William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

Like maybe having the killer come to your office to ask if you could get him off the murder he hadn't committed yet?

Ben couldn't help but wonder if he was responsible, at least in part. He prided himself on his determination to do the right thing. Had he just allowed a man to be killed? A good man, a public servant?

"I don't suppose your forensics people have turned anything up?"

"Not yet. Too soon. But honestly, what would they find? It's not as if there's much question about what happened here."

"Any traces of people other than the victim and the alleged assailant?"

"Yes. But remember, this is a hotel room. People come in and out every day, leaving behind their hairs and dead skin cells."

"Blood?"

"A lot from the victim. No one else."

"DNA traces."

"Not yet. But given how many people have probably stayed in this room…"

"Right. Not helpful. Eyewitnesses?"

"The man at the front desk vaguely recalls seeing Thomas come in. And of course he recalls seeing all the police officers roaming about. They were aware there was some sort of police operation going on in this room."

"And the weapon?"

"Standard handgun. Your guy was lying on top of it."

"He's not my guy."

"Yet. We're tracing the registration number."

"Good. Let me know."

Mike shrugged. "That's the law."

"If anything else comes up…"

"Still planning a reelection bid?"

Ben was startled by the abrupt change of subject. "I guess. Why? You think it's a bad idea?"

"I think you and campaigning will fit together about as well as me and high-heel shoes." He grinned. "But you have surprised me before."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Don't forget you're still honeymooning. These should be tranquil days, filled with love and laughter and promiscuity."

"Was that a poem?"

"No, that was original." He glanced over his shoulder at two nearby hair and fiber analysts. "Ben, can I have a word with you in private?"

"Do I have to?"

Mike took his arm. "'Let us go then, you and I / When the evening is spread out against the sky… '"

"Would you stop with the poetry already?" Ben sighed. "Why couldn't your father have put you to bed with Peter Rabbit, like everyone else?"

Mike pulled him to the side. "I hope you understand that I am speaking to you now as a friend, not a police officer."

"Am I going to like this?"

Mike put a finger in his chest. "You do not need this case. Seriously. This is a cop killing. People do not like cop killers, particularly in conservative towns like Tulsa. There will be massive publicity. You do not need to be a part of it. Not under any circumstances. But especially not if you're planning to run for another Senate term."

"Got it."

He looked at his friend sternly. "This case will not help you, Ben. The press will not be kind if you represent an accused cop killer."

"The press assume everyone accused is guilty. I don't."

"I don't think you're hearing what I'm saying."

"You're wrong. Message received and understood."

"But taken to heart?"

Ben drew in his breath. "I'm just going to talk to the man. I have no desire to get involved in this. For reasons you can't even begin to comprehend."

"Glad to hear it. Take care." Mike hesitated a moment. "Um, heard anything from your sister?"

"Not much. A few quick phone calls. But that's good, for her."

"And that little boy of hers?"

You mean, that little boy of yours? Ben thought. He still had no idea whether Mike realized what was so patently obvious to him. "Haven't spoken to Joey. I hear he's doing better in school."

"That's good. Not that I care, but if she happens to come to town…"

"I'll be sure to let you know."

"Thanks. I better get back to work." He started away, then turned back one last time, holding up a finger. "Now remember-no underdogs. No lost causes. No bad publicity."

"Got it."

"Scout's honor?"

"Scout's honor."

Mike paused a moment, then said: "You never were a Scout, were you?"

Ben smiled. "Couldn't stand the uniform."

Ben hated how his footsteps echoed as he walked down the metal-floored corridor that led to the county jail holding cells. He had been here before-on one notable occasion wearing orange coveralls, cuffs, and foot shackles-and it never failed to give him the willies. The deliberate austerity, the cold and mechanical environment, and the superior attitudes of those in attendance all made for an indelibly unpleasant experience.

Of course, that was the point.

"Here you are," the man in the tan uniform said, as if those three words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ben wasn't surprised. The arrestee was accused of killing a police officer. There would be no kindness in these quarters.

"Thanks, Sam." The attending officer unlocked the cell, let Ben in, then closed the door behind him.

Dennis was lying on the cot. The cell had a small table, an open toilet, and a sink, partially obscured by a small wall. It was not the Ritz. It was not even the basement at the Ritz.

Dennis opened his eyes. "Thanks for coming."

"It's a miracle I got here as soon as I did. They were deliberately giving me the runaround."

"I would've thought a senator would have some sway at the jailhouse."

"When it comes to cop killing, no one has sway. And the police won't make anything easy. The reporters are already gathering outside. I managed to come in through a side door, but I won't get that courtesy again." Ben put down his briefcase and sat on the end of the cot. "So what did you want?"

"I want you to get me off, obviously."

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because I can't suborn perjury."

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means I can't knowingly put someone on the stand and help him lie."

"Who said anything about lying?"

Ben gave him a long look. "You must think I have the memory of a mayfly. I know perfectly well you were planning to kill Detective Sentz. And then you went out and did it."

"I didn't."

"Don't patronize me."

"I didn't."

"Well, good luck convincing the jury."

"I think I should plead not guilty by reason of temporary insanity."

"I thought you didn't do it."

"That's correct. But I think my chances of success will be greater with a temporary insanity plea."

"You'll have to do it with a different attorney. Don't worry-there are lots of lawyers out there. You won't have any trouble finding someone."

"I don't want just anyone. I want you. I hear you're the best in town."

"There are lots of capable attorneys in town. Call my office manager. He can make some recommendations."

Dennis sat up and looked at him with the same pleading eyes that had almost started him crying when they last met. "I need your help."

"That's what you said before. But you didn't listen to me." Ben frowned. "What happened?"

"That's the problem. I don't know. I blacked out."

Ben took a deep breath. "Was that induced by the drugs or the nakedness?"

"I'm serious. I'm not making this up." He took Ben's arm and kept him from rising. "I will admit I hated that man. My wife suffered and died because of him. I will admit I thought about killing him, or making him suffer some semblance of what my wife suffered. But that wasn't why I went to see him. I wanted to confront him. Wanted to find out what was going on."

"I'm amazed he agreed to see you."

"I was, too. When I got to his hotel room, he almost seemed…" Dennis stared at the ceiling, searching for the right word. "He almost seemed guilt-ridden. Maybe he regretted what he did, after he saw what happened to Joslyn. I don't know. Something was on his mind. We talked, but at that point my memory gets pretty shaky. I don't know what happened except I remember having the distinct feeling he was going to tell me something, something important…"