Joe Dillard - 01 - An Innocent Client (8 page)

I laughed. ”Haven’t had the pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about it, though.”

”Doesn’t surprise me. We’ve had several lawyers come and go over the years. A couple of judges, too.”

Which
judges?
I considered asking her, but then I decided I didn’t want to know. Screw them. Before long, I’d be moving on.

”Tell me about your friend.”

”Have you heard they made an arrest in the murder of that pastor from Newport? The one who was stabbed?”

”I think everybody’s heard.”

”She didn’t do it, Mr. Dillard. I’d swear it on a stack of Bibles. I want to hire you to represent her.”

”How do you know she didn’t do it?”

”Because I was
with
her all night. I drove her home from the club after her shift ended. She lives at my place and she never went out. She
couldn’t
have done it. And besides that, she’s the sweetest, kindest little thing you’ll ever meet. She wouldn’t so much as step on a bug, let alone kill a human being.”

Erlene Barlowe had an almost mesmerizing southern drawl and a sweet kind of charm about her. The fact that she was easy to look at, even in those wild clothes, made the conversation even more pleasant. I got the sense a few times that there might be more to Erlene than she wanted me to see, but there was something about her—maybe danger—that held my interest.

After a half hour, I glanced back over my notes.

She said she’d taken Angel Christian, the girl who was arrested, into her home after Angel showed up here on a bus with another girl, a dancer named Julie Hayes, a little over a month ago. She said Angel reminded her of her dead husband’s beautiful young daughter, who’d been killed in a car accident. I got the distinct impression she’d convinced herself that Angel was the reincarnation of the daughter. She said Angel had suffered some serious abuse at home and was a runaway. She mentioned something about Angel’s hands.

I was more than a little concerned about a few things. Erlene told me that she’d initially lied to a TBI agent I knew named Phil Landers. She said Angel Christian wasn’t the girl’s real name. She said the police had obtained a warrant to take a hair sample from Angel, or whatever her name was, and one from Erlene. That meant DNA evidence would probably be involved, and DNA almost always proved to be devastating to defendants. The police obviously had witnesses or some other evidence or they wouldn’t have been able to get the warrants. And she said something about the police searching for a missing Corvette.

But Erlene was adamant about the girl’s innocence, and if she was telling the truth, it certainly didn’t sound like Angel had either the motive or the opportunity to commit a murder. I was tempted, but not so tempted that I was willing to take on a murder case that would probably wind up going to trial. I didn’t want to waste any more of her time, and I didn’t want to just flat-out refuse her, so I decided to set the bar so high she’d either be unable or unwilling to jump it.

”Erlene, do you have any idea how much it would cost you to hire me on a case like this? A first-degree murder. I heard something about the death penalty on the radio, you know. And it’ll most likely go to trial.”

”Mr. Dillard, my husband provided well for me, both while he was alive and after he passed. Money isn’t something I’m concerned about.”

She shouldn’t have said that. The price I had in mind immediately doubled.

”I’m going to be honest with you, ma’am,” I said.

”I’m planning to get out of this business sometime in the next year. If I took on this case, it would mean I might have to stay a lot longer than I want to.”

”Please, Mr. Dillard. I’ll pay you whatever you want. You’re the best lawyer around here. I’ve been hearing about you and reading about you for years.

You’ve even represented some of my girls—just piddly stuff years ago—but they all spoke so highly of you. I wouldn’t want anyone else to defend my sweet little Angel. Why don’t you look at it as your last hurrah? You can go out with a great big bang.”

I took a deep breath. ”You’ve only known this girl a month. Are you telling me you’d be willing to put up a quarter of a million dollars for her defense?”

She didn’t bat an eye. ”Angel didn’t kill anybody, Mr. Dillard. I swear it. I’ll do whatever I have to do.”

”That’s the only way I’ll do it. Two hundred fifty thousand, cash, up front, nonrefundable. And that’s just for me. You’ll also have to pay the expenses.

We’ll need an investigator, and we may need experts.

They’re not cheap.”

”Tell you what, sweetie,” she said, ”why don’t you go down to the jail and meet Angel. When you get finished, you give me a call and I’ll have your money.”

April 26

3:00 p.m.

On the way to the jail, I seriously considered not taking the case. I’d made up my mind to get out, and the time had come. Lilly would be graduating in a month, and I had only a couple cases left. But the money … my God! A quarter of a million?

