Motion to Suppress (21 page)

She listened to everything he said, sipping her soda.

"Did you talk with Nina ... my attorney, about this?" she said.

"Your parents asked that I wait, for now. They wanted to keep my opinion confidential, until a decision was made, and I respected that."

"Is that the way it is usually done?"

He didn’t answer. They sat there. She could see the dirt ski trails at Heavenly out his window. She liked Nina’s view of the lake better.

"Loyalty is all very well," Riesner said finally, "but you have to look out for yourself. Your lawyer is going to defend you right into the penitentiary."

"One thing I’m curious about, Mr. Riesner, is, how do you know all these things about my case? And why are you so interested?"

"The details I’ve just mentioned to you are all over town," Riesner said. "I hear things at the courthouse, at lunch, playing poker. I heard some things from your parents. Have I said anything inaccurate?"

"Not exactly."

"Why am I interested? Because I hate to see a case like this mishandled, Misty—"

"Michelle."

"It reflects badly on the criminal lawyers up here who are doing a good job for their clients."

"The thing is, I want a trial," Michelle said. "We’re still investigating. I know how it sounds, when I told Dr. Cervenka under hypnosis I killed Anthony—"

"Precisely. I know half the cops in Tahoe. I know you confessed. That’s just my point. Nina Reilly is gonna let you do anything you want. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know how dangerous it is. It doesn’t matter that you’re gonna get crushed by Collier Hallowell in a trial. All that matters to her is to grandstand, pick up some publicity, pick up some new clients—"

"You’re wrong. She cares about what happens to me," Michelle said. "You don’t."

"I know I won’t be the only one to remind you what’s at stake," Riesner said. "This isn’t a decision to make based on how you feel about somebody. You like her, she’s nice to you, she makes you feel good. So invite her over to dinner. But I’d be goddamned before I’d hire her to defend me on a murder charge."

Michelle got up to leave. "I’m not you," she said, unable to think of anything better.

"If you ever figure out which end is up, call me."

Out in the parking lot, Michelle moved her suitcases from the backseat into the trunk of the car, dawdling, not quite ready to drive away. Jeffrey Riesner made perfect sense, from a logical point of view. If the world really had been a logical place, she would have hired him. He could probably get the deal back, just like he said.

But what could you trust if you couldn’t trust the way you felt about someone?

First off, if she hired Riesner, the baby would definitely be born in prison.

Second, it didn’t matter what she’d said to Dr. Cervenka. She was mixed-up inside. She didn’t believe herself Period.

Third. Nina listened to her, and Jeffrey Riesner would not.

Okay, following her feelings had gotten her in trouble before, mostly with men, but Dr. Greenspan used to say that if you went down deep enough, that’s where you could find the truth, and down to gut level she trusted Nina Reilly. Nina made a mistake and she would fix it somehow.

Wishing she could afford to skip her next chore, she drove off to Prize’s to pick up her paycheck.

She didn’t want to make the rounds and say good-bye, but she couldn’t avoid it. She had to walk through the casino to get to the bookkeeping office. She hadn’t been back since her arrest, but people all seemed happy to see her, and said encouraging things as she cleared out her locker. She couldn’t help wondering what they would say when she was gone.

She passed the gift shop on her way out, the very same gift shop where she had picked out the polar bear a lifetime ago, a little gift from Steve, and far too expensive for her to explain to Anthony. She had told him it was a cheap imitation, and he believed it because he avoided shopping and didn’t know better. She had lied to him about everything, hadn’t she? While she was caught in the web of that thought, Steve Rossmoor came hurrying up, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers.

"I didn’t want to miss you," he said. "I asked the clerk to give me a buzz if you came in."

"Well, here I am."

"Look, after we talked on the phone, and you couldn’t see me, you said you would call. You didn’t return my calls to your lawyer; you left your house.... I’ve been worried. Oh. For you."

She took the bundle of flowers, all you could hold, purchased from the florist kiosk three doors down the hallway. "Thank you," she said. He took her elbow and steered her into the ice-cream parlor just past the gift shop.

"How about a cup of coffee?"

"Actually, a dish of strawberry ice cream sounds good."

