Scott Pratt - An Innocent Client

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 genuinely intrigued me.

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 named Phil Landers. I knew Landers, and I didn’t care for him at all. 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 think of 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, non-refundable. 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 only had a couple cases left. But the money… wow! A quarter of a million? Would she really pay it? That kind of money would go a long way toward giving Caroline and me some peace of mind. I decided to wait and make up my mind after I talked to the girl.

As soon as the door to the attorney’s 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, then backed out the door. For a second, I thought they might bow. The door closed, and I sat back down.

“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, I could see that 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, then scowled at me. “What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing. Do you have 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?”