Would she really pay it? That kind of money would go a long way towards giving Caroline and me some peace of mind, especially with the extra expense of Ma being in the nursing home. Her care was costing me more than a thousand dollars a month. I decided to wait and make up my mind after I talked to the girl.

As soon as the door to the attorneys’ room opened, I realized Erlene Barlowe had been telling the truth about at least one thing. The girl was beautiful. I stood up while two guards held her elbow as she shuffled into the room, shackled at the ankles. They helped her into the chair as though they were seating her for a gourmet dinner and then backed out the door. For a second, I thought they might bow. The door closed, and I sat back down.

”Well, I’ve never seen that before,” I said.

She smiled absently.

”Guards aren’t polite to inmates, male or female.

I’ve never seen a guard help an inmate with a chair.”

Her hair was the color of polished mahogany and flowed like a mountain waterfall from her head to just beneath her shoulders. Her nose was small and thin and turned up slightly. She had almond-shaped eyes that were a rich brown. Her left eyebrow was slightly higher than her right, giving the impression that she was perpetually interested, or maybe perpetually perplexed. Her lips were full and protruded ever so slightly, and even in the standard-issue orange jumpsuit, her body was magnificent.

”My name is Joe Dillard,” I said. ”I’m a lawyer.

Erlene Barlowe asked me to come and talk to you.”

”I’m Angel,” she said. ”Angel Christian.” Her voice was a gentle soprano.

”Do you understand why you’re here, Miss Christian?”

”Yes.” There was a slight pause. ”Murder.”

She put her elbows on the table and began to cry softly. I’d seen hundreds of clients cry, male and female. I’d grown hardened to tears and the accompanying sounds, but the crying of this beautiful young girl touched me. I stood up and knocked on the door.

A guard opened it immediately.

”Do you guys have any tissue around here?” I said.

The guard glanced over my shoulder at Angel and then scowled at me. ”What’d you do to her?”

”Nothing. Do you have any tissue or not?”

”Hang on. I’ll find something.”

He disappeared briefly, returned with a roll of toilet paper, and gave it to me with another scowl. I closed the door and handed the roll to Angel.

”Best we can do, I’m afraid.”

”Thank you,” she said. ”I’m sorry I’m crying.”

”Don’t worry about it. I see it a lot.”

”I can’t believe this,” she said through a sob. ”Do I have to stay here? Can’t I go home to Miss Erlene’s house?”

”I’m sorry; I’m afraid you’re going to be here for a while. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

”Nothing happened.” She sniffled and blew her nose.

”Are you telling me you didn’t have
anything
to do with Reverend Tester’s murder?”

”I didn’t kill him. I didn’t do a thing to him.”

”Did you know him?”

”I never saw him before he came into the club that night. I was waiting tables. I waited on him.”

”Tell me about it.”

She bit her lower lip and gathered herself. ”He ordered a double scotch on the rocks. He started flirting with me right away. A couple of times he yelled all the way across the bar at me, you know, making a scene. Then, as he got drunker, he started quoting the Bible and acting really strange. Every time I got near him, he would try to rub up against me. He finally tried to kiss me and asked me to leave with him. That’s when Miss Erlene and Ronnie came over and asked him to leave.”

”So that’s it? You didn’t see him again after he left, and he was alive and well when he walked out the door?”

”That’s it, I swear. They told him to leave. I didn’t see him again. Then a couple of days later, a bunch of policemen came to Miss Erlene’s house. She told me not to talk to any of them, so I didn’t, but one of them had a piece of paper that said I had to give him some of my hair. They tore Miss Erlene’s house all to pieces. Then they came back this morning and put me in the car and brought me down here.”

As she spoke, something kept nagging at me. It took me a few minutes to realize what it was, and when I did, I could only wonder. Sitting in front of me was one of the most beautiful young women I’d ever seen, with a body so sexy that under normal circumstances I’d have been either aroused or, at the very least, distracted. But despite the incredible packaging, Angel didn’t emit even a whiff of sexuality.

Talking to her was very much like talking to a child.

”Did the police officer ask you any questions when he arrested you?” I said.

”He tried after we got here. He took me into a room like this. But Miss Erlene told me not to say a word to him, so I didn’t. I think that policeman is pretty mad at me.”

Either Angel and Erlene were two of the best liars I’d ever met, or the police had made a monumental blunder. I had no love for Agent Landers—he was a dishonest, womanizing sleaze with the biggest ego I’d ever encountered—but the TBI was known as a top-flight investigative agency. I found it hard to believe they’d arrest someone for first-degree murder unless they had a solid case.

