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“I know she’s the murderer.”
“She didn’t confess though, did she?”
“No. She’s too smart for that.”
“We can’t connect her to Pete. Or the murder scene. Or the gun—”
“I think we can connect her to the gun.”
I explained to her about Andy Showalter’s drawings. She was thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “His mother will testify that the drawings were done by her son and to the time period in which they were created?”
“Yes.”
“If we can prove that Andy Showalter perjured himself and that his testimony was key to Larry’s conviction, then we might get him a new trial.”
“So you’ll take the case?”
Instead of answering, she called out, “Karen!” It took only a moment for Karen to be in the doorway. “Karen, could you find someplace to copy these sketches. There must be places that do that, right?”
“I have a friend who works for an architect, she’ll know.”
“Dom, let Mrs. Showalter know that we can’t give these back to her. We’re going to need to give them to the DA handling this and get them into evidence. Karen, call their office in Downey, find out if the original prosecutor is still working and if not, who do they want to deal with the Larry Wilkes case.”
Back to me, “Did you tell me you got the transcripts?”
“I did.”
“Okay. Karen, I’m going to need two more copies of the transcripts, one for me, one for you. No. Make that three. One for Edwin. He’s going to think I’m out of my mind. This guy might be out of prison before we can get to trial.”
“Compensation for twenty-five years in prison,” I said.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring that up. Okay, let’s get started.”
I got up and walked out of the office. As I passed Karen, I said, “I’ll start copying the transcripts. You focus on the other stuff.”
“Thanks.”
Our copy machine was an actual Xerox, which was about the best thing you could say about it. It was nearly a decade old and was a cast-off from a law firm in downtown LA, which meant it got a lot of use in that first decade. It sat in the back room opposite my makeshift desk and next to the coffee station.
The old workhorse broke frequently, and Karen was on a first-name basis with all the repair guys. She’d also learned enough about the machine that she’d started taking a chance on fixing it herself before she called them. She took care of the problem about fifty percent of the time.
I have to say I was pretty happy. We were taking the case, so I didn’t have to feel bad about how things had worked out for Larry Wilkes. Even if we weren’t able to get him out of prison before his sentence was up, the money would help him hold onto his greedy boyfriend Bryson. He’d be better off without him, but that wasn’t my decision to make.
And then I realized,wewouldn’t be taking the case. Lydia was taking the case and I would be taking a powder. This was really the last thing that had been keeping me from leaving. My happiness began to crumble. Don’t think about it, I told myself. Just do it.
I’d brought the box full of Larry’s transcript over to the Xerox and, after filling the copier with paper, began putting the transcripts into the machine about twenty pages at a time. It was supposed to be able to do more than that, but we found that it would jam if we didn’t go slowly. So, we went slowly.
I’d refilled the paper trays twice when I heard the bell at the front go off. Someone had come in. At that time in the morning, it was frequently the FedEx guy. Sometimes it was a courier, but they showed up on and off all day long. Occasionally people dropped in to talk about their incarcerated—
Karen let out a little scream, which was odd. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl—had she won the lotto? No, no, it wasn’t that kind of scream. A moment later, I heard Lydia say in a clear, loud voice, “Stu, put the knife down.”
I moved away from the copy machine and took two steps toward the front. Then I stopped. What did I think I’d be able to do? Stu had a knife; I had nothing. I turned and quietly walked out of the building. Once in the alley, I bolted down to the street, then around the corner to the rental car. I unlocked the driver’s door, reached under the front seat, and pulled out the Beretta. Clicking off the safety, I ran back down the alley to The Freedom Agenda.
I slipped back into the building as quietly as possible. Creeping across the room, I could hear Lydia telling Stu, “You really need to think about what you’re doing. You haven’t done anything yet. What you’re doing to Karen is assault, but if you stop now, if you stop hurting her, we can get that taken down to a misdemeanor.”
“I thought you weren’t my attorney anymore.”
“You’re right. I’m not. But I can get you someone. Someone good.”
