: Margolin: The Last Innocent Man

ORTIZ WAS THINKINGabout Thomas Gault as he walked to his car. How could they trap him? There had to be a way. He heard David’s car door open and shut. His car was nearby in the apartment parking lot. He unlocked the door and sat behind the wheel.

David drove by and Ortiz lit up a cigarette. He felt sorry for Nash. The guy looked awful. He wondered how he would feel carrying around the burden of Gault’s confession and not being able to do anything about it. Then he realized that that was exactly what he was doing.

Ortiz started his car. He was bushed. He’d sleep tonight. No alarms, either. He glanced out the window at nothing in particular as he neared the exit to the street. David’s car was half a block away, headed east. Across the street, to the west, a car turned on its lights and attracted Ortiz’s attention. His heart stopped. He slowed and pulled into an empty parking space after shutting off his lights. The car across the street pulled into traffic, keeping some distance behind David’s car. Ortiz backed out of the space and started to follow. The car was a beige Mercedes.

David noticed the headlights in his rearview mirror as soon as he turned off the highway, but he was too lost in thought to pay any attention to them until he saw them follow him up Jennifer’s driveway. He parked and stared back at the car behind him, trying to see who was driving. The glare of the headlights made him shade his eyes. Then the car stopped, and he saw that it was Gault’s Mercedes.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded when Gault got out of the car.

“Hi, Dave,” Gault replied cheerfully. He had a gun in his hand. “Why don’t you shut up and ring the doorbell? It looks like your lady friend is waiting up for you.”

“What is this?” David asked, frightened by the contrast between Gault’s nonchalance and the gun he was holding.

“The denouement, old buddy,” Gault replied. “Now, do as I say and ring for your honey.”

As soon as the door opened, Gault pushed David into the entranceway.

“Good evening, Mrs. Stafford,” Gault said, shutting the door behind him.

“What’s going on, David?” Jenny asked, looking from the gun in Gault’s hand to her lover.

“I don’t know what he wants, Jenny,” David answered.

David moved beside Jenny and took her hand. Gault looked around the entrance hall and into the living room.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, sweets,” Gault told Jenny, “and I want straight answers. If I don’t get them, I’m going to shoot your kneecap off, and, believe me, that is the most painful injury you can imagine. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Jenny answered, her voice trembling.

“Is there anyone else in this house?”

“No,” Jenny answered quickly.

“Good. Now here’s question number two: are you expecting anyone besides David to visit tonight?”

“No.”

Gault smiled. “That makes it cozy, then, doesn’t it? Just our little menage a trois and no one to disturb us. Why don’t we step into the living room,” Gault said, motioning with the gun. He followed David and Jenny.

David knew he had to stall for time. Gault was crazy, and if he didn’t keep him talking, the writer might shoot them where they stood.

“If this is another practical joke,” he said, trying to sound calm, “why don’t you drop it? You’re scaring the hell out of Jenny-and me, too.”

“Not trying to humor me, are you, old buddy? Fess up, now. You know this isn’t a joke, don’t ya?”

David didn’t answer and Gault shook his head sadly from side to side.

“You let me down, Dave. You really destroyed my faith in human nature.”

“What do you mean?”

“You broke your oath, didn’t you?” Gault teased. “Went yappity-yapping to your ex about our little secret.”

David’s stomach turned over.

“Nothing to say to me? No denials?”

David’s throat was dry and his voice caught when he tried to speak. Gault watched him, amused. He seemed to have all the time in the world.

“Want to know something, old buddy?” Gault said. “I’m not mad at you. You’re still my pal. See, I counted on your going to the police.”

David was confused.

“You thought I’d tell them you killed Darlene Hersch and Conklin?”

“It was a sure thing. Hell, Dave, you’re a bowl of mush. You’re drunk half the time and not worth a shit as a lawyer anymore. I knew you’d never stand up under the kind of pressure I put on you.”

“I don’t understand,” David said. “If you hadn’t told me, no one would ever have guessed you killed either one. You’d have been perfectly safe.”

“I don’t want to be safe, old buddy. You know, I lied to you a little, the other day, when I said that killing never gets boring. Even that loses its edge after a while, if there’s no variety. Think of how interesting it will be for me to outwit the police when they investigate your and Mrs. Stafford’s murders.”

Jenny’s eyes widened and she gripped David’s hand tightly.

“Yeah, Mrs. Stafford, I’m sorry about that, but it’s got to be. See, the cops and the DA will know I killed Julie, because Dave told Ms. Powers I confessed, right?”

Neither Jennifer nor David answered, and Gault went on.

“But they can’t do anything about that, because I can’t be retried once I’ve been acquitted. Score one for the bad guys.

“Now they know I killed Darlene Hersch and the investigator, but there’s no way they can prove it. I destroyed all the evidence, including the wig and the knife, and who would believe Ortiz if he said I killed Hersch, after he was so positive about his identification of Stafford?

“Then, there’s my confession to you. Only you’ll be dead. So the cops will only have one case left. Monica Powers will know I killed you, because I have the motive: my confession to you. I’ll be the number-one suspect. The only problem is, they’ll never be able to tell a jury about my confessions, right?”

“Why won’t they?” Jenny asked David.

“You tell her, counselor,” Gault said with a satisfied smile.

“Gault can object to Monica’s telling the jury about anything he told me in confidence as a client,” David said.

“And don’t forget hearsay, old buddy. A witness can’t tell the jury what someone told her outside of court, right? See, I’ve been doing a little legal research on the side. Say, do you think I should go to law school? After you’re gone, someone will have to take over the criminal practice in this town.”

“You think you’re so smart,” Jenny said. “You’ll slip up. They’ll get you.”

Gault shrugged. “It’s possible. Hell, I’m not perfect. But what’s a game without a little risk? Now, why don’t you two shut up, so I can decide how I want you to die.”

ORTIZ SUSPECTED WHEREDavid was headed when the lawyer turned off the highway. If he stayed too close on the deserted country road, Gault might spot him. If he guessed wrong, and David was not headed for the Stafford house, he was sure to lose both of them. He decided to take a chance and hang back.

The gamble paid off. Ortiz parked his car some distance from the entrance to the Staffords’ driveway and moved onto the grounds through a gap in the hedges. He crouched down. From his position in the shadows, he could see David and Thomas Gault talking in front of Gault’s car. Gault’s back was toward him, and he did not see the gun until Gault moved aside, pressing himself against the wall to the left of the front door.

The front door opened and Gault shoved David forward. The door closed. Ortiz waited for a count of ten; then, still keeping to the shadows, he ran to a position to the right of the front door. He knew, from the day they had searched the house, that the living room was to the left of the door as you entered. There was a light on in that room, but the curtains were drawn. The room to the right-the dining room-was dark.