”Have you ever been in any kind of trouble with the law, Miss Christian? Ever been arrested for anything?”

”No.”

”Not even a traffic ticket?”

”I don’t even know how to drive.”

She started sobbing again. She seemed so helpless, so utterly incapable of violence. My heart went out to her, and I kept asking myself why. Why would she murder some stranger? What could possibly have happened that would have turned this young girl into a killer?

As I sat there wondering, she looked over the tissue at me, her eyes shining with tears, and she said,

”Help me, Mr. Dillard. Please, help me.”

Suddenly, the voice I was hearing wasn’t hers. It was a voice from the past, the voice of a defenseless little girl… .
”Get
him
off
of
me,
Joey.
He’s
hurting
me.”

I looked at her and nodded my head.

”Okay, Miss Christian,” I said. ”I’ll help you.

You’ve got yourself a lawyer.”

5:05 p.m.

When I called Erlene Barlowe and told her I was in, she asked me to meet her in the parking lot behind her club. I’d never been in the place, but I’d driven by it dozens of times. I got there a little after five and backed into a spot next to a black BMW. It had been a beautiful afternoon, clear and in the low seventies. The sun was starting to drop in the western sky, but as I looked to the northeast, I could see a massive dark thundercloud rolling across the tops of the mountains. I put the window down and could smell rain.

About five minutes later, I saw Erlene come out of the back door of the club carrying a gym bag. She had changed into a zebra-striped jumpsuit that was so tight I could see every crevice in her body. She walked carefully in her heels across the gravel lot, glancing from left to right, and stopped at the window. She leaned over and dropped the gym bag in my lap.

”Everything all right?” I said. ”You look a little nervous.”

”Those TBI men have been following me around for a week. Makes me kind of jumpy. Your money’s in the bag, sugar. How’s Angel?”

”Scared.”

”Poor thing. I hate the thought of her being locked up in that terrible place. You have to promise me you’ll get her out of this.”

”I’ll do everything I can.”

”It would probably be best if you leave now. You need to get that money someplace safe. We’ll talk more later.”

She blew me a kiss and I pulled out. As I drove down the road, I started thinking about what I was carrying. I’d taken some big cash fees from people accused of dealing drugs in the past, but never anything near a quarter of a million. I kept looking in the rearview mirror to make sure nobody was following me. If Landers had any idea what was going on, it would be just like him to make up a reason to stop me, search my truck, and seize the money.

About a mile from my house, I pulled into the parking lot of a small shopping strip, locked up the truck, and went into a liquor store to buy a bottle of good champagne. I didn’t take my eyes off of the truck the entire time I was in the store. After I finished I drove towards home and pulled onto a dirt road that led into the woods just across the street from my house. I wanted to count the money, and I knew if I pulled in the driveway Rio would make such a racket that Caroline was likely to come out.

With the light just beginning to fade, I started to count—fifty bundles of hundred-dollar bills, fifty in each bundle. It took me almost an hour, and it was all there. I couldn’t believe it. I stuffed the cash in my own gym bag and headed for the house.

I found Caroline in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher. I walked up behind her and kissed her on the ear.

”Hi, baby,” she said. ”Did Rio pee on your shoe?”

”I was too quick for him today.”

”I haven’t heard from you all afternoon. How did it go with Ms. Barlowe?”

Caroline had called, but I hadn’t returned the call.

At first I wasn’t sure I was going to take Angel’s case, and later I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist spilling the beans. I set the bottle of champagne down on the counter.

”Where’s Lilly?” I said.

Caroline looked at me slyly. ”At rehearsal. Mother’s going to pick her up and take her out to eat. She won’t be back for a couple of hours.”

”Sarah?”

”A friend of hers took her to an NA meeting.”

”Good. At least she’s trying.”

Caroline looked over at the champagne. ”What’s the occasion?”

”Let’s go out to the deck. We need to talk.”

”Be there in a second.”

I took a couple of champagne glasses out of the cabinet, opened the bottle, and walked out onto the deck. I put the bottle and glasses on the table and stuck the gym bag underneath. The storm was moving closer and the wind had freshened, but we still had some time. It was just getting dark. The Big Dipper was creeping over the horizon to the northeast.

The moon hadn’t quite cleared the large hill to the northwest, and the reflection of running lights twinkled off the lake like fireflies as pontoon and bass boats made their way up and down the channel.

I lit the two oil lamps that flanked the deck and sat down just as Caroline came out. She sat across from me. I poured the champagne and looked intently at her.

