David Baldacci - True Blue

Your death makes no sense to me, Diane. Can’t you tell me what happened? Who killed you?

That line of thought was clearly not going to get him anywhere. He returned some calls, opened some files, pulled up some half-finished contracts on his computer, and pored over laborious notes he’d taken at a recent client meeting. He worked for a couple more hours and then checked his e-mails again. There were lots of new ones, some from clients, some from friends, and a few from coworkers telling him to basically get his head out of his butt over defending Diane’s killer.

For some reason, he scrolled far down the list and checked one old e-mail.

It was the last one he would ever get from Diane Tolliver.

We need to focus in on A-

Okay, they’d gotten that piece and run it down for naught. Roy’s gaze next ran over the initials at the bottom of the e-mail.

DLT.

It was her initials, for Diane Louise Tolliver. He’d seen her full name on several diplomas she had hanging in her office. As he thought about it, her initials being there made sense, but it also didn’t make sense. Roy quickly checked a dozen other e-mails that Diane had sent him over the last few months. None of them had her initials at the bottom. She invariably signed her e-mails, when she bothered to do so at all, by simply typing “Diane.”

DLT?

For some reason those initials seemed familiar apart from Tolliver’s name. Was there another reason she had put those letters in the e-mail? A backup in case the A-1 reference yielded nothing? Thinking back to the highly organized and intelligent lawyer that Diane had been, Roy had to admit that the woman’s employing a second clue hidden in the same e-mail was entirely plausible.

But why direct all these clues at him? He worked with her, sure, but they weren’t really close friends. Then again, maybe she didn’t have any close friends. The woman used a paid escort, after all, when she wanted to go out. But why not go to the police? If she had learned of some criminal activity or even suspected something illegal was going on, why not just go to the cops? As far as Roy knew, Diane had never done any criminal work, but she was still a lawyer. She knew her way around the legal system better than most.

But I was a criminal defense attorney. Was that why she was sending me the clues?

A sudden fear gripped him. He stared at the tiny webcam mounted at the top of his computer monitor. What if they were watching him right now? But then his fears receded. Mace had been in here on the night she’d found out about the A-1 clue. They’d talked about her discovery here. If someone had been watching and listening, they would’ve gotten to the mailbox before Roy and Mace had.

Still.

He slid open his desk drawer, pulled out a Post-it note, and hastily stuck it over the webcam, pulling his fingers quickly back as though the damn thing might bite him.

His cell phone rang.

“Kingman.”

It was Mace. Her few words hit Roy harder than Psycho had. “I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes,” he said. He grabbed his jacket and sprinted out of the office. The Captain most definitely needed a lawyer now.

He’d just been formally charged with first-degree murder.

GOT SOME damn good news today, Roy.”

Roy and Mace were sitting across from the Captain. He’d showered and his wet hair was now slicked back, his revealed widow’s peak solid gray. With part of the street grime gone, Roy could actually see some pink skin on the man’s face. The Captain was also now wearing a prison jumpsuit. A shackle belt was around his large waist, though his hands and legs were free for the time being.

Roy could see that the Captain had once been a very handsome fellow. His features were sharply defined, there were remnants of a square jaw, and a pair of green eyes was now visible with the shaggy hair out of his face. The only time he got cleaned up was to be charged with murder. The irony was not lost on Roy.

He and Mace exchanged glances. He said, “What’s that, Captain?”

“They found my cart.”

“Who, the police?”

The Captain nodded. “They came and told me. Seemed happy about it.”

“I’m sure. Look, Captain, do you understand what’s going on here?”

The Captain sighed heavily. “Damn Twinkies. Always the damn Twinkies.”

Mace said, “They don’t shackle Twinkie thieves, Captain.”

He looked at her with benign curiosity. “Do I know you, hon?”

“We met once. It was a pretty electrifying moment for you.”

“Okay, hon. If you say so.”

Roy hunched forward. “The photo of the woman I showed you yesterday? They’re charging you with raping and killing her in her office.”

Strangely enough, the Captain laughed. “I know. They told me that. The cops just kidding, Roy.”

“So you didn’t do it?”

“No, sir. They got me on the Twinkies, though. And the tools, don’t forget the tools, Roy. I took ’em. For the money.” He glanced at Mace and added woefully, “Three dollars, hon. Guy in a turban ripped me off.”

“Right, the tools, you told me,” said Roy wearily. “So you my lawyer?”

Mace looked expectantly at Roy. “ Are you his lawyer?’

Roy hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then I got money to pay you,” said the Captain.

“Okay, fine.”

“I got two hundred dollars. Cops took it, but they said they’d give it back.”

“Where’d you get two hundred bucks?” asked Mace quickly.

The Captain looked embarrassed. He said in a faltering tone, “I can’t say. No, wouldn’t be right, hon. Not in front of you.”

Roy stood and paced. “Do you know what DNA is?”

The Captain squinted. “I think so, yeah,” he said unconvincingly.

“Well, they found your DNA on the dead woman.”

The Captain’s face brightened. “Are they going to give it back?” He shot a glance at Mace. “It’s mine, right? So I’ll get my cart, my money, and my DNA. And I won’t never take no more Twinkies, swear to God.”

Roy let out a small groan and leaned against the wall. Mace walked over to him and whispered, “Has he always been this out of it?”

In a low voice he said, “He can carry on a basic conversation, gets simple concepts okay, but the abstract stuff is way beyond him. When I repped him on the assault three years ago, he was starting to show some early signs of dementia. He got a suspended sentence mainly because the prosecutor was a Vietnam vet too. But that was a simple assault. He’s not going to get cut any slack for murder in the first. The problem is, he can carry on a conversation and he understands some things, so no one is going to buy that he didn’t know what he was doing.”

“I guess the moral is, if you’re going to go nuts, go all the way.”

“And they have his sperm in Diane’s body. And he’s admitted to being in the building at the time in question. How the hell do I defend that?”

“You can’t. We just have to find the truth. It’s the only way.”

“Yeah, well, what if the truth is he did rape and kill Diane? What then?”

“I don’t know. But my gut is howling that this whole thing stinks.”

“Well, when you can get a jury to listen to your gut, let me know.” Roy turned back to the Captain and pulled out a legal pad and pen from his briefcase. “Captain, I need you to focus for me. We need to go through some timelines. Can you do that?”

The man looked worried. “I don’t know. They took my watch, Roy. I ain’t no good with time without my watch.”

“It’s okay, you can use mine.” He slipped it off and handed it to his client.