Philip Margolin - Gone ,but not forgotten

"Evidence of what?" Darius demanded. "They refuse to tell me what they're looking for."

"Martin," the woman in black said, laying a hand on his forearm, "let them search. Please. I want them out of here, and they're not going to leave until they're through."

Darius pulled his arm away. "Search the damn house," he told Barrow angrily, "but you'd better get yourself a good lawyer, because I'm going to sue your ass all over this state."

Detective Barrow walked away, the insults bouncing ineffectively off his broad back. just as he reached the steps leading out of the living room, a gray-haired man in a windbreaker entered the house.

"The tread on the BMW matches and there's a black Ferrari in the garage," Betsy heard him say. Barrow motioned to two uniforms who were standing in the entryway. They followed him back to Darius.

"Mr. Darius, I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Wendy Reiser, Laura Farrar and Victoria Miller."

The color drained from Darius's face and the woman's hand flew to her mouth, as if she was going to be sick.

"You have the right to remain silent Barrow said, reading from a laminated card he had taken from his wallet.

"What the fuck is this?" Darius exploded.

"What is he talking about?" the woman asked Betsy.

"I have to inform you of these rights, Mr. Darius."

"I think we're entitled to an explanation, Detective Barrow," Betsy said.

"No, ma'am, you're not," Barrow responded. Then he finished reading Darius his Miranda rights.

"Now, Mr. Darius," Barrow went on, "I'm going to have to handcuff you.

This is procedure. We do it with everyone we arrest."

"You're not handcuffing anyone," Darius said, taking a step back.

"Mr. Darius, don't resist," Betsy said. "You can't do that, even if the arrest is illegal. Go with him. just don't say a thing.

"Detective Barrow, I want to accompany Mr. Darius to the station."

"That won't be possible. I assume you don't want him questioned, so we'll book him in as soon as we get downtown. I wouldn't go down to the jail until tomorrow morning. I can't guarantee when he'll finish the booking process.

"What's my bail?" Darius demanded.

"There isn't any for murder, Mr. Darius," Barrow answered calmly. "Ms.

Tannenbaum can ask for a bail hearing."

"What's he saying?" the woman asked in disbelief "May I talk with Mr.

Darius for a moment in private?" Betsy asked.

Barrow nodded. "You can go over there," he said, pointing to a corner of the living room away from the windows. Betsy led Darius to the corner.

The woman tried to follow, but Barrow told her she could not join them.

"What's this about no bail? I'm not sitting in some jail with a bunch of drug dealers and pimps."

"There's no automatic bail for murder or treason, Mr. Darius. It's in the Constitution. But there is a way to get a judge to set bail. I'll schedule a bail hearing as soon as possible and I'll see you first thing in the morning."

"I don't believe this."

"Believe it and listen to me. Anything you tell anyone will be used to convict you. I don't want you talking to a soul. Not the cops, not a cell mate. No one. There are snitches at the jail who'll trade you to beat their case and every guard will repeat every word you say to the da."

"Goddamn it, Tannenbaum. You get me out of this fast. I paid you to protect me. I'm not going to rot in jail."

Betsy saw Detective Barrow motion the two officers toward them.

"Remember, not a word," she said as Barrow reached them.

"Hands behind you, please," said one of the uniforms. Darius complied and the officer snapped on the Cuffs. The woman watched in wide-eyed disbelief "I'll expect you first thing in the morning," Darius said as they led him away.

"I'll be there."

Betsy felt a hand on her arm.

"Mrs. Tannenbaum… "It's Betsy."

"I'm Martin's wife, Lisa. What's happening? Why are they taking Martin away?"

Lisa Darius looked bewildered, but Betsy did not see any tears. She seemed more like a hostess whose party has been a stunning flop, than a wife whose husband had just been arrested for mass murder.

"You know as much as I do, Lisa. Did the police mention anything about why they were at your home?"

"They said… I can't believe what they said. They asked us about the three women who were found at Martin's construction site."

"That's right," Betsy said, suddenly remembering why the names Barrow had spoken sounded so familiar.

"Martin couldn't have had anything to do with that.

We know the Millers. They were out on our yacht this summer. This has to be a mistake."

"Mrs. Darius, Betsy and Lisa Darius looked toward the living room stairs. A black detective dressed in jeans and a black and red Portland Trail Blazers jacket was walking toward them.

"We're going to seize your BMW. May I have your key, please?" he asked politely, handing her a yellow carbon of a property receipt.

"Our car? Can they do this?" LISA asked Betsy.

"The warrant mentioned cars."

"Oh, God. Where will this end?"

"I'm afraid my men are going to have to search your house," the detective told her apologetically. "We'll try to be neat and put everything back that we don't take. If you like, you can come along with us."

"I can't. just be quick, please. I want you out of my house."

The detective was embarrassed. He looked down at the carpet as he walked off. Barrow had taken his raincoat with him, but there was a damp spot on the sofa where it had lain. Lisa Darius looked at the spot with distaste and sat as far from it as she could. Betsy sat next to her.

"How long is Martin going to be in jail?"

"That depends. The State has the burden of convincing the court that it's got a damn good case, if it wants to hold Martin without bail. I'll ask for an immediate hearing. If the State can't meet its burden, he'll be out quickly. If they meet it, he won't get out at all, unless we get a not guilty verdict."

"This is unbelievable." any idea something like this might happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's been my experience that the police usually don't act unless they have a pretty good case. They make mistakes, of course, but that's rarer than you'd think from the way they're portrayed on television. And your husband's no street punk. I can't imagine Alan Page rousting someone of Martin's stature in the community without some pretty strong evidence.

Especially on a charge like this."

Lisa stared openmouthed at Betsy for a moment.

"Are you suggesting…? I thought you were Martin's lawyer. If you don't believe him, you have no business handling his case. I don't know why he hired you, anyway. Daddy says Oscar Montoya and Matthew Reynolds are the best criminal lawyers in Oregon. He could have had either one of them."

"A lawyer who only thinks what her client wants her to think isn't doing her job," Betsy said calmly. "If there's something you know about these charges, I have to know it, so I can defend Martin properly."

"well, there isn't," Lisa answered, looking away from Betsy. "The whole thing is outrageous."

Betsy decided not to push. "Do you have anyone who can stay with you?" she asked.

"I'll be fine by myself "

"This will get rough, Lisa. The press will be hounding you night and day, and living in a spotlight is much worse than most people imagine.

Do you have an answering machine you can use to screen your calls?"

Lisa nodded.

"Good. Put it on and don't take any calls from the media. Since we don't have any idea of the case against Martin, we don't know what can hurt him. For instance, where Martin was on a certain date might be crucial.

If you tell the press he wasn't with you on that date, it could destroy an alibi. So don't say anything. If a reporter does get through to you, refer her to me. And never talk to the police or someone from the da's office. There's a privilege for husband-wife communications and you have a right to refuse to talk to anyone. Do you understand?"