Phillip Margolin - Executive Privilege

“But is he a liar?”

“I don’t know, but if I had to bet I’d guess he was telling the truth. He seemed genuinely offended at being convicted for something he claims he didn’t do, and he was adamant about proving his innocence, even though it won’t do him a damn bit of good because he’s going to be executed anyway.”

“Why did you ask me here?” Ginny asked.

“I don’t know what to do. My assignment is to research and file Little’s appeal. It’s not to prove he’s not guilty. And, anyway, legally, his guilt or innocence doesn’t mean anything in the Ninth Circuit. The court’s only interested in whether his lawyer was incompetent. Even if I find the pinkies the court wouldn’t consider the evidence.”

“So don’t do it. Just write the brief.”

“Can I just do that? I am his lawyer. Wouldn’t I be incompetent if Little gave me proof of his innocence and I didn’t investigate? And what if I don’t investigate and he goes to the press? How would that go over at the firm?”

“I can make an educated guess,” Ginny said. “The partners loathe bad publicity. It discourages well-heeled clients from shoveling money into the Reed, Briggs vault. So I’d guess that you’d be thrown to the wolves.”

“That’s what I thought. But would they like it any better if I was responsible for the acquittal of the most fiendish killer in recent Oregon history?”

“Good point. At least they could argue that Reed, Briggs fights for its clients no matter how despicable they might be. That would endear them to the tobacco and oil companies.”

“So you think I should try and find the pinkies?”

“It sounds a lot more interesting than trying to find the meaning of the section of the tax code they’ve got me studying. And there’s something else you should think about. What if he is innocent and you could prove it? You’d be famous. You might get enough great PR to bring business into the firm and speed you on your path to a partnership. Then you’d be the one at five o’clock on Friday who hands out thousand-page files to the associates with weekend plans. Wouldn’t that be great?”

Brad sighed. “Please get serious. This whole thing is giving me a splitting headache.”

“I say you do it. Call Little’s bluff. Ask him to tell you where he hid the pinkies. If he’s screwing with you, you’re off the hook.”

“And if he’s not?”

“You dig them up. I’ll even come with you. I’ll be your trusty sidekick.”

Brad was suddenly suspicious. Ginny seemed a little too eager. He narrowed his eyes and studied her.

“What’s going on? How come you’re so anxious to get involved in my case?”

Ginny blushed, embarrassed. Brad thought it made her look adorable.

“I got interested in Laurie Erickson’s murder after we talked,” Ginny confessed. “Do you know Jeff Hastings?” she asked, naming another first-year associate.

“Sure. We’ve played tennis a few times.”

“Jeff grew up in Portland and went to law school here, and his folks are loaded. They’re members of all the right clubs and know everyone and are connected politically, so Jeff heard all the gossip about Christopher Farrington when he was governor.”

“What gossip?”

Ginny leaned forward and lowered her voice. “There were rumors that Farrington was fooling around with Laurie Erickson.”

“What! I don’t believe that. She was just a kid.”

“Do you know what a dirty old man is?” Ginny asked with a smirk.

Brad blushed. “I’m not an idiot, Ginny, but don’t you think the media would have been all over this with Farrington running for president?”

“I asked Jeff the same thing. He said Farrington’s dodged a bullet. There were rumors floating around about an affair but everyone clammed up after Erickson was murdered. One rumor was that Laurie’s mother was paid off. Supposedly, a lot of money changed hands.”

“I thought Farrington was poor. Where would he get enough cash to buy off a mother whose child was just murdered?”

“Farrington has wealthy backers, but the obvious source would be his wife. Claire Farrington’s family is rich. The Meadows made money farming in Eastern Oregon. Then they diversified into Japanese car dealerships, and they provided the seed money for some successful high-tech companies. After they got engaged, Dr. Farrington’s family financed Christopher’s first run for state office. If it was necessary to save her husband’s career, Claire could come up with the cash.”

“Is there any evidence that Farrington was fooling around, anything concrete?”

“Jeff says no, but he also says that if Farrington was screwing Erickson it wouldn’t be the first time he lusted after tender, young flesh.”

Brad grimaced. “You’ve been reading too many Harlequin romances.”

“Farrington may have been acting them out. Jeff says that a year or so before he ran for the state senate Farrington settled a PI case for a seventeen-year-old girl who was injured in a skiing accident. Supposedly, he brought over the settlement check in a chauffeur-driven limo stocked with champagne and who knows what else and celebrated with her in the backseat.”

“Where did all this come from?”

“The chauffeur. Jeff says Farrington’s driver was so disgusted that he went to the cops. Supposedly, the girl’s parents wouldn’t let her talk to the police, so no charges were brought. Everyone thinks they were paid off by Chuck Hawkins, Farrington’s hatchet man.”

Brad took a sip of coffee and mulled over the titillating information Ginny had just provided. The more he thought the more his brow furrowed.

“So,” he said finally, “your theory is what, that the president of the United States killed his babysitter to shut her up about their affair.”

“Hawkins could have done it for him. Jeff’s met Hawkins a few times. He says the guy is scary. He was some special ops guy in the military and still wears his hair like a marine. He and Farrington are supposed to be very tight. The word is that there isn’t anything Hawkins won’t do to protect the president and the first lady.”

“Okay. This just got way out of my league. I’m not going to accuse the president of murder. Not only would Reed, Briggs fire me but I’d never get another job as long as I lived.”

“Who said you had to accuse the president of murder? Didn’t you pay attention in crim law? When you’re defending someone accused of a crime you don’t have to prove who did it. You just have to show that there’s a reasonable doubt about your client’s guilt. The police will have the job of arresting Erickson’s killer if you convince them that Little didn’t murder her.”

Brad hadn’t paid very close attention in his criminal law class and he’d forgotten that his responsibility to Clarence Little wouldn’t extend to finding the real killer the way the lawyers did on TV and in legal thrillers.

“You’re right,” Brad said, relieved. Then he looked serious. “Don’t tell anyone else your theory about Farrington. It could get you in trouble.”

“I’m not crazy, Brad. And I was just playing devil’s advocate before. I have no idea who killed Laurie Erickson. But I still want to help you find out if there’s anything to Little’s claim of innocence.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, pretty please. The stuff they’ve got me working on is boring. I want a case I can get excited about.”

Brad frowned. “I need to think.”

“By all means.”

“I do appreciate your advice and the information you gave me.”

“No problem.”

“Give me a day or so to work this out.”

“Take all the time you want. But remember one thing. If Little is innocent and you stand by and do nothing about it, you’ll be helping the real killer get away with murder.”