Fox is Framed (10 page)

Chapter 11

Whatever Gainer was hiding, it must be worse than what he'd told me—something in the present, involving the anonymous threat he'd been sent. I drove straight from his place to my office, needing to reassure myself that the police would find no proof that the e-mail had been sent to him by one of us.

We had an open network, meaning that from my computer I had full access to the hard drives of the other machines in the office. I started by searching the whole system for the file name, typing in the numbers I'd remembered and written down as soon as I was out of Gainer's house. There were no hits, but all that proved was that whoever had sent the file attached to that anonymous e-mail hadn't been dumb enough to save it locally. Or so the police would say.

I widened the search to include all picture files, which led me to a trove of pornography in Teddy's Internet cache. I clicked through some of the pictures. None of what I saw struck me as potential blackmail material or as having anything to do with Eric Gainer.

I felt a momentary relief. Whoever had sent that e-mail, it didn't appear that it could be traced back to this office. On the other hand, I wasn't so naïve as to believe that the lack of an obvious connection put us in the clear.

I typed the file name into the search bar of my web browser, and my breath caught, a jolt of adrenaline going through me as the result appeared on my screen. The picture showed Eric Gainer with a wide smile, sitting on an Adirondack chair on a balcony over the ocean at night. A woman sat on his lap, her legs over his legs, her arm around his neck. She was a tall woman, big-breasted but with a small pixie's face, teeth that had never been fixed, and an attractive mop of curly brown hair. She looked straight at the camera, her face seeming to glow with pride of possession and something else, like she was keeping a secret from him. Another girl knelt beside her, holding the camera out before her to take the shot.

The picture was on a photo-sharing website. There was no clue as to the women's identity, no way to contact the poster. We could send a subpoena, but it was doubtful that the person who'd set up the account had used his or her real name. I could go to Car and ask him to try his contacts with the police to identify the woman. But I couldn't see him getting anywhere without telling more than I wanted him to know about the blackmail allegations Eric Gainer had made against my father.

There was another option, but I didn't like it. Something about the woman made me think she might be a prostitute. The next day, after Lawrence had gone for his afternoon nanny duties at Tamara's, I walked across the reception area and leaned in my brother's door. Teddy was absorbed in his work, three different binders open before him as he laboriously typed and rearranged his sentences.

“Hey.” He didn't look up.

“Dad at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“Tam's okay with it?”

“He gets over there, grabs the laundry basket and runs a load, cleans up the kitchen, takes out the diaper pail, whatever needs to be done. He'll sit with Carly while Tam works or goes to her therapy group or yoga class. He's good with her, Leo. You saw them together. He even made dinner the other night. Mac and cheese. Even Debra doesn't seem to mind having him around.”

“Look, you want to help me out on something tonight?” I asked him.

He gave me a regretful look that took in the loaded desk, the boxes and boxes of documents. “I've got just about as much work as I can handle.”

“It's not a brief. I want you to come with me to see someone. I need information, and there's only one person I know who might be able to give it to me. Trouble is, I need your charming personality to ease my way.”

He laced his hands behind his neck, cracked his knuckles. “Yeah? Who?”

“Tanya.” Teddy's old secretary, who'd run a small-scale prostitution ring under his nose for years and now had made pimping her livelihood. “She might be able to help me identify a potential witness.”

He frowned. “I don't have a clue how to find her, but Car would know.”

I called Car and asked for her address. I didn't tell him why I wanted it; uncharacteristically, he didn't ask. Usually, getting information out of him required paying a toll of petty humiliation, but tonight he just said he'd call me back.

The address he wound up giving me was a condo overlooking Buena Vista Park. As we drove into the city Teddy studied the picture of the women with Eric Gainer. Finally he said, “So what's the connection between this picture and Lawrence?”

I hesitated, wondering how much to tell him. “I met with Eric Gainer the other night. He's being blackmailed, according to what he told me. He thinks the person doing it is Dad.”

“And you think that whoever's blackmailing Eric may be the same one who killed Russell, or had him killed?”

“Maybe.” I hesitated. “On the other hand, if Lawrence has been lying to us, then we need to know the truth before we get any deeper in it than we already are.”

Teddy was shaking his head. “You've always thought the worst of him. You've always assumed he was guilty, that he was this contriving manipulator.”

He meant conniving, but it was a close enough miss. I didn't correct him.

Teddy went on. “But I was right about him, wasn't I, Leo? I've always been right about him. Just one time, you might want to think about reserving your judgment.”

