Phillip Margolin - Ties That Bind

"This is a bit overwhelming, Judge. I'd like some time to think, and I'll want to talk it over with my father."

"I spoke with Frank earlier," Robard answered with a weaselly smile. "I can tell you that he's all for it."

"Oh he is, is he? Well, I'd like to know why. So it's either give me some time or I'll politely decline your kind offer to spend the next few months with a homicidal maniac."

"Time is of the essence, Miss Jaffe."

Amanda sighed. "I'm having dinner with my dad tonight. I'll get back to you tomorrow."

Robard's head dipped a few times. "That's fair, that's eminently fair. I'm usually here at seven." Robard scribbled something on his business card. "Here's my back line. My secretary doesn't get in until eight."

Amanda Jaffe's mother had died the day Amanda was born, and Frank Jaffe was the only parent she'd ever known. In his youth, Frank had been a man's man, a brawler and carouser who believed that a woman's place was in the home. He had never imagined himself raising a little girl by himself. Then Amanda's mother died, and Frank put every ounce of his energy into the job. Because he had no idea what he was supposed to do, Frank did everything. There had been dolls and ballet lessons, but Amanda had also learned to raft white water, pump iron, and shoot a gun. When she showed an aptitude for swimming fast, Frank became her biggest supporter, praising her when she won--which was often--and never getting down on her when she didn't.

Six years ago, Amanda had hesitated when Frank offered her a job as an associate in his firm. She wondered at the time if her father wanted her for her legal skills or because she was his daughter. In the end, she'd accepted the offer over several others because criminal law was the only type of law Amanda wanted to practice and Frank Jaffe was one of the best criminal lawyers in the country. Now her reputation was approaching that of her father's and there were only rare occasions in her professional life when Frank acted like a parent and not a law partner. When that happened, Amanda set him straight, which was what she was determined to do when she pulled her car into the driveway of the steep-roofed East Lake Victorian where she had grown up.

Frank was only an adequate cook, but he excelled at matzo-ball soup and potato pancakes, his mother's specialties. When Amanda was a little girl, Frank had prepared these dishes for her as a special treat. When Amanda saw the fixings on the kitchen counter she knew her father was feeling guilty.

"I always thought we got along, and I haven't heard that the firm needs to downsize," she said as she chucked her coat onto a chair. "Is there some other reason you want me to die?"

"Now, Amanda . . ."

"Did you tell the Honorable Ivan Robard that I would accept his offer to represent a lawyer killer?"

"No, I did not. I simply said that you were up to the job."

"So are you. How come you didn't volunteer to help this poor unfortunate boy?"

"I can't take the case. I knew Travis. I was in a foursome with him at the Westmont, last week."

"Oh, I see. You can't be a human sacrifice because Travis is an old golfing buddy, but I don't play golf, so I'm fair game. What on earth were you thinking?"

"I had a few reasons for suggesting that Ivan ask you to take the case. There's the general one about every defendant deserving the best representation possible, and it bothers me that lawyers are refusing to take on this case because they're scared. But neither of those is the reason I'd like to see you represent Dupre."

Frank paused. When he spoke, he looked concerned.

"That business last year was awful. You know how proud I am of the way you handled it, but I also know that since the Cardoni case ended you've stayed away from cases involving violence. I can see why you'd do that. I wish I could wipe out the bad memories. And I was thinking that maybe one way you can get past what happened is by getting back on the horse."

Amanda had to admit that since Cardoni she had been involved in only a few murder or assault cases, and even there, with the exception of Daniel Ames's case, she had limited herself to helping other attorneys in the firm with legal research or pretrial motions. She just did not want to see any more violence. And that presented a problem when you were practicing criminal law.

"You're right, Dad. I have been running scared. But that case . . ." She flashed on the Mary Sandowski video, and a shudder ran through her. "It's been very hard for me."

Frank's heart ached at the memory of what his daughter had gone through.

"I know, kid," he said, "and I wouldn't blame you if you tried something else, another area of law. But you've got to face up to your fears if you're going to stick with criminal law. It's your choice and I'll support any decision you make, but this is as good a way as any to test yourself if you want to stay with the practice."

"I'll think about it."

"Good, but you can't do that on an empty stomach. So, enough law. Let's eat."

Part Three

THE PRESUMPTION OF INNOCENCE

Chapter Fifteen.

Shortly before quitting time, Jack Stamm summoned Tim Kerrigan to his office. When his senior deputy arrived, the Multnomah County district attorney waved him into a chair and signaled his secretary to close his door. Stamm, who was usually upbeat, was not smiling.

"Can you believe this mess with Wendell Hayes? In the jail of all places. It makes everyone in law enforcement look like a boob."

Stamm ran his fingers through his thinning brown hair. His eyes were bloodshot and there were dark circles under them. Kerrigan guessed that the DA had slept very little since the Hayes killing.

"I want you on this, Tim. I want Dupre on death row for the murders of Wendell Hayes and Harold Travis."

This was not what Kerrigan wanted to hear. The case would be huge, but there was Ally Bennett to consider. She hadn't shown any sign that she knew who he was when they'd had sex at the motel, but his face would be on television and in the newspapers every day if he prosecuted Jon Dupre. What would she do if she discovered who he was? He'd be wide-open to blackmail.

"Can't someone else handle it?" Tim asked.

Stamm failed to hide his surprise at Kerrigan's reluctance to prosecute these headline-grabbing cases.

"Your unit had Dupre's pimping case," the DA answered, "and you're already on the senator's case."

Kerrigan needed time to think, so he asked a question to divert Stamm.

"Are we even going after Dupre for Travis's murder? The evidence is skimpy. We don't have him anywhere near the scene . . . ."

"You've got that earring, you've got him arguing with Travis the day before the senator was murdered. Besides, it doesn't matter how much evidence we have in Travis's case. We'll piggyback the trials. Go after Dupre for Hayes first. That case is a walk in the park. Dupre was locked in with Wendell. We've got an eyewitness. The little prick brought the murder weapon with him to the conference. Proving intent and deliberation will be a snap."

"If it's that easy you don't need me for Hayes. A rookie DA could get a death sentence for a violent pimp under these circumstances."

"It's not that simple, Tim." Stamm leaned forward. "I've received a few calls from some very influential people. They told me that you've been offered a shot at Harold Travis's seat."

Kerrigan stifled a curse. He should have seen this coming.

"These cases will put you in the spotlight for months and, as you just told me, Wendell's case is open and shut--so simple that a rookie DA could get a death sentence. You couldn't ask for a better way to get exposure. You'll have national coverage."

Kerrigan wanted to turn down the case but what excuse would he give Jack? He couldn't tell him about Ally Bennett.