”What?” she said.

”I was just lusting,” I said. ”Can’t help it.”

”I’m sure you can’t.” The dimple high in her right cheek showed only when she smiled a certain way.

She was smiling that way now.

”So it went okay,” I said, ”with Ms. Barlowe.”

”I saw the girl’s picture on television. She sure is pretty.”

”She’s also very nice. And there’s a very strong possibility that she’s innocent. I talked to her today.”

Caroline gasped. ”You
talked
to her? Oh, my God, is that where you’ve been all day? Are you going to represent her?”

”I don’t think I have much choice.”

Caroline’s eyes lit up. I knew exactly what she was thinking.

”How much?” she said.

”What do you think a first-degree murder, maybe a death penalty case, probably my last case, is worth?”

”I don’t
know
.” She took a sip of champagne and leaned forward. ”How much is it worth?”

”Guess.”

”Fifty?”

”Higher.”

”Eeeeeh,” she said. ”Sixty?”

”You’re way low. Jack it on up.”

”Oh, my God, Joe. Seventy-five? No, you look smug. I don’t even know if I can say it. A hundred?”

”You’re almost halfway.”

Her jaw dropped. ”You’re not serious,” she said.

I don’t think she knew it, but she was bouncing in her chair like a schoolgirl.

”Dead serious.”

”T-t-two twenty?”

”Almost there. Add thirty more.”

”Two fifty?” She said the words as though she were dreaming.

”Bingo! And what do we have for the lady who guessed a quarter of a million dollars, Don Pardo?”

I reached down, grabbed the bag, and slammed it on the table. Champagne spewed from Caroline’s mouth.

”Is that what I think it … ? No, it couldn’t possibly . . .” She reached out and opened the bag.

”Joe! Is this real?”

”Scout’s honor,” I said, holding my hand across my heart.

She began jumping around the deck like a cheerleader. She ran around the table and grabbed me by the neck. She hugged me so hard I almost choked.

”Damn, Caroline. Ease up a little. I’d like to live to spend it.”

She stopped in her tracks, walked back to her seat, and took a deep breath.

”I’m going to hyperventilate. I’m going to pee my pants. Tell me how this happened.”

”There isn’t that much to tell. The woman came in and I talked to her for a while, and then I went down to the jail and talked to the girl for a while. I actually said the words, Caroline. I actually said, ‘A quarter of a million dollars, cash, up front,’ and she didn’t flinch.

I called her after I went to the jail and she paid me.”

”I want to kiss your whole face right now,” Caroline said. ”I want to gobble you up. I want to have your babies.”

”We’ve got enough babies.”

”Oh, Joe, this is unbelievable. This takes so much pressure off of us.”

”It’s a double-edged sword. You know that.”

She was on me before I got the last syllable out of my mouth. She kissed my forehead, my lips, my eyebrows, my ears.

”I have to tell someone,” she said when she stopped kissing my whole face. ”Where’s the phone?

I have to tell my mother.”

”Don’t do that. You’ll be on the phone for an hour.

Drink your champagne and let’s just enjoy it for a minute. I have a feeling I’m going to earn every dime of it.”

I watched her as she sat grinning in the flickering light of the lamps. She peeked into the bag again.

”Can I touch it?”

”Knock yourself out. It’s your money now.”

She was as pleased as I’d ever seen her, and nothing could have given me more satisfaction.

”My God, Joe, what a relief. Now … what are we going to buy?”

”What are you talking about? You’re supposed to be the miser. We’re not buying anything. We have everything we need.”

”Let’s splurge just a little. We have to buy something.”

”No, we don’t.”

”Yes, we do.” Her eyes were bright with mischief.

”Then we have to go somewhere.”

”No.”

”We have to go to the Caymans or something when the trial’s over. You’ve always wanted to go there. Stop being such a killjoy.”

”Why don’t we worry about what we’re going to do with it tonight?”

”I know exactly what we’re going to do with it.

We’re sleeping with it. It doesn’t leave my sight until I get it in the safety deposit box tomorrow morning.

Then I’ll figure out what to do from there. Tell me about the girl. What’s she like?”

”She’s … sweet,” I said. ”She seems like a really sweet kid.”

”Is she as pretty as me?”

”Not even close.”

”Good answer.”

She held out her empty champagne glass, and I refilled it. She raised the glass.

”Here’s to pretty girls with rich friends.”

”Cheers.” I took a big swallow of the champagne.

