Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“That workout is pretty intense. But the results seem to be worth it.” Marvin patted his belly, which was still ample, but visibly less so.

“And the salt? Have you dropped the salt from your diet?”

“Gone. Well, mostly gone.”

“More potassium, less sodium. Remember that. And keep checking the labels. Amazing how much sodium they cram in there.”

“I think we should worry less about me and focus more on you. Deal?”

Tom wasn’t ready to take any deal. “Have you worked up the nerve to ask out Rebecca Bartholomew? I’m telling you, she’s a real catch.” This was stalling, but the pleasant chitchat was helping Tom relax.

Marvin smiled and seemed to understand Tom’s motivation. “No, but she did come up on my Match.com suggested matches,” he said. “I didn’t go through with it, though. Too nervous, I guess. Maybe in another ten pounds.”

“I’ll get you that ten. No problem.”

“Let’s win your case first, and then we can figure out my social life.”

Tom inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. It was time to get down to business. “I’m being set up,” he said.

“That’s our working premise.”

“It’s got to be Kip Lange.”

Marvin’s expression darkened. “Tom, I’m advising you not to implicate yourself in another crime. I don’t want to know any more about Lange. You’ve alerted the police to your concerns. That’s enough for now.”

“What about Murphy? The guy has been gunning for me from day one. Could he have planted the evidence just to make an arrest?”

“Anything is possible.”

“I don’t think it was a player. But I can’t be sure. A rival coach, maybe?”

“We’ve got a long road ahead of us, Tom. This is going to take time, and I’m not going to tell you that it’s going to be easy.”

“Marvin, can you tell me that you’re good at this sort of thing?”

“I’m good.”

“Tell me how we’re going to beat this,” said Tom.

“Do you remember the controversy around your state scoring title?”

“Sure. You found out that the state’s official statistician didn’t record all my goals.”

“Not only did he not record all your goals, but it was his kid who was nearest to you for the most scored in state history. And lo and behold, it was his kid who ended up with the title.”

“I’m liking the memory-lane trip, Marvin, but can you tell me what that’s got to do with my case?”

“Ask yourself, what is it about Marvin Pressman that made him start digging into that scoring record in the first place?”

“You thought it was bullshit,” Tom said.

“More than bullshit. I knew it was an outlier.”

“Outlier?” Tom said.

“You know, something that deviates from the norm. You being beat out by that kid, in my mind, was simply impossible. I knew it right away. He wasn’t even a senior. So I went back and watched all your games on tape and documented the date, time, and minute when you scored each goal. That’s how I figured out his daddy was cooking the official books so that his kid came out on top.”

“All very interesting, but how does this help me?”

“Why did Bjorn Borg generate more topspin with his backhand than any other player on tour?”

“Marvin, does it matter?”

“Because his backhand was almost like a hockey slap shot. It was that loose style that gave the ball its unique spin. Why can Rory Delap execute a longer throw-in that is more accurate than most corner kicks?”

“Why?” Tom said, going along with this thought train.

“It’s all in the way he throws the ball. Low, flat trajectory, tons of backspin, which counters gravity, even though his release is at a low angle.”

“And what does this have to do with my case, Marvin? Help me out here. I’m putting my life on the line with you.”

“What it means is that even though I’ve never tried a case exactly like yours, I’m really good at finding explanations for unusual events. I’m good at picking up insights that will make a jury nod their heads and say, ‘Hey, that does present us with some reasonable doubt here.’ I think it’s that wiring that gives my clients the edge. So the first rule of working with me is that you’ve got to trust me. Second rule… See rule one. Comprende? ”

Tom nodded. “Okay. So what do you know?” he asked.

Marvin reached behind him to close the door. “I’d like some privacy with my client,” Marvin said to the police officer standing guard. The door closed with a soft click. “Why don’t we start by you telling me what you know?”

Tom scoffed. “I have no idea. Somebody created these bogus blog posts claiming they were having sex with me. Supposedly, one of my players. The police turned it into a public spectacle by questioning my players about the post as a group. Nothing came of it. Then I gave Sergeant Murphy my school-issued laptop computer—”

“Gave it to him?”

“He asked for it, and I had nothing to hide. So yeah, I gave it to him. Then some girl sent me text messages with pictures attached. Naked pictures. Obviously, that’s part of the setup. I know that now. But at the time I thought it wasn’t related. I didn’t want to shine an even brighter spotlight on me, and subsequently on Jill. In hindsight, that was probably a mistake, because the next day someone used Facebook to say that they knew which player I was sleeping with. I got the police involved then, school officials, too. Now, why would I have done that if I was guilty? Doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you knew the jig was up. Maybe the police think you were trying to make it look like it was a setup.”

“I don’t know what they’re thinking,” Tom said. “All I know is that a few days after somebody sent me that picture, I got arrested, booked, and questioned by the FBI about my connection to somebody named James Mann.”

Marvin nodded. “They’ve booked you on numerous counts of possession and trafficking of child pornography. Did she say why she wanted to talk to you?”

“She thinks I’m involved with a case she’s investigating. But that’s insane. I didn’t do any of what she said I did. It sickens me to even think about it.”

Marvin took off his glasses and stared through the lenses. He polished away some grime. “That’ll be the last time you tell me you’re innocent. Deal?” Marvin put his glasses back on.

“But—”

“I’m here. I’m your lawyer. I’m going to defend you.”

Tom had to close his eyes to keep from saying anything more.

Marvin continued, “Now, usually when I conduct my first interview, I don’t know much about the evidence, and the cops generally aren’t too forthcoming. But…”

“But what?”

“But on my way in, Murphy said to me, ‘Don’t waste your time on this one, Pressman. The case is a slam dunk.’ So I say, ‘Why’s that?’ And he starts blabbing about things he probably shouldn’t be blabbing about.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the consent search you gave them for the laptop. And the evidence they found linking you to a sexual relationship with Lindsey Wells.”

“Lindsey Wells?”

“Apparently, they found a number of pictures of naked girls from Shilo on your computer, Tom. Including pictures of the girl you described to Rich Fox at that meeting. Murphy said ten are from Shilo and about thirty they couldn’t ID. He was being sarcastic when he said he’d ask your help with that.”

“Which I can’t do,” Tom said.

“Of course you can’t. But they think you recruited other people, kids probably, to help you obtain these images, which you then allegedly sold on the Internet.”

“And they found all this on my school-issued laptop?”