I just gave a grunt that might have been agreement and might not, not wanting to fight with him, avoiding the issue as I'd always done, as I'd preferred to do for the last twenty-one years. I was tired of being the one who was always in the wrong.

We parked on the street, went to the front entrance, and buzzed the intercom. “Who is it?” Tanya's voice said from the box. A voice as rough as the streets where she'd once walked nightly, before Teddy had hired her. I prodded him. “It's Teddy,” he said with a husky depth of feeling, making me wonder again at the mystery of him keeping Tanya employed for so many years, giving her so much of himself. Their relationship had ended with the bullet that changed his life. But why it hadn't ended previously, when she'd stolen money from the trust account of Ricky Santorez, Teddy's most feared and dangerous client, I'd never understood.

We took the elevator to the third floor. I expected wariness, hostility, but Tanya embraced Teddy in the hall. She was short, barrel-shaped, and immodest, ugly but appealing in her refusal to acknowledge it. With a reluctant glance at me, she led us into her apartment.

“You've been doing well,” I said, taking in the tasteful décor, the city view.

She gave me a look like she wished she could blink and make me disappear.

“Forget it, Leo,” Teddy told me. Again I was struck by how my brother had changed. When someone had fucked him, the old Teddy never rested until he'd found a way to fuck him back.

I could tell that she also perceived the difference in him. “So what's this?” she said. “He finally lets you see me, but you have to bring him as a chaperone?”

An awkward moment. “Leo never stopped me from seeing you, Tanya.”

She turned to the kitchen, her feelings hurt. “You still drink Manhattans, at least?”

She mixed two of them, adding to each a cherry on a plastic spear. She brought me a beer, like I was a child at the grown-ups' table. But then, for so long, she'd known me only as Teddy's kid brother.

“We're here for me, not him,” I said. “I asked Teddy to come along. But if you two are ready to bury the hatchet, now's fine.”

“I never had any gripe with Teddy.”

I'd told myself I'd keep quiet on the subject of old grudges but couldn't. “You had a gripe with his old client Santorez, though, didn't you? And because Santorez had some money go missing, and because Teddy was the one who was supposed to be holding that money, Santorez had a gripe with Teddy because of you.”

Her mouth barely moved as she spoke. “Santorez made an investment and he's getting a good return.”

“So Santorez owns you.” Santorez was in prison, and he would remain there for the foreseeable future, but this didn't stop him from operating a criminal enterprise. One that evidently included Tanya and her girls.

“No one owns me.”

“A piece of you, then. And in return, you have access to all the muscle you need.”

“I got my own muscles.” Tanya's cell phone rang. “Excuse me.”

She went into the bedroom and closed the door, but not all the way, so that we could hear her end of the conversation. Tanya mentioned an address in the Sunset, a house number, a high price. She'd come a long way from the drug-addicted streetwalkers my brother had once represented.

I glanced at him, trying to gauge his reaction. The old Teddy had thoroughly despised pimps of all shapes and sizes. I wondered what his feelings were now about how Tanya earned her living.

She returned. “A busy night. Now what was it you wanted?”

I'd made a blowup of the picture, blacking out Eric's face. By way of answer I handed it to her. “I need to know if anyone recognizes these girls. I've got a stack of these photos with my contact information. I was hoping you could hand them out.”

“One of these women is dead, isn't she,” Tanya said, and I felt a chill. As she looked at the photo I studied her. I'd seen emotion there only once before, the day Teddy was shot, when she found me covered in his blood. Now for the second time I saw feeling in her eyes. She looked confused. Then her eyes narrowed and her empathy turned to offense. “What's this got to do with me?”

“You're in the business,” I said.

She thrust the photo at me. “You can't blame me. These aren't any of my girls. Even if they were, you can't hold me responsible. I do all I can to keep them safe, but I can't go with them through those doors. They choose this life.”

And you take the profits, I wanted to add. I took the picture back. “It's just that we're up against a dead end. You don't need to get involved. You can just ask your girls to hand out the fliers. Someone recognizes them, they call, or they don't.”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Okay. If she's been in the game, maybe I'll find out. Maybe I'll even find her if she's still around. But I'm doing this on one condition, and that's that you don't go out and try to bother guys who'd as soon leave you with a hole in your head as answer your questions.”

She glanced at Teddy, and her voice softened. “You stay clear of my business, Leo, and I'll stay out of yours.”

