the low wooden gate that separated the spectators from the court. There were several defendants waiting to be arraigned and Gary was last on the list. Peter expected Earl Ridgely to handle Gary's arraignment, but Becky O'Shay was handling all the arraignments today and she called the case.
A guard brought Gary into the courtroom. He was used to his status as a prisoner by now and looked more confused than afraid. Gary spotted his parents. He started toward them, but the guard grabbed Gary by the elbow and pointed him toward Peter.
The clerk presented Peter and Gary with copies of an indictment charging Gary with aggravated murder, the most serious degree of homicide in Oregon and the only charge that carried the death penalty. The judge explained the charge and his rights to Gary, then the judge asked Gary what plea he wanted to enter. Peter told him to say, "Not guilty," and Gary said the words in a nervous whisper that could be heard easily only by those within the bar of the court. Peter and Becky discussed scheduling with the judge for a few minutes; then the arraignment was over.
"Hold up, will you?" Peter asked Becky. She waited patiently at her counsel table while Peter told Gary he would see him later in the afternoon, after he had a chance to read the discovery. As soon as Gary was led out, Peter smiled and asked O'Shay, "How've you been?"
"Great. Sorry about the other night."
"Me, too. Maybe I can collect on that rain check soon?"
"The Harmon case is a real plum for you," Becky said, skillfully avoiding Peter's question. Peter tried to look modest.
"A death penalty case is a big responsibility," he answered solemnly. "Where's Earl? I thought he'd want to handle Gary's arraignment personally."
"Earl isn't prosecuting Gary."
"He isn't? Then, who ... O'Shay smiled.
"You? You're going to prosecute?"
O'Shay nodded and looked suddenly somber. "Unfortunately, Peter, that means that we won't be able to see each other for a while, except, of course, in the courtroom."
Peter had been looking forward to going out with Becky. He felt a little depressed. Gary's case was going to put a damper on his social life.
O'Shay touched Peter lightly on the arm. "Come up to my office and I'll give you the discovery. And don't look so glum. We can make up for lost time when the trial is over."
After court, to his delight, Peter was interviewed by the press again, then Jesse Harmon gave him a twenty-fivethousand-dollar installment of the retainer. The money and the rush from being the center of attention put Peter in a very good mood.
Peter was so excited about the prospect of being the lead counsel in a major case that he had not given much thought to whether Gary had killed Sandra Whiley.
Gary's claim that he did not have a clear memory of the hours when the killing occurred and his evasive answers when asked point-blank if he had killed Sandra Whiley had aroused Peter's suspicions, but he had little basis for forming an opinion until he read the police reports.
When he returned to his office, Peter dumped the stack of police reports and the box of tapes O'Shay had given him ant o his desk and hunted up a tape recorder so he could hear Gary's interrogation. As he listened, Peter's mood changed from excitement to confusion to concern. Something was not right. Peter could see that Gary knew a lot about the murder, but what was this projection transfer" and "supernatural mind" stuff? It sounded to Peter as if Sergeant Downes had tricked Gary into making many of the statements that were incriminating. What i Gary was repeating what Downes said and not remembering it? What if Gary was innocent)