Mary Clark - Let Me Call You Sweetheart

“And Marshall moves back into Drumthwacket.”

“Exactly. He loves living in the governor’s mansion. As of now it’s a foregone conclusion that Green will get the nomination. He looks good, he sounds good. He’s got a great track record, the Reardon case being an important part of it. And by a remarkable coincidence, he’s actually smart. He intends to stick to the way Marshall ’s been running the state. But if anything upsets the apple cart, he’s beatable in the primary. There are a couple of other would-be candidates panting for the nomination.”

“Jonathan, I was talking about simply looking into things enough to see if the chief witness in a murder case had a serious problem that might have tainted his testimony. I mean, fathers grieve when their daughters die, but Dr. Smith has gone far beyond grief.”

“Kerry, Frank Green made his name by prosecuting that case. It’s what got him the media attention he needed. When Dukakis ran for president, a big factor in his defeat was the commercial that suggested he released a killer who then went on a crime spree. Do you know what the media would do if it were suggested that Green sent an innocent man to prison for the rest of his life?”

“Jonathan, you’re getting way ahead of me. I’m not going in with that supposition. I just feel that Smith has a big problem, and it may have affected his testimony. He was the prosecution’s main witness, and if he lied, it really casts doubt in my mind as to whether Reardon is guilty.”

The waiter was standing over them, holding a coffeepot. “More coffee, Senator?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded. Kerry waved her hand over her cup. “I’m fine.”

Jonathan suddenly smiled. “Kerry, do you remember when you were house-sitting for us and thought the landscaper hadn’t put as many shrubs and bushes in as he had in the design?”

Kerry looked uncomfortable. “I remember.”

“That last day you went around, counted all of them, thought you’d proven your point, dressed him down in front of his crew. Right?”

Kerry looked down at her coffee. “Uh-huh.”

“You tell me what happened.”

“He wasn’t satisfied with the way some of the bushes looked, called you and Grace in Florida, then took them out, intending to replace them.”

“What else?”

“He was Grace’s cousin’s husband.”

“See what I mean?” His eyes had a twinkle. Then his expression became serious. “Kerry, if you embarrass Frank Green and put his nomination in jeopardy, chances are you can kiss your judgeship good-bye. Your name will be buried in a pile on Governor Marshall’s desk, and I’ll be quietly asked to submit another candidate for the vacancy.” He paused, then took Kerry’s hand. “Give this lots of thought before you do anything. I know you’ll make the right decision.”

Promptly at six-thirty that evening the chiming of the doorbell sent Robin racing to greet Geoff Dorso. Kerry had told her he was coming and that they would be going over a case for half an hour or so. Robin had decided to eat early and promised to finish her homework in her room while Kerry was busy. In exchange she was getting an unaccustomed weeknight hour of television.

She inspected Dorso with benevolence and ushered him into the family room. “My mother will be right down,” she announced. “I’m Robin.”

“I’m Geoff Dorso. How does the other guy look?” Geoff asked.

With a smile he indicated the still-vivid marks on her face.

Robin grinned. “I flattened him. Actually it was a fender bender with some flying glass.”

“It looks as though it’s healing fine.”

“Dr. Smith, the plastic surgeon, says it is. Mom says you know him. I think he’s creepy.”

“Robin!” Kerry had just come downstairs.

“From the mouths of babes,” Dorso said, smiling. “Kerry, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, Geoff.” I hope I mean it, Kerry thought as her gaze fell on the bulging briefcase under Dorso’s arm. “Robin…”

“I know. Homework,” Robin agreed cheerfully. “I’m not the neatest person in the world,” she explained to Dorso. “My last report card had ‘improvement needed’ checked above ‘home assignments.’”

“Also, ‘uses time well’ had a check above it,” Kerry reminded her.

“That’s because when I finish an assignment in school, I forget sometimes and start to talk to one of my friends. Okay.” With a wave of her hand, Robin headed for the staircase.

Geoff Dorso smiled after her. “Nice kid, Kerry, and she’s a knockout. In another five or six years you’ll have to barricade the door.”

“A scary prospect. Geoff, coffee, a drink, a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks. I promised not to take too much of your time.” He laid his briefcase on the coffee table. “Do you want to go over this in here?”

“Sure.” She sat next to him on the couch as he took out two thick volumes of bound paper. “The trial transcript,” he said, “one thousand pages of it. If you really want to understand what went on, I would suggest you read it carefully. Frankly, from start to finish, I’m ashamed of the defense we mounted. I know Skip had to take the stand, but he wasn’t properly prepared. The state’s witnesses weren’t vigorously questioned. And we only called two character witnesses for Skip when we should have called twenty.”

“Why was it handled that way?” Kerry asked.

“I was the most junior counsel, having just been hired by Farrell and Strauss. Farrell had been a good defense lawyer once upon a time, no doubt about that. But when Skip Reardon hired him, he was well past his prime and pretty much burned out. He just wasn’t interested in another murder case. I really think Skip would have been better off with a much less experienced attorney who had some fire in his gut.”

“Couldn’t you have filled the gap?”

“No, not really. I was just out of law school and didn’t have much to say about anything. I had very little participation in the trial at all. I was basically a gofer for Farrell. As inexperienced as I was, though, it was obvious to me that the trial was handled badly.”

“And Frank Green tore him apart on cross-examination.”

“As you read, he got Skip to admit that he and Suzanne had quarreled that morning, that he’d spoken to his accountant to find out what a divorce would cost, that he’d gone back to the house at six and again quarreled with Suzanne. The coroner estimated time of death to be between six and eight o’clock, so Skip could, by his own testimony, be placed at the scene of the crime at the possible time of the murder.”

“From the account I read, Skip Reardon claimed he went back to his office, had a couple of drinks and fell asleep. That’s pretty thin,” Kerry commented.

“It’s thin but it’s true. Skip had established a very successful business, mostly building quality homes, although recently he had expanded into shopping malls. Most of his time was spent in the office, taking care of the business end, but he loved to put on work clothes and spend the day with a crew. That’s what he’d done that day, before coming back to work at the office. The guy was tired.”

He opened the first volume. “I’ve flagged Smith’s testimony as well as Skip’s. The crux of the matter is that we are certain that there was someone else involved, and we have reason to believe it was another man. In fact, Skip was convinced that Suzanne was involved with another man, perhaps even with more than one. What precipitated the second quarrel, the one that occurred when he went home at six o’clock, was that he found her arranging a bunch of red roses-sweetheart roses, I think the press called them-that he had not sent her. The prosecution maintained that he went into a rage, strangled her, then threw the roses over her body. He, of course, swears that he didn’t, that when he left, Suzanne was still blithely puttering with the flowers.”