William Lashner - A Killer’s Kiss

“It hasn’t been that brilliant,” I said.

“You’re being modest, but I would expect no less. It is a certified truth that the greater the man, the greater the humility. And you, Mr. Carl, are living proof.”

“I’m not that humble either.”

“Still, Mr. Carl. Still.”

“Call me Victor,” I said.

“That would be a privilege.” He bowed his head in gratitude, as if I were a lord granting some great favor to a serf. “One of the reasons I have come today, Victor, is that I am trying to understand all that Mrs. Denniston was doing on the night of the murder. A timeline, so to speak. That is what they always do in the television shows, is it not? And so I am quite interested in what she was doing at your apartment when the police finally found her. The police detective has already given me your statement. The handsome one-”

“Sims.”

“Right, Detective Sims. I much prefer him to the other one, the big Irish one, who comes off as quite a brute. But Detective Sims seems much more reasonable.”

“Oh, he’s a great guy, he is.”

“He’s actually been very helpful.”

“I bet he has.”

“So, Victor, do you have anything to add to what you told the police?”

“No, the statement is still operative.”

“Still operative. That’s a funny phrasing. Quite atypical, don’t you think? May I ask you straight out what is the exact nature of your relationship with Julia?”

“No.”

He sat back awkwardly, stared at me over his pointy nose. “It would help my preparations tremendously.”

“I don’t see how. And in any event it’s personal.”

“Personal? Oh, my.”

“If you want an answer, Clarence, simply ask your client.”

“Yes, well, she hasn’t been, how do I say this” – he leaned forward, lowered his voice to a whisper – “as cooperative as I would have hoped.”

I tilted my head a bit. “She’s not talking? Even to you?”

“No. Do you have any idea why?”

I did. We had made a deal, a deal she had kept but that I had violated at the first convenient moment.

“No,” I said. “No idea. But she is being smart not to talk.”

“I don’t think it is smart at all. I have advised her, of course, that she should cooperate completely with the authorities. That is simply what one does after a great tragedy. But she has sadly not taken my advice. Which is too bad. I’m afraid if she doesn’t talk to the police soon, they are going to become suspicious.”

“That boat sailed long ago.”

“But it is not too late to turn the tide. I was as surprised as anyone when Julia called from police headquarters, but since that moment I have been working like a demon. And you’ll be gratified to know, I’m sure, that I have poor Julia’s case well in hand.”

He pulled out his handkerchief, blew his nose while staring at me, stuffed the handkerchief back in his jacket.

“Well in hand,” he repeated.

“That’s interesting,” I said, “because it appears from the papers that they are building an airtight case against her.”

“A flimsy case of circumstantial evidence only, Victor. A tissue of lies that I can, that I must, pull apart. And preparations are being made.”

“What kind of preparations?”

“As her attorney, you must understand, I am not at liberty to say.”

“The cops mentioned a guy named Cave. Miles Cave. Have you ever heard of him?”

Clarence sucked his teeth as he stared at me a moment. “No. Never. But I will get to the bottom of everything, Victor, trust that at least. And, like I said, Julia’s case is well in hand.”

Well in hand indeed, I thought. It didn’t take but a glimpse to size up Clarence Swift. He was eager, earnest, humble, and harmless, all fatal traits in a defense lawyer. And in court, no matter whom the D.A. put against him, he’d be terminally overmatched. If Julia had to depend on him in a murder trial, she’d be lost.

“What kind of law do you normally practice, Clarence?” I said.

“Mostly wills and such, taxes and real estate.”

“Have you ever defended a murder charge before?”

“Not precisely.”

“Ever tried a criminal case?”

“The son of one of our clients was arrested for driving under the influence.”

“How’d that turn out?”

“Well, he had failed his Breathalyzer, Victor, and there was not much anyone could have done.”

“I suppose not.”

“I know this won’t be easy, being Julia’s bulwark against the ravages of false accusation. But trust me when I tell you, I have her case well in hand.” Clarence raised a long, bony finger in the air. “She’ll be free and clear before you know it.”

“I wish I had your confidence.”

“Which brings me to the other reason I have come today.”

“Go ahead.”

“I understand you paid an uninvited visit to the house last night.”

“That’s right.”

“It must have been a disappointment to learn that Julia was still being held by the authorities.”

“I got over it.”

“I am working out a deal with the district attorney to have my client released. She could be out quite soon.”

“That’s great news.”

“Yes. ’Tis. But that might cause other problems in the investigation. So this is what I request, with all due respect, from you, Victor. It would be best for everyone, I believe, if you could manage to stay far away from Julia. No more visits to the house, no more rendezvous at your apartment or surreptitious meetings in hotel bars.”

“Hotel bars?”

“There is no need to stoke the suspicions of the police about a relationship between the two of you, no matter how misguided. No need to set tongues to wagging. As Julia’s attorney, I am asking that you don’t see her or communicate with her in any manner until this matter is resolved.”

I thought about that for a moment. “You don’t have the right to ask that.”

“Maybe not, but think of it as a favor to me.”

“I don’t owe you a favor.”

“Then think of it as an urgent request from her attorney. One that, if you refuse, might result in serious consequences.”

“Consequences?”

Clarence lifted his briefcase from his lap, stood. “Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice. It was quite generous of you.”

“Consequences?”

He walked to the door, stopped at the entranceway, and swiveled his head. “I will keep you informed of the progress of the case and any further information I might be needing. I’m sure the two of us will work famously together. Famously.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“Good day to you, sir,” said Clarence Swift. “A most earnest good day.”

I sat in my car and stared out the window at the front of the Denniston house.

It looked altogether less disturbing in the late-afternoon sun. A lovely home in a lovely neighborhood where a loving family could pursue its lovely future. Which of course I knew to be a lie. This wasn’t a home that protected with its warm embrace, it was a heap of stone and wood in which the twisted destinies of flawed people played out to their bitter ends. Usually that meant divorce and desolation, other times it meant a slow descent into decrepitude and madness, and sometimes it meant murder.

Yet I couldn’t help myself from driving over, parking on the street, waiting as if in stakeout for some blessed arrival. Gwen had called with the ring of excitement in her voice. Mr. Swift was waiting at the police station with his car. He had worked out something with the authorities. The missus was coming home.

Shortly after I showed up, a boxy black Volvo pulled into the circular drive and parked behind the BMW. Clarence Swift bounced out of the driver’s seat of the Volvo, jumped around the car, bent at the waist as he obsequiously opened the passenger door. He remained in a bow as Julia left the car and headed toward the house as casually as if she had just come back from a routine day of shopping and lunch. Clarence Swift slammed shut the door and slipped into position beside her, his mouth at her ear, talking and whispering and importuning as they walked inside the house. The big green door closed behind them both.