Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

"I don't care. I'm not hungry."

We rode in silence. Vince had to park a block away from the deli. As we walked on the uneven cobblestones, the sights and sounds of the people along the waterfront seemed out of touch with reality. The deli was crowded. Vince ordered a ham sandwich. I picked up a bottle of water.

"Thanks for coming," Vince said as we sat down. "Where did you go after we talked this morning?"

"That's a question, not an apology."

"I'll get right to it. You were right that your investigation into Lisa Prescott's disappearance shouldn't be common knowledge at the firm."

Vince paused as a waitress brought his sandwich. I took a sip of water.

"At ten thirty I was supposed to go over a research memo with Mr. Braddock in the conference room. He wasn't there so I went to his office but had to wait because he was in a meeting with Mr. Carpenter. The office door was cracked open. I couldn't hear Mr. Braddock's voice because he's so soft-spoken, but I caught some of Mr. Carpenter's side of the conversation. He told Mr. Braddock that you had sent him a memo on Tuesday to update him on the Jones matter and he should be hearing from you again soon. Then he said `stronger pressure should have been applied to Moses Jones a long time ago."'

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I don't know exactly, but it doesn't sound good. Mr. Braddock must have talked for a while; then Mr. Carpenter said, As soon as Ms. Taylor is out of the picture, we'll get to him before it's too late.' It was quiet while Mr. Braddock talked, and then Mr. Carpenter came barreling out of the office. I almost fell out of the chair."

"Did he realize you were eavesdropping?"

"I hope not. He was in such a hurry to leave the office that I don't think he paid any attention to me."

Vince took a bite from his sandwich. I glanced past his shoulder at the people lined up at the counter. Two women were pointing at items in the display case as they discussed what to eat. My decision was much more serious-how much to tell Vince about my morning discovery.

"Your intuition or discernment or whatever you want to call it was correct," Vince said between bites. "I thought about going back to Julie and warning her to keep her mouth shut, but that would probably make her more likely to talk."

"Yes."

Vince pushed his plate away from him and covered his sandwich with a paper napkin.

"I'm not hungry either," he said. "It was so bizarre hearing two respected attorneys talk like gangsters that I didn't know what to think."

Vince's dilemma mirrored my own. "I completely understand," I said slowly. "Only this morning I was reading about a forty-yearold conversation between two different men named Carpenter and Braddock."

Vince listened to my story, then spoke. "If I hadn't read the memo and overheard today's conversation, I wouldn't think that the current Mr. Carpenter and Mr. Braddock had done anything wrong," he said. "Now, I don't know. Mr. Braddock was just beginning to practice law with his father when all this happened, and Joe Carpenter was in high school or about to enter college. Maybe they were pulled in somehow."

"I'm not sure I want to know. The immediate crisis is what to do about Moses Jones. Even if he did something wrong a long time ago, he should only be punished by the proper authorities. Do I have a greater obligation to protect him from `stronger pressure,' or should I just keep quiet and represent him in the trespassing case? Would it be unethical to tell the assistant district attorney that he needs to be kept in jail for his own safety?" My voice trembled slightly. "What if he gets out of jail and something bad happens to him?"

"What does Zach think? Have you talked to him?"

"No! From the beginning, he's been reluctant to help and argues with me about everything. I think it's time to draw a circle around us and agree that we're the only ones who need to know what's going on.,,

Vince leaned back in his chair. "Okay. But while you're thinking about Zach and Mr. Jones, you need to decide what you're going to tell Mr. Carpenter. He's expecting to hear from you."

"I know, but I think it all leads to the same place. First, I have to talk to Moses. This is his case, his life."

We returned to the office. The firm car was checked out and would be gone for the rest of the afternoon. I was stranded.

"You can borrow mine," Vince offered.

"Are you sure?"

He handed me the keys. "Of course. You're only driving across town."

"Thanks." I walked rapidly to the library. I didn't want to run into Zach or Mr. Carpenter. All I needed was the folder containing copies of the newspaper clippings. It was time to find out whether Moses' memory, like Mrs. Fairmont's, could be unlocked by a picture. I opened the library door. Julie was sitting at the table.

"Any success?" she asked.

"Not yet," I answered quickly. "I'm going to the jail to talk to Moses Jones. The date of trial hasn't been set, but I've got to start getting ready."

"Are you going to ask more questions about the Prescott girl?"

"Maybe."

Julie placed a book on top of the papers stacked in front of her.

"I'm going with you. You'll need a witness of what he tells you."

"That's unnecessary," I answered, trying to stay calm. "You should be working on your own cases."

"Not if I need to help you. Besides, we can take my car."

"Vince is loaning me his car."

Julie's eyes widened. "When are you going to move into his apartment?"

I felt a flash of heat across my entire body and an overwhelming urge to yell at her. I closed my eyes to fight it off.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Julie said. "I keep forgetting that you don't share my sense of humor."

"And I don't need your help."

Julie held up her hands. "Don't be so touchy. But you can't trust your judgment when you're so upset about everything."

"I'm not upset about everything. Just your crude comment."

"You're wrong about that." Julie held up her right hand and pointed at her fingers. "You're upset with Mr. Carpenter because his questions scare you, mad at Zach because he doesn't agree with you all the time, and tired of me teasing you. I don't know for sure, but I also suspect Gerry Patrick and Bob Kettleson have gotten under your skin. To top it all off, you're frustrated by everything that's been happening in the Jones case. Judge Cannon and the assistant DA are blocking you at every turn, and you don't see a way out. If it weren't for your iron will, you'd be close to cracking."

Julie sat back in her chair with a self-satisfied look on her face. My mother couldn't have done a better job of dissecting my struggles.

"Maybe you should have gotten a PhD in psychology," I replied as evenly as I could, "but I still don't want you to go to the jail with me."

"Suit yourself. But I'm here if you need me."

I picked up my folder and left. The midday heat had driven out the effects of the air-conditioning left from our drive to lunch. I turned the fan motor on high. Backing out of the parking space, I heard the sound of a horn and slammed on the brakes. Turning my head, I saw Mr. Braddock behind me in his silver Mercedes. He shook his head and smiled. I said a quick prayer of thanks that I'd not hit his car, but all the way to the jail couldn't get the look on his face out of my mind. How could a man with such deep-seated evil living within his soul smile and wave? The Old Testament prophet was right when he wrote that the heart of man was deceitfully wicked above all else, who can fathom it?

Arriving at the jail, I identified myself to the female deputy on duty and asked to see Moses. I waited in the open area outside the interview rooms until he appeared, escorted by a corrections officer who looked as young as my brother Kyle. We went into an interview room.