"That's quite apparent," Cozy replied. He actually tried to smile before he retreated back up the stairs to his bedroom to find a robe.
After the defense lawyer disappeared up the stairs, Sam said, "That went better than I expected."
Cozy was down about five minutes later. He'd taken a quick shower and was wearing sweats.
"Alan, Sam. I must let you know that the two of you make an odd pair standing at my door in the dark hours before dawn. My initial guess when I saw you, Detective, was that this was about Royal Peterson. But Alan? I don't figure your part. So, please, Detective-is this about Royal Peterson's murder? You've been working that, haven't you? Is that a fair assumption on my part?"
Sam said, "Yes, Mr. Maitlin. That's a fair assumption." Sam rubbed the back of his hand across the stubble on his chin. The grating sound was audible, and kind of creepy. "Earlier this morning I picked someone up for questioning in Royal's murder. We're here to talk with you about whether or not you'd be interested in representing that person."
Cozy had been ignoring the 7-Eleven coffee. I doubted that he'd consumed anything so plebeian in quite some time. But after Sam disclosed the nature of our errand, Cozy reached down and lifted his cardboard cup, flicked off the plastic lid, and took a long swallow. When he looked back up he was staring at me. I was wearing my psychotherapist's face, disclosing nothing.
"This is irregular," Cozy proclaimed.
"That's an understatement," I said.
"It's not often that I'm approached by the lead detective of a homicide investigation asking me to represent someone he's just… fingered. Is that a good description of what is occurring here?"
Sam's shoulders had sunk and he was focusing his attention on the liquid in his cup as though the shimmering surface were the glass of a crystal ball. My impression was that Sam had used all the energy he'd had left just to tell Cozy why we were there.
At that moment, I suspected that was why Sam had asked me to come along. He needed me to be ready to take over.
I said, "Sam's not part of the investigation any longer, Cozy. He was removed from the case a few hours ago, right after he picked up his partner for questioning for Royal's murder. On his way out she asked him to help her find a lawyer. He asked Lauren and me for advice. Now, Sam wants to talk with you about representing her. Her name is Lucy Tanner. Sam thought it would be better for you and him to talk before the media is all over this."
Cozy shifted his eyes from me to Sam and back. It was as though he was waiting for Sam or me to slap a thigh and tag him with a punch line. Finally, Cozy stood up. He had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the light fixture that hung in the center of the room. For a minute or more he stood at the large window that faced Maxwell Street, his back to us.
Past him, in the distance, I could see the first glimmers of morning light on the eastern horizon.
Sam was still staring into his cup.
Cozy turned around. He said, "I'll do it."
Sam raised his head and his eyes narrowed at Cozy.
"Where is my client?" Cozy asked.
"Sam?" I asked. "Lucy would still be at Thirty-third Street, right? She wouldn't have been moved over to the jail?"
"When I left she was still at the department. They wouldn't take her over to the jail unless they had enough to arrest her." He shifted his gaze to Cozy. "You should be able to find her at Thirty-third Street."
The lawyer asked the detective a lawyer question. "Do they have enough to charge her?"
Sam said, "In my opinion, no. It's not my opinion that counts, though, is it?"
Cozy nodded. "I'd like to ask you a few things. You picked her up this morning? Was that at her home?"
"Yeah. About two-thirty."
"Did she say anything to you at that time?"
Sam buried his lower lip in his mustache and shook his head. "You don't know Lucy Tanner. Let me tell you something about her: Your new client's a very smart lady, Mr. Maitlin. She's not going to be talking to anyone."
"Then why pick her up? What's the upside? Why not wait until more evidence was developed?"
"It wasn't my decision. Once things started playing out the way they started playing out, it was decided to bring her in to talk to her. The department has kind of a bad reputation concerning delaying questioning of witnesses in murder investigations. I think that was a major motivator in the decision. They wanted to talk to Lucy before she figured out that she should be talking to you."
Cozy sat back. "She was there with you on Friday night, right? At the Peterson house?"
"She was."
"The whole time?"
"The whole time. We worked the scene together. She kept the log."
I could tell Cozy adored the image he was forming in his imagination. He was already cross-examining witnesses in his head.
"She's had access to the murder book from the start?"
"From the start."
Cozy nodded. Sipped again at his coffee. He looked at Sam over the rim of the cardboard cup. "You want to tell me what you have on her?"
Sam said, "See… this is where it gets dicey, Mr. Maitlin."
"Call me Cozy."
"I'm not comfortable with that, yet. I'll try to work through it, though, I promise."
I wasn't sure Sam's sarcasm even registered on Cozy.
Sam continued. "Anyway, I'm here to help my partner. I'm not here to betray the Boulder Police Department. Even though it's not my case anymore, you know damn well I can't reveal the fruits of the investigation."
"But you had cause to pick her up?"
Sam closed his eyes, grimaced, and added a little headshake. "Bringing her in may not have been my idea, and may not have been a good idea strategically, but it wasn't bogus."
I said, "Cozy? Think about this. Sam just turned in his partner-his close friend-for questioning in a very, very high profile murder. Even though he didn't agree with the decision, he's telling you that he's convinced that the evidence warranted it."
Cozy said, "That's the truth, Sam?"
"Yeah. That's the truth."
Cozy said, "I should make a quick call to the detectives who are chatting with my client and inform them of my involvement."
Sam buried his bottom lip in his mustache and nodded his agreement before he stood to leave. I stood, too.
Cozy said, "I'll do my best for your friend, Sam."
Sam didn't respond until we got to the front door. "I wasn't honest with you before, Mr. Maitlin. She did say something to me when I went to her place. She reached up and grabbed my head and pulled it real close to hers. She stuck her lips next to my ear and she said, 'I didn't do it, Sam. Keep looking.' That's all she said."
Cozy said, "You believe her?"
Sam said, "A thousand percent."
CHAPTER 5
I'd told myself that the media was going to be all over this case, but still I wasn't prepared for the breadth of the invasion that had already occurred. It was all so Ramsey-reminiscent. Microwave trucks were all over town-the Public Safety Building on Thirty-third, the Justice Center on Sixth, and of course, outside the Peterson home-and reporters and producers were tripping over each other trying to discover a virgin angle or finagle a reluctant interview.
Lauren and I tried to pick a route from our home to Community Hospital that would shield us from the press. As I stopped at a red light at Thirtieth, I said, "Are you thinking much about what Lucy is going through?" As a rule, Lauren and I didn't dwell on the episode that had landed her in even worse circumstances than the ones that Lucy currently faced. Lauren had actually been arrested and taken to jail, accused of shooting someone.