He ordered two dishes. Then he tilted his head to the side, regarding her. "You’re as lovely as always, but different," he said.

"I’m not blitzed," Michelle said. "And I’ve got my clothes on."

"I could say the same," Steve said. "How have you been?"

She shook her head. "Don’t get me started. But I am glad you caught me before I left for Fresno. I wanted to say something to you, but I didn’t know how, and there was so much else going on...."

"Well, let’s just eat ice cream, and maybe it’ll come out naturally."

After a few bites, Michelle said, "I think what I want to say first is, I apologize."

"For what?"

"For being so afraid of you I slept with you so I wouldn’t have to talk to you."

Steve Rossmoor sat back and looked at her.

"It’s a bad habit of mine. I know you tried to make friends with me, but I couldn’t understand why you would want to. So I-what’s the word?—deflected you."

"I certainly enjoyed being deflected, if that’s what it was. And it didn’t work, because I still would like to know you better. "

"Why?"

He took her hand in his. "Now you put me on the spot. I’ll sound incredibly stupid, but let me just try to answer that question. Okay. Because I got hooked on watching you through the security mirrors. I liked watching you walk, and talk, and smile when you collected your tips. I got to meet you, and I liked your soft voice and the things you said. I got you into my bed, and we were good together, and I knew there was more, a lot more, inside your head I needed to find out about. And then all hell broke loose for you."

"Oh," Michelle said.

"And now you’re leaving for Fresno. I have the worst timing in the world."

"Don’t you feel a little bit worried about getting to know a girl who—"

"Not a bit. You forget, I knew Anthony: I watched him watching you, nights you were on shift together. I know things about Anthony you don’t know. Someday you can tell me how you ever had the misfortune to marry him."

"That’s not what I mean. I’m probably going to prison!"

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that one.

Michelle looked at the young man opposite her at the rickety little iron table, licking his spoon.

"Steve ..."

"Mmm-hmmm."

"Did you tell anyone I was going to San Francisco, that day we talked?"

"Of course not. Why?"

"Never mind. I guess I better tell you something."

"Anything."

"I’m going to have a baby. It’s possible—"

But he was already rushing around the table. He pulled her up against him, her head against his chest, his heart beating fast. "Yes ... it’s possible you are the father," she finished breathlessly. He just held on to her, as though he would fall down himself if she were not now propping him up.

"How possible?" he said in a strangled voice.

"It could have been Anthony. Or one other guy. Or you."

"You weren’t going to tell me?"

"It’s so complicated. I really don’t know what to say about it right now. We’re sitting here eating ice cream and talking about making friends and then it’s bombs away. Now we can’t just be friends, can we?"

"I’m floored," Steve said. He loosened his hold on her, but touched her shoulders gently at arm’s length.

"What if the baby isn’t yours, for instance? Do you still want to get to know me better?" Michelle said. She looked searchingly into his eyes, and saw in them something she didn’t understand, something dark. "I’m going to keep the baby," she went on.

"Don’t go," he said. "Stay here with me. If you’re sentenced to prison, we’ll fly away somewhere and live happily ever after."

"My prince," she said, making fun of him, but liking what he had said. "Thanks. Really, thanks. But I have to go."

"Then let me see you in Fresno this weekend."

"Maybe. Here’s my number and the address."

He walked her out to her car. Before he would let her shut the door, he picked up her hand and lowered his head and she felt his lips pressing against her palm. Then he closed her hand on the kiss and said, "Don’t forget to wear your seat belt." She set the flowers on the passenger seat and headed for Fresno, watching Steve Rossmoor standing in the parking lot in the rearview mirror, looking like any man in a really expensive suit, a man used to getting his own way.

The Superior Court of the County of El Dorado, Tahoe Session, Curtis E. Milne presiding, heard law and motion on Monday morning, June 11, at 8:30 A.M. Collier Hallowell’s hair was still wet from the shower.

"Motion to Suppress Tape Recording and for Disclosure of Confidential Informant," the judge said. He scanned papers as he spoke, peering down through reading glasses perched on his nose. He had the classic build of male judges; huge, leonine head, heavy brow ridge, puny body under the robes. Having already disposed of six other matters, he spoke to an almost empty courtroom. "People versus Michelle Tengstedt Patterson. I will hear the Motion to Suppress first."