Chapter 12

The following Friday, two weeks before my father's trial, we met at Nina's office. Car showed up a little before eight, before Teddy and my father arrived. He was unshaven when I met him in the outer office. “Nothing,” he said. For the first time since I'd known him, his exhaustion made him look middle-aged. “I got nothing.” He was just back from Pelican Bay, where he'd been dispatched to visit Keith Locke.

“He wouldn't see you?”

“He
saw
me,” Car said as we went into the conference room. “He talked to me for a good two hours, kept toying with me like he might give me something if I'd just sit there, listen to him long enough. What did you expect? He's not going to confess to murdering your mom back when he was a teenager, not when he's still got a chance of getting out on parole.”

“And so the family, the parents, we have to go through their lawyer?” Nina asked.

“You can drop subpoenas on them, sure. But they wouldn't talk five years ago, and I wouldn't gamble on it now.”

“Okay,” she said. “Cross Keith Locke off the list.”

“I could have told you that, saved the trip.”

“Fax me your bill. I'll see that it gets submitted with this week's requests for payment.” Irony of ironies, the state that was prosecuting my father was financing his defense.

Car checked the time on his phone. “Much as I'd like to stick around for the meeting, unless you've got any actual investigation for me to do . . .”

“I'll have subpoenas for you to serve on Monday morning,” Nina said, dismissing him. “In the meantime, rest up.”

Half an hour later we met for a long-planned session in the conference room. The four of us—Lawrence, Teddy, Nina, and I—needed to take stock and begin planning for the trial. Dot would not be joining us, Lawrence had announced. The first order of business would be the hearing at which Judge Liu would decide the admissibility of my father's supposed confession.

“I've given some serious thought about how to handle these issues,” Nina said. “Obviously, it would be best if we can prevent the confession from coming in. You've got a right to have the jury determine all the facts, but in my opinion it'd be a disaster if the jury were allowed to hear about Bell's murder and your motive for committing it.”

“So keep it out.”

Nina nodded. “If we mount a vigorous defense at the hearing and prevail, Judge Liu will keep the confession out, which should mean that he dismisses the case. If we lose at the hearing, then our next move would be to file a motion to keep the jury from hearing about Bell's murder or any suggestion that you were behind it. The trouble is, our position on that motion would not be strong. If you, in fact, had had Bell killed to prevent him from testifying, that would be compelling evidence that you'd indeed confessed to him that you murdered your wife.”

My father watched her intently. “So it's all the chips on the table.”

“Exactly. To put it quite simply, we can't afford to lose this hearing.”

“Then let's win,” Lawrence said. “Let's win the whole thing right here.”

“Well, I always love to fight for a fighter. But we've got to be smart. Right now, we have the ability to choose our ground, to define the battle.”

Lawrence frowned. “Now it sounds more like you're telling me to give up without a fight.”

“You have a right to confront the witnesses against you. But it's my judgment that if we allow Detective Shanahan to testify regarding Bell's hearsay statement, and if you waive your right of confrontation, then Liu will likely look favorably on a pretrial motion to prohibit the state from arguing that you were responsible for Bell's death. In fact, I would hope to keep out
any
mention by the state of the reason why Russell Bell isn't available to testify.”

“Except anyone who's read the papers already knows what happened.”

“That can't be helped, but at least this way we can keep it out of the trial.”

“So what you're telling me is you think we should just skip the hearing and go to the main event.”

“That's my advice.”

She hadn't discussed this with me prior to this meeting. At first, I was irritated, despite having agreed at the outset that she wouldn't consult me in matters of trial strategy. But I understood. Like my father, I wanted to take the bold route to victory, yet if we showed our hand at the hearing as we had at the prelim, and if Liu ruled against us, we'd be giving the prosecution crucial days to figure out how to turn our best evidence against us. Preferable to blaming Bell's murder on Eric Gainer was avoiding any mention of the murder at all.

“Advice noted. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my sons.”

She rose. “Take as much time as you need. I'll be in my office.”

When she'd gone, Lawrence frowned. “What do you two think?”

I waited a second for Teddy to speak up. As the oldest, he had the right to speak first. But, when he said nothing, I spoke. “The media's already painted you as guilty of his murder. But the media's not going to be in that jury box.”

“We've got to explain why Bell lied. Isn't that what she said? How are we going to do that?”

I glanced at Teddy. It was an awkward moment, one needing to be handled delicately. But, again, he was no help. I said, “I don't want to put words in Nina's mouth, and she and I haven't talked about this. But I think she must be planning on you testifying.”

