Part 38 (1/2)
”Would you prosecute, Muriel?”
She looked herself over, still without a st.i.tch on, and said, ”I think I'd have to disqualify myself.”
”Seriously,” he said, ”would you call that a crime?”
”I think it's wrong, Larry. Really wrong. And I'm not going to let you testify you found that cameo in Squirrel's pocket when you didn't.”
As long as he'd known her, he'd never been certain how firmly Muriel stood on principle. She meant what she said. But she'd never fully remove self-interest from her calculations. If she let him fib, he'd always have something on her.
He thought through the alternatives. With Arthur's agreement, they had given the cameo back to Luisa's daughters in June, so there was no way to print it now to prove it had been in Squirrel's hands.
”What if I admit I lied before?” he asked.
”That's moral turpitude on the job, Larry. They fire your a.s.s. And you'll have to hold a farewell party for your pension. And you still wouldn't have a chain of evidence putting the cameo in Squirrel's pocket unless the copper who stole it gets up there to admit that, which won't happen unless he doesn't like his pension either. We'd be screwed anyway.”
”How so?”
”You'd be admitting you lied to get a conviction, right?”
”To convict a multiple murderer.”
”Then who's to say you wouldn't do it again? You're the only witness to a lot of what went on between Rommy and you at the station house in October '91. Next time around, Arthur's going to say that confession was coerced somehow. All we'll have is a perjuring police officer to say no.”
”We lose the confession?”
”Good chance. And the cameo. And ruin you. I mean, worst-case here, Larry, if we admit you lied about the cameo, and somebody figures out you s.h.i.+t-canned d.i.c.kerman's report, the U.S. Attorney's Office will probably prosecute you for obstruction of justice.”
”The feds?”
”We're in federal court, Larry.”
”s.h.i.+t.” They indicted cops for sport over there, part of the never-ending conflict between federal and state law enforcement.
”We can't try this case again, Larry.”
He hated this stuff, the law”and Muriel when she was its mouthpiece. He squeezed his arms around his knees and asked whether they could make a deal with Gandolph for a long prison term.
”That's the best option,” she said. ”But what was it you called Arthur? Crusader Rabbit? Crusader thinks he has an innocent client. Crusader's probably going to hang tough and take him to trial.”
”What happens then?”
She didn't answer. Larry, suddenly on all fours, gripped her arm.
”I don't want to hear about time served, Muriel, or anything like that. I don't want to have to look at this guy on the street. I'd rather take my chances in court, lose my pension, obstruction, whatever. This is me to you, Muriel. I mean it. Promise me you'll stand in there.”
”Larry.”
”Promise me, d.a.m.n it. What's the name of the Greek guy pus.h.i.+ng the rock up the hill and never getting to the top? Sisyphus? I'm not Sisyphus. That was a curse, Muriel. They did that to that guy as a curse. And that's what you'd be doing to me.”
”I'm trying to save you, Larry.”
”Is that what you call it?” he asked as he grabbed his clothes.
But he'd suddenly lost her attention. She was far off again. It took him a second to realize that she thought she'd found the way to do that.
Chapter 40.
August 24, 2001 Heroin THE RECEPTIONISTS AT O'Grady, Steinberg, Marconi and Horgan recognized Gillian by now. She walked in with a wave and moved through the pale halls of the law firm, receiving the tepid smiles of those who either didn't know her or knew her too well. As she'd predicted, Arthur had not made a choice of companion popular among his partners. Rather than respond, Gillian kept her eye on a new serpentine-chain ankle bracelet she had bought this morning. During her lifetime, her feelings about this fas.h.i.+on accessory had varied. Her mother had told her ankle bracelets were trashy, which meant Gillian insisted on wearing one throughout her teens, and had eschewed it thereafter as juvenile. But in the late summer, when even she had acquired some semblance of a tan and could go without hose, the thin chain had a promising sensuality against her bare skin. Slender evidence of something. It reminded her for indeterminate reasons of Arthur. She rapped on the doorsill of his office and craned her head about the metal frame.
”Dinnertime?” she asked.
In his chair, his back was to her and his face lowered. She thought he must have been reading, but when he revolved she could see he'd been crying. Arthur had been as good as his word. He wept all the time. She felt no alarm whatsoever until he spoke a single word.
”Heroin?” he asked her.
He said it several more times, but she never found her voice to reply.
”This morning,” he said, ”