William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

Ben reached forward and took her hand. "Christina, I know you're trying to protect me."

"You're darn tootin'! Someone's got to do it! Do you know I've just come from a two-hour planning session with Harvey? We're supposedly working out your reelection campaign. But if you take this case, you can forget about it. Your candidacy is toast."

"I don't believe that. People understand that everyone is entitled to a defense."

"Excuse me?" She grabbed him by the lapels. "Have you forgotten where you live? This is the land of capital punishment and everyone-should-be-tried-as-an-adult."

"You're being unduly cynical."

"Wait till Channel Six gets wind of this. You'll be the lead story for a week. 'Senator Aids Alleged Cop Slayer!' Do you know what that will do to your approval ratings?"

"I didn't get into this profession for approval ratings."

Christina threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I know that, Ben." Ben could feel her pulse, feel her heart throbbing. He knew she was worried about him. "And frankly, I couldn't care less if you run for reelection. I'd probably rather you didn't. But if you're going to take a hit of this magnitude, I want it to be for a good reason. Not because some bitter, scheming murderer is using you."

"Christina." He gave her a little squeeze. "I know you don't think much of my ability to size up people. But I genuinely believe Dennis is sincere. He's not an evil person. I think the loss of his wife has devastated him-as it would me. He's just trying to cope."

"That's not the impression I'm getting."

"I talked to Mike and got some of the paperwork on the case. Dennis did go to the police department every day for a week. Sometimes twice a day. Trying to get them to open a missing persons file. To investigate his wife's disappearance. And this Detective Sentz refused. Even after she had been gone a week! Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"I think it's appalling. But I don't think it justifies murder. Neither will the jury."

"Sentz claimed there was no crime, no evidence of foul play, and Mike tells me that technically he's right. They have strong criteria that have to be met before they investigate missing persons because it happens so frequently. Plus, she had disappeared once before, many years before, of her own volition. But still… how could any detective resist such a desperate husband? The disappearance of a prominent physician. Someone who worked with cancer patients. Don't you think most people would break a few rules? I know I would."

"You break rules for every sad sack who walks through your doorway, Ben. You can't use yourself as a benchmark. Maybe Detective Sentz was rigid. Maybe even a little heartless. But at the end of the day, it doesn't justify murder."

"I'm not saying it does. I'm just saying I think it's odd. Worth investigating. I want you to ask Loving to look into this. He has a lot of cop buddies. See what he can find out about Sentz. And this whole situation."

"I think you're wasting your time. And Loving's. And mine."

"But you haven't talked to Dennis. Will you at least meet him first? And then if you still don't believe him…"

She looked at him expectantly, arms folded. "Yes?" He smiled. "I will seriously consider listening to you." Christina grabbed her coat and headed toward the door. "I am not amused, Mr. Kincaid. Or comforted. Not a bit."

Ben was astonished by his first glimpse of Dennis Thomas. As soon as he and Christina rounded the corner and peered into the cell, he realized how much Dennis had changed, or had been changed, by a few days in jail. His skin was white and pasty. Of course, he'd had no sunlight since he was arrested, plus the meals served tended toward starch and white bread. Opportunities for exercise were limited. He appeared to have shaved, but not well. And his brain was probably atrophying; he was used to reading and teaching and other forms of mental stimulation.

But if he looked this poorly after a few days, what would he look like by the time the case came to trial? Ben made a mental note. It was imperative to get this case set as quickly as possible. Before he got any worse.

The guard opened the cell door and Ben and Christina stepped inside.

"Thanks, Sam." The guard closed the door behind him. "Dennis, I want you to meet my partner-and wife, Christina McCall."

Dennis rose from his cot and they shook hands. Ben thought Christina's shake seemed particularly frosty.

"So," Dennis said, almost smiling, "you're here to see if I'm really Jack the Ripper?"

Christina made no apologies. "Something like that. Does that bother you?"

"No. As long as you represent me properly, your private thoughts don't matter, do they?"

"How are you doing?" Ben said, cutting in.

"Oh, as well as can be expected. The guards all hate me, but so far, no one has assaulted me, much as they want to. They've been putting stuff in my food. So I haven't eaten much. And I'm certain that guy in the next cell is a plant. A designated snitch."

Probably so, Ben mused. Smart man. "But how are you feeling?"

"As good as can be expected. I still miss my wife. I talk to her. Sometimes I think I hear her talking back…"

Ben and Christina eyed each other. Sounded crazy. Was that the point?

"Do you feel any remorse?" Christina asked.

"Would that be useful?" He didn't blink. "I didn't kill that man, but I could certainly tear up over my wife."

Christina pursed her lips wordlessly.

"Don't stare at me like that just because I'm smart enough to know how to avoid conviction for a crime I didn't commit. Do you think we'll get bail?"

"Unlikely."

"Well, think of an angle. I'm sure two bright people like you can work something out. I have to get bail."

"Why is that?" Christina asked, one arm akimbo.

"Because I don't want the jury to see me looking like I've been in jail for a long period of time. I can see how my appearance has deteriorated. By the time this gets to trial, it will be worse. I also don't want the jury to see me in orange coveralls and a bad haircut."

"I can take care of that, in any case," Ben explained. "We'll have an opportunity to bring you a suit. Get your hair styled."

"That's not enough. I want out. Do you think you could call a press conference?"

Ben felt jolted by the sudden switch of topic. "How would that help anything?"

"They've got television in here, you know. I can see the media frenzy over this case. But no one is presenting my side of the story."

"There's a reason for that," Christina said quietly.

Ben cleared his throat. "We'll have a chance to tell our story at the trial."

"That's not good enough." Dennis looked at him directly. "In the first case, you probably won't call me at trial unless you have to. Even if you do, I'll be cross-examined and the DA will do his best to make me look bad. But at a press conference, I can say anything I want, or you can say it for me, and no one is cross-examined."

"The reporters will want to ask questions."

"You can take questions. From the ones you trust."

"But what good will it do? The press are not the ones who decide the case."

"The jurors do. And there's a very good chance those yet-to-be selected jurors will be watching the coverage of this case. Everyone else seems to be."

Ben had to admit-the man had thought this out carefully. And intelligently. That's what was so scary about him.

"Have you got a psychiatrist lined up yet?"

"Well," Ben said, "I have some possibilities."

"We need a good expert. Someone convincing. My therapist is one of the top in the country. And a very experienced witness."

What a coincidence.

"But you make the call. I've prepared a list of people I've seen in the past, and others I know by reputation."