Lawrence had been intently listening to me. Now he seemed to be seeking the deeper meaning behind my words.

“Is that so?” he asked.

“You had a number of conversations with Russell Bell. Some of them quite lengthy. The phone records make that clear. The jury's going to be interested to know what the two of you talked about. Bell's dead, so you're the only one able to tell them. The question is, what did you and he talk about?”

He waited for me to go on, but I only returned his look. He glanced at Teddy, who clearly was unable to follow what Lawrence and I were saying between the lines. After a moment our father said, “And it's my decision whether or not to testify. Not Nina's.”

“Right. Alive or dead, Russell Bell is one of the witnesses against you, and unless you waive your right to cross-examine him, they can't use his statement without showing that you had him killed to keep him from testifying. We don't want them doing that, but if you refuse the compromise Nina's recommending, she can't stop you.”

“I'd like to see the look on her face if I say I won't go along. We can still win this whole thing if we win the hearing. Right?”

“Sure. But what Nina pointed out is that if you lose the hearing, we'd be in bad shape. The judge's ruling would allow the DA to talk about Bell's death. And we'll have given them a sneak preview of our evidence. On the other hand, if you waive your right to cross-examine, there doesn't have to be any explanation why Bell isn't available. Shanahan just gets up there and tells the jury what he said.”

Lawrence nodded, but he'd tuned me out. “I want to hear what Teddy thinks.”

Teddy stammered at first, like a swimmer flailing. Then his feet seemed to find solid ground. “Trust the jury. Don't ever put your fate in a judge's hands if you don't have to. That's what I used to tell all my clients. But this judge . . . I'm not so sure. You'd still be in prison now if it weren't for Liu. Most judges wouldn't have granted that petition.”

“Never put your head in the lion's mouth,” I offered. They both stared at me. “It's something Teddy used to say.” I found myself wistful for Teddy's old mastery and grandeur, his self-assurance that only seemed to increase as the odds rose against him, his uncanny ability to always pull a rabbit out of his hat.

I went on hurriedly. “The judge may doubt the prosecution's case, but he's going to let it go to the jury. The point is to keep them from hearing the most damaging allegations against you. I agree with Nina that it would be a disaster if the DA were allowed to argue that you killed Bell to keep him from testifying. The compromise she's suggesting is the only way to avoid that.”

“Okay.” My father nodded. “Let's have a jury trial.”

~ ~ ~

“Your brother and Car are going to have to testify about his investigation into Keith Locke and the shooting,” Nina said. “I'll put the witnesses up, but I may need your help preparing those two. And of course, preparing your father and also Dot, if she ends up having to testify.”

The others had gone. It was now just the two of us, alone with the mountain of work that remained before the case would be ready for trial.

“Fine.” I wasn't sure how much Teddy remembered about the investigation he and Car had launched in preparation for filing Lawrence's habeas brief, or how he'd perform in front of the jury.

She seemed like she was about to say something more, then she shut her mouth with a frown. “This case. I don't feel prepared, or in control.” She lifted her chin. “Your father's determined to go to trial.”

“What's that mean?”

“You've sat in this chair. What if there were an offer on the table? Manslaughter, second-degree murder? A few years, then a shot at parole? He never had a shot at getting out before.”

“For what it's worth, Dot wants him to plead out, if he can get time served. That's why she can't stand to sit through our strategy sessions. She went through all this before, with her son, the one who, when he finally got out of prison, died of an overdose. But I'm telling you there's no way he's going to plead to a homicide.”

“At the beginning they all want to fight the charges. They want their day in court. Ultimately this case will come down to Lawrence's credibility. That means he'll need to testify, and he'll have to be very convincing. Will he be ready?”

“I mentioned it to him.” I locked eyes with Nina. “You're telling me that you'd advise him to plead guilty even if that means going back to prison.”

“He's got Bell's murder hanging over his head in addition to this case,” Nina went on. “But, yes, if there were a deal, I might well advise your father to grab it, depending on the terms. At the moment, we don't know what the terms might be. We haven't asked.”

“I'm not going to help you talk my father into a guilty plea.”

She nodded, her attitude abruptly shifting, treating me now as the son of a client rather than her co-counsel. “No, of course not. Ultimately if there's an offer, your father will have to decide without pressure from you or me. I'm eager to try the case. But I'm not the one who will die in prison if we lose—and neither are you.”

I decided that this comment didn't deserve a response, and kept my mouth shut.

She stood. “I'll be in my office. When you're ready to call it quits, just make sure the street door latches behind you.”