”When’s the arraignment?”

”Monday. Nine o’clock in Jonesborough. Let’s talk about something else. It’s a beautiful evening. I’m sitting on a candlelit deck overlooking the water with a beautiful, slightly intoxicated woman. I’ve just made more money in one day than most people make in five years. Law and disorder and murder do not seem to be appropriate topics of conversation.”

”You’re right.” Caroline rose from the table and reached for my hand. ”Come with me.”

She led me inside to the bedroom.

”This is heavy,” she said, nodding toward the bag in her hand. ”Delightfully heavy.”

She tossed the bag of money into a corner, pushed me onto the bed, and began to slowly unbutton her blouse. Caroline is the only woman I’ve ever slept with. We’ve been together for so long that when it comes to making love, she knows exactly which buttons to push.

And for the next hour, she pushed every one of them.

April 27

6:00 p.m.

Agent Landers ran three miles a day, at least five days a week. It kept his body tight and helped with the hangovers. The day after he arrested the girl, he was running along Watauga Avenue in Johnson City, thinking he would’ve much rather fucked that kid than arrested her. Damn, she was hot.

She was also smart enough not to talk. Landers spent an hour in the interrogation room with her after he arrested her. All she’d say was that she wanted to talk to a lawyer.

Deacon Baker, the district attorney, had called Landers down to his office a couple of days before the arrest. Baker was nothing but a fat, stupid little prude, but he’d somehow managed to get himself elected, so he was calling the shots. Deacon told Landers he was getting a lot of pressure to make an arrest. The victim’s son was a chaplain and deputy sheriff in another county and he’d been calling three times a day. The victim also had a cousin who lived in Carter County and was active in the Republican women’s group over there, and she’d been calling.

Big fucking deal, Landers told Deacon. Let them call.

Landers didn’t have much evidence. The night they raided the Mouse’s Tail, they’d interviewed forty people. Nine of them were employees; the rest were customers. Only one person said she recognized Tester, a stripper named Julie Hayes. She said Tester came in around nine, stayed until almost midnight, and got shit-faced in between. She said he was quoting Scripture one minute and getting lap dances the next, and that he took a special interest in a waitress named Angel Christian. Hayes said the preacher and Erlene Barlowe had about a five-minute conversation around eleven thirty. As soon as they were done talking, she said the preacher went out the front door and Barlowe and Angel went out the back. Neither of them came back to the club that night. She also said that up until the day the preacher was murdered, Barlowe drove a red Corvette. The next day, she was driving the black BMW.

Nobody else in the place gave them anything they could use, which made Landers wonder whether Julie Hayes was telling the truth. Maybe she had some kind of grudge against Barlowe, or the girl, or both. But Landers wrote out her statement and she signed it. She said she was willing to testify.

The forensics team found some hair on Tester’s shirt, so Landers took the Hayes girl’s statement and parlayed it into a search warrant for Erlene Barlowe’s house the next day. He also persuaded the judge to sign an order saying that both Erlene Barlowe and Angel Christian had to give him hair samples. They hadn’t found a goddamned thing in Barlowe’s house, not even so much as a porn video. Landers took a photograph of the girl, though. She had a nasty bruise on her face.

There was no sign of a red Corvette. Landers ran Erlene Barlowe’s name through every database the TBI had. No Corvette registered to her anywhere.

He got a call from the lab a few days later. Two hairs that were found on Tester’s shirt matched the girl. That was the best evidence they had, and as far as Landers was concerned, it wasn’t much. The lab also said the preacher had a date rape drug in his system—GHB, otherwise known as Georgia Home Boy. Whoever killed him drugged him. Everybody knows you can get drugs at a strip bar, but Landers couldn’t prove the drug in the preacher’s body came from the Mouse’s Tail.

So when he went down to the DA’s office, Landers laid the case out for Deacon Baker. Two witnesses: the stripper who might have a grudge, and a clerk from the motel who saw a Corvette pull in behind Tester around midnight and
thought
she saw a woman go up the stairs towards Tester’s room. All the other employees at the club denied Tester was there, or at least said they didn’t notice him, but he’d definitely withdrawn money from an ATM at the bar just after eleven thirty. Erlene Barlowe had lied—

Landers was sure about that—and the others were probably lying. He had a DNA match from the Christian girl, a nasty bruise on her face, a shriveled penis (the medical examiner said it had been removed postmortem), no murder weapon, and a missing car. That was it. Oh, yeah, they also had a gem of a victim.