Philip Margolin - Gone ,but not forgotten

"Let me help you with the dishes," Rita said. They had left them — after dinner, so they could watch one of Kathy's favorite television shows with her, before Betsy put her to bed.

"Before I forget," Betsy said as she piled up the bread plates, "a woman named Nora Sloane may call you.

I gave her your number. She's the one who's writing the article for Pacific West."

"oh?"

"She wants to interview you and Kathy for background."

"Interview me?" Rita preened.

"Yeah, Mom. It's your chance at immortality."

"You're my immortality, honey, but I'm available if she calls," Rita said. "Who better to give her the inside story than your mother?"

"That's what I'm — afraid of."

Betsy rinsed the plates and cups and Rita put them in the dishwasher.

"Do you have some time before you go home? I want to ask you about something."

"Sure.

"You want coffee or tea?"

"Coffee will be fine."

Betsy poured two cups and they carried them into the living room.

"It's the Darius case," Betsy said. "I don't know what to do. I keep on thinking about those women, what they went through. What if he killed them, Mom?"

"Aren't you — always telling me that your client's guilt or innocence doesn't matter? You're his lawyer."

"I know. And that is what I — always say. And I believe it. Plus I'm going to need the money I'm making on the case, if Rick and I… if we divorce. And the prestige.

Even if I lose, I'll still be known as Martin Darius's attorney. This case is putting me in the major leagues. If I dropped out, I'd get a reputation as someone who couldn't handle the pressure of a big case."

"But you're worried about getting him off?"

"That's it, Mom. I know I can get him off. Page doesn't have the goods. judge Norwood told him as much at the bail hearing. But I know things Page doesn't and I…"

Betsy shook her head. She was visibly shaken.

"Someone is going to represent Martin Darius," Rita said calmly. "If you don't do it, another lawyer will. I listen to what you say about giving everyone, even killers and drug pushers, a fair trial. It's hard for me to accept. A man who would do that to a woman. To anyone. You want to spit on them. But you aren't defending that person.

Isn't that what you tell me? You're serving a good system.

"That's the theory, but what if you feel sick inside?

What if you can't sleep because you know you're going to free someone who… Mom, he did this same thing in Hunter's Point. I'm certain of it. And, if I get him off, who's next? I keep thinking about what those women went through. Alone, helpless, stripped of their dignity."

Rita reached across the space between them and took her daughter's hand.

"I'm so proud of what you've done with your life.

When I was a girl I never thought about being a lawyer.

That's an important job. You're important. You do important things.

Things other people don't have the courage to do. But there's a price.

Do you think the President sleeps well? And judges? Generals? So, you're finding out about the bad side of responsibility. With those battered women, it was easy. You were on God's side. Now, God is against you. But you have to do your job even if you suffer. You have to stick with it and not take the easy way out."

Suddenly Betsy was crying. Rita moved over and threw her arms around her daughter.

"I'm a mess, Mom. I loved Rick so much. I gave him everything and he walked out on me. If he was here to help me… I can't do it alone."

"Yes, you can. You're strong. No one could do what you've done without being strong."

"Why don't I see it that way? I feel empty, used up."

"it's hard to see yourself the way others see you. You know you're not perfect, so you emphasize your weaknesses. But you've got plenty of strengths, believe me."

Rita paused. She looked distant for a moment, then she looked at Betsy.

"I'm going to tell you something no other living soul knows. The night your father passed away, I almost took my own life."

"mom!"

"I sat in our bedroom, after you were asleep, and I took out pills from our bathroom cabinet. I must have looked at those pills for an hour, but I couldn't do it. You wouldn't let me. The thought of you. How I would miss seeing you grow up. How I would never know what you did with your life. Not taking those pills was the smartest thing I ever did, because I got to see you the way you are now. And I am so proud of you."

"What if I'm not proud of myself? What if I'm only in this for the money or the reputation? What if I'm helping a man who is truly evil to escape punishment, so he can be free to cause unbearable pain and suffering to other innocent people?"

"I don't know what to say to you," Rita answered. "I don't know — all the facts, so I can't put myself in your place. But I trust you and I know you'll do the right thing."

Betsy wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry I laid this on you, but you're the only one I can let my hair down with now that Rick's walked out."

"I'm glad to know I'm good for something." Rita smiled back. Betsy hugged her. It had been good to cry, it had been good to talk out what she had been holding inside, but Betsy didn't feel she was any closer to an answer.

On Sunday afternoon Raymond Colby stood in front of the fireplace in his den waiting for the lawyer from Portland to arrive. A servant had built a fire. Colby held his hands out to catch the heat and dispel a chill that had very little to do with the icy rain that was keeping his neighbors off the streets of Georgetown.

The front door opened and closed. That would be Wayne Turner with Betsy Tannenbaum. Colby straightened his suit coat. What did Tannenbaum want?

That was really the question. Was she someone with whom he could reason?

Did she have a price? Turner didn't think Lake's attorney knew everything, but she knew enough to ruin his chance of being confirmed.

Perhaps she would come over to their side once she knew the facts. After all, going public would not only destroy Raymond Colby, it would destroy her client.

The door to the den opened and Wayne Turner stood aside. Colby sized up his visitors Betsy Tannenbaum was attractive, but Colby could see she was not a woman who traded on her looks. She was dressed in a severe black suit with a cream-colored blouse. All business, a little nervous, he guessed, feeling somewhat out of her league, yet willing to confront a powerful man on his own turf.

Colby smiled and held out his hand. Her handshake was firm. She was not afraid to look Colby in the eye or to look him over much the way he had scrutinized her.

"How was your flight?" Colby asked.

"Fine." Betsy looked around the cozy room. There were three high-backed armchairs drawn up in front of the fireplace. Colby motioned toward them.

"Can I get you something to take off the chill?"

"A cup of coffee, please."

"Nothing stronger?"

"No, thank you."

Betsy took the chair closest to the window. Colby sat in the center chair. Wayne Turner poured coffee from a silver urn a servant had set up on an antique, walnut side table. Betsy stared into the fire. She had barely noticed the weather on the ride from the airport. Now that she was inside, she shivered in a delayed reaction to the tension of the preceding hours. Wayne Turner handed Betsy a delicate china cup and saucer covered with finely drawn roses. The flowers were a pale pink and the stems a tracery of gold.

"How can I help you, Mrs. Tannenbaum'@"

"I know what you did ten years ago in Hunter's Point, Senator. I want to know why."

"And what did I do?"

"You corrupted the Hunter's Point task force, you destroyed police files, and you engineered a cover-up to protect a monstrous serial killer who revels in torturing women."