Dave Zeltserman - Small crimes

After fifteen minutes Jim came out to greet me, and led me back to his office. His attitude towards me seemed curious, and when he got behind his desk he leaned back and pursed his lips while he studied me.

'You look like you've been run over by a truck,' he said.

'It's nothing. I tripped and fell, that's all.'

He knew that was a load of crap, but he didn't care enough to pursue it. 'It's been a long time, Joe. What can I help you with?'

'I need to hire a lawyer.'

'Why me? Isn't Harold Grayson your lawyer?'

'He's not available.'

He raised his eyebrows at that. "The two of you have a falling out?'

'No, nothing like that.' I paused, and then said, "There's a conflict of interest.'

'If you want to hire me my rates are one hundred and fifty an hour.' He checked his watch. 'You're on the clock now. What's the problem?'

I went straight into it and told him about Manny, the deal he was making with Phil, and what he was going to confess to. During it all, Jim leaned back in his chair bug-eyed as he listened to me.

'So you're saying Manny Vassey, to protect his son, will be alleging you murdered Ferguson?' he asked. 'Yes.'

'How do you know this?’

‘He told me.'

'He just came right out and volunteered this to you?’

‘Yeah.' I smiled weakly. 'I visited him a couple of days ago at the hospital and he let it leak.'

Jim's eyes widened as he considered what I was saying.

'So what do you think?' I asked. 'How badly will his confession hurt me?'

He rubbed his chin as he thought it over. Matter-of-factly he said, 'As you probably know a deathbed confession is an exclusion to the hearsay rule. If he does confess there's nothing I would be able to do to keep it out of court. Is there any other evidence you know of that could support his allegations?'

'His son, Junior, paid off a friend of mine, Earl Kelley, to write this/

I had Earl's affidavit with me and I handed it to him. As he read through the document, I realized that there was more. If Dan could make a deal and slice a few years off whatever sentence he was going to end up with, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He'd tell about the thirty thousand dollars' worth of bets a bookie told him I made after Billy Ferguson's murder. Thinking about that made me sick to my stomach.

Jim finished the affidavit and put it down. His expression didn't look too hopeful.

"This Kelley's a friend of yours?' he asked.

'Yeah.'

'Maybe you need to make yourself some new friends.’

‘Maybe, but Junior made it well worth his while to write that.’

‘If I were to depose Kelley, any chance he'd recant and admit to perjuring himself?’ I don't think so.'

'Anything you could say to him to help convince him?'

I shook my head. 'How bad is this for me?'

'I could argue that both Vassey's confession and this affidavit are self-serving, but I think I'd only be wasting my breath. Odds are pretty good you'll end up being convicted of first-degree murder.'

'Why would they buy Vassey's confession? He's a goddam criminal.'

'It doesn't matter. Deathbed confessions carry more weight with a jury than you could imagine. It's the psychology of it. Why would a dying person lie and risk purgatory? I know it's silly, but that's the way juries think.'

'What about the deal he's making to protect Junior from prosecution?'

'I don't think that would matter much. To be honest, the biggest problem we'll have is you. Face it, Joe, people here think you got off too easy for what you did to Phil Coakley. Now Phil wouldn't be trying the case against you, I'm sure one of his assistants would handle it, but he'd be sitting at the prosecutor's table each day reminding the jury what you did to him. They'll be looking for any excuse they can to send you back to prison. It's not fair, but that's the way it is.'

'What if you moved the trial to another state?'

He shrugged. I could try for a change of venue, but I don't think I'd be successful with that.'

'Why not?'

He gave a half-hearted shrug. 'I know the judges who'd be hearing this. They've all been having to live with Phil's scars these past years. I don't think there's a chance they'd give you any kind of break, let alone a change of venue.'

Of course, I knew it wouldn't matter where the trial was held. Once Dan told what he thought he knew, I'd be sunk.

Jim showed me an uneasy smile. "The one thing you have going for you is life without parole is seldom given in Vermont. I know of only half a dozen defendants who've gotten that.'

As I looked at him his smile faded. We both knew that I would be added to that select group.

'So that's it, huh?' I asked.

'I don't know what else to tell you, Joe. If charges are brought against you and you want me to represent you, I'd be happy to do it but I'll need to see eighty thousand dollars in escrow before I can sign on.'

'I don't have that type of money.'

He showed another half-hearted shrug. 'I'm sorry, Joe, I won't be able to help you, then. But I'm sure the court will appoint you a capable public defender.'

As I got up to leave, he checked his watch.

'Joe, we've been talking for twenty minutes. Usually I charge in fifteen minute intervals, but why don't we call it even at fifty dollars? You can pay my receptionist on your way out.'

I took fifty bucks out of wallet and tossed the money-on his desk.

It was pretty much what I expected. I don't know why I wasted my time and money with the meeting, but it didn't matter. The only effect it had on me was making me more resolute to carry out the plan I had settled on.

I still had over an hour before I had to meet Craig. I walked over to the Bradley Brewery, got a seat at the bar, and for the hell of it ordered a blueberry wheat ale. As I looked around the place I saw a number of people I knew. Most of them avoided eye contact with me, but there were a few who had been at church when Thayer made his speech on forgiveness, and a couple of them nodded back to me. I guess that was the best I could hope for.

I liked the ale more than I thought I would and ended up ordering a second one. The hour slipped by quickly and before I knew it I had to head over to the courthouse. Craig was waiting for me in the cubbyhole of an office he had there. He was originally from Queens, New York, and had moved to Bradley about the time I had joined the force. I wouldn't say we were ever exactly friends, but back then we used to talk a lot, or more precisely he used to talk a lot to me. For the most part it was a running monologue. He used to seek me out so he could tell me how sick he had gotten of New York and how glad he was to be able to have a quieter and more wholesome life in Vermont.

As I took a chair by his desk, I barely recognized him. He didn't look like he was enjoying the wholesome life he had hoped for. Craig was only a couple of years older than me, but his tight curly hair that used to be a reddish brown had turned gray and had receded to almost the top of his skull. He had also gotten a lot wider and heavier since I'd last seen him. As he sat behind his desk and frowned at me, he looked like a bitter, flabbier version of Larry Fine from the Three Stooges.

'What the hell happened to your face?' he demanded.

'You really want me to tell you?'

'What do you mean?'

'You could always ask Dan Pleasant, but if you want I'll be happy to tell you all-'

'Never mind,' Craig said, stopping me. I knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't want to deal with this type of problem.

'But Craig, you sent Dan after me, didn't you?’ I don't know what you're talking about.’

‘Didn't you notify Dan that I missed our meeting the other day?'

'What? I didn't say anything to him about that.'

So Dan was either guessing about me missing my parole meeting or he had one of his boys watching the courthouse. Sonofabitch!