"Nina Reilly, counsel for defendant. Good morning, Your Honor. We are relying on our declarations and we do not request an in camera evidentiary hearing. It is our understanding that the Court and both sides have heard the tape in question."

"Yes. You may proceed," Milne said calmly.

"As the Court can see from the declarations of Dr. Bruno Cervenka and myself, Dr. Cervenka was retained by me in a consulting capacity."

Milne broke in almost immediately. "No privilege there, Ms. Reilly. The work-product privilege clearly doesn’t apply. The tape is evidence. Frankly, I see no basis for excluding the purported confession of your client. Your consultant ended up treating her. It’s obvious from the People’s Points and Authorities the session went beyond an examination. There’s no question the evidence sought to be excluded is relevant. It’s a confession. There’s no question, despite the legal arguments attached to your Motion to Suppress, that the evidence falls within a well-recognized exception to the attorney work-product privilege. Anything else?"

"The psychotherapist-patient privilege also requires confidentiality. As stated in our brief—"

"Make up your mind, Ms. Reilly. Was Dr. Cervenka acting in a consulting capacity, or was he acting as a therapist?"

"For purposes of this particular argument he was a therapist," Nina said, not showing her anger. Judge Milne knew she had the right to argue in the alternative, to make arguments that were inconsistent.

"So he’s a therapist now. What do you have to say about Mr. Hallowell’s well-taken point that there will be no such privilege if you put your client’s mental state in issue?"

"We haven’t done that yet, Your Honor."

"Well, are you going to?"

Nina maintained her usual pleasant face. "As the Court knows, I am not required to reveal my entire trial strategy to Mr. Hallowell at this time."

Milne apparently decided not to bait her anymore.

"All right. Let’s talk about the attorney-client privilege argument. You seem to be saying that Dr. Cervenka was merely a kind of translator for you. He elicited for you the language of the heart, so to speak, that the defendant could speak only while hypnotized."

"That’s right. My client wasn’t consciously aware at the time. I wasn’t competent to access her buried memories. I turned to a psychiatrist. But the information was intended as a communication to me, for purposes of preparing the criminal defense."

"Mr. Hallowell?" Milne said, finally giving her a moment to breathe.

"It’s simple," Collier said. He had been listening attentively. "You can make all the convoluted arguments you want, Judge, but that tape is evidence. The prosecution can’t be foreclosed from using it if counsel for the defense tries to explain why the defendant struck her husband and claims not to remember what happened next. We all agree Dr. Cervenka was trying to help the defendant remember some things. He wasn’t a translator, he was a therapist helping a patient. It wasn’t a communication, it was a therapy session."

Nina said evenly, "I hired Dr. Cervenka. I set up the meeting. I drove the defendant to the meeting. Attorney-client privilege, Your Honor."

"Converted into a therapeutic session, Judge," Collier said.

"We’re starting to repeat ourselves," Judge Milne said, turning his head to the calendar tacked to the wall. "I’ll take it under submission. I’ll try to let you know within ten days. I see we need to set a trial date. Shall we take care of that today? September twenty-fourth? Ms. Reilly?"

"Fine, Your Honor."

"Mr. Hallowell?"

"Okay by me."

"Anything else?"

"The defense requests that the Court order the district attorney’s office to reveal the source of its information leading to seizure of the tape."

Hallowell said, "Excuse me, Your Honor."

"Go ahead."

"The district attorney’s office has promised to keep the name of the person providing this information confidential. That person’s identity is of no relevance to the question of whether the confession should come in."

"We need to know who is so interested in getting the defendant convicted, Your Honor. The defense contends the confession under hypnosis is completely unreliable as evidence. The plea is not guilty. That information might lead to important admissible evidence," Nina said.

"I’m afraid the word might is the operative word in your argument, Counselor. Conjecture and speculation of this sort is not sufficient to persuade me that I must compel the deputy district attorney to disclose his source. The motion that the prosecution divulge its source of information is denied. Anything further?"