“No.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You mean in all the time you were talking about that’s not my gun, somebody stole my gun, I haven’t seen that gun in weeks, you didn’t say, I can prove it, I got bullets my attorney checked out for me?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Really? Why not?”
Timberlaine shrugged helplessly. “I guess I just didn’t think of it.”
“Well, thank goodness for small favors,” Steve said. “The cops have enough evidence to play with without that. All right, you didn’t mention the bullets, that’s fine. Now that I’ve reminded you, you’re not going to mention ’em now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not going to mention anything. From now on, the cops ask you something, you say, see my lawyer. Any question at all, you say, see my lawyer. And you don’t volunteer anything. You don’t get some bright idea, suddenly come up with something you think, gee, the cops ought to know, and you run and tell them. From here on in, you don’t give the cops the time of day.”
Timberlaine blinked.
“You got that?” Steve said.
Timberlaine took a breath. “Yeah.”
“Where are the bullets now?”
“In a safe-deposit box.”
“That’s the best news I’ve had all day. Just shut up about ’em and let ’em stay there.”
Steve stood up, turned to go.
Timberlaine said, “Hey, I want to get out of here.”
Steve turned back. He held up his finger. “Good thought.” He pointed at Timberlaine. “Bet you wish you had it before you shot your mouth off to the cops.”
20
Steve Winslow was on his way out the front door when a young cop stopped him.
“Mr. Winslow?”
“Yeah?”
“Mr. Vaulding wants to see you.”
“Who?”
The young cop flushed slightly. “District Attorney Robert Vaulding.”
“Oh, that Vaulding,” Steve said.
The young cop gave him a look.
Steve shrugged. “Hey, I’m from Manhattan. What do I know? So where’s Vaulding?”
The young cop led Steve to the D.A.’s outer office, parked him in the corner and conferred in low tones with the officer at the desk. The officer picked up the phone and spoke into it, and moments later the door to the inner office opened, and a tall thin man in a three-piece suit said, “Mr. Winslow?”
“Yes.”
“Robert Vaulding. Please come in.”
Steve sized the man up on his way in the door. Vaulding was young, probably no older than Steve himself. His jet black hair was cut short and carefully groomed. His appearance was impeccable if not fastidious. Even his nails looked manicured. The impression Steve got was that, having gotten elected to the position of district attorney, Robert Vaulding had attempted to make up for his lack of years by disguising himself as a conservative old fart.
His smile, however, was still young, almost boyish. He grinned at Steve Winslow, said, “Sit down.”
“I’ll stand,” Steve said. “You can skip the ceremony, Vaulding. Why am I here?”
Vaulding’s smile became lopsided. “I heard you were direct.”
“You heard right. Cut the shit. What’s the story?”
“No story. I just thought we should talk.”
“Why?”
Vaulding frowned. “There’s no reason to be hostile.”
“Oh, yeah?” Steve said. “I thought the habit of burying a suspect went out in the forties or fifties.”
“Oh.”
“Oh, indeed. The cops and my client got lost somewhere between his place and here. An accident, I’m sure. And I’m sure anything he might have told them in the meantime is entirely coincidental. But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Vaulding spread his hands wide. “What can I say? I’m sorry about that. But I assure you, Mr. Timberlaine’s rights were not violated in any way. He was perfectly aware of the fact he was under no obligation to speak, and anything he said was entirely of his own volition.”
“I’m sure he was,” Steve said, dryly. “That’s not the point, and you know it. A man who didn’t know any better was kept away from his attorney so the attorney couldn’t advise him to keep his mouth shut.”
Vaulding shrugged. “An unfortunate situation. But I happen to know Russ Timberlaine. Short of tying and gagging him, you think you could have kept him quiet?”
“Probably not.”
“There you are.”
“No, I’m not. Jesus Christ, you gonna argue like this in court, Vaulding? Yeah, the way we got the evidence was wrong, but what the hell, we’d have got it anyway, so what’s the difference?’”
“I admit the situation is unfortunate. I’m wondering if we can get beyond it for the moment.”
“Why?”
Vaulding took a breath. “I got a call this morning. From Harry Dirkson.”
“Oh? And what has the Manhattan district attorney got to do with life out here?”
“Absolutely nothing. But he heard about the Timberlaine case.”
“Oh?”
“And the fact you were his attorney.”
“You mean he had opinions about that?”
“I’ll say. Would it surprise you to learn Harry Dirkson does not hold you in the highest regard?”
“No. I would imagine he told you I was living poison, I was the kiss of death, you should have nothing to do with me.”
“Or words to that effect,” Vaulding said, grinning. “Well, without admitting he said anything like that, I think you get the picture.”
“So?”
Vaulding, who had remained standing when Steve did, now sat down at his desk, leaned back in his chair and cocked his head. “So, that’s all well and good, but I don’t have to buy it. I’ve followed some of your cases.” He grinned. “Not surprising. They’re hard to miss. Anyway, the way I see it, Dirkson’s got no beef coming. The people he was trying to prosecute happened to be innocent. Which is hardly your fault.”
Steve eyed Vaulding narrowly. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to say you’re gonna get a fair shake here. We’re adversaries, yes, and I want to win. But not if it means convicting an innocent man.”
“How noble of you.”
Vaulding frowned. “You’re not making this particularly easy.”
“I’m pissed off and you know why. If you think a speech about your good intentions makes up for it, you’re wrong. That’s for starters. The clincher is, I still don’t know why I’m here.”
“I told you-”
“Bullshit. Cut the commercial, Vaulding. What do you want?”
Vaulding took a breath. “All right. For one thing, your client is a wealthy man. I hate to inconvenience him, and I want to do everything possible to expedite things and assure him a speedy trial. If that is also your intention, then we have no problem. If you were planning delays and postponements, we do.”
Steve Winslow looked at Vaulding a moment. “Of course. Bail. You got a jail full of minority defendants can’t make bail on a whole bunch of chickenshit charges. You’re a politician, you gotta keep the masses happy, the last thing you need is some rich white defendant walking around free on a murder charge.”
Vaulding smiled. “Nice deduction. It’s not the type of thing I’d tell the press, but since it’s just you and me talking here, let’s say you’re right.”
“That would piss me off,” Steve said. “If it’s in my client’s interest to push for bail, I’ll push for bail.”
“Of course you would,” Vaulding said. “In fact, the standard procedure would be to get him out on bail and stall like crazy. However, you have a reputation for the unorthodox. So I was thinking you might like to go right to court.”
“Again, it would depend on what’s in my client’s best interests.”
“Of course. I’m just telling you my preference so you know if you want to expedite matters you have that option.”
“That’s fine, but I know perfectly well what my options are and I’ll do whatever’s best for my client.”
Steve turned to go.
“Hang on, hang on,” Vaulding said. “That’s a minor matter. That’s not why I asked you in here. I want to discuss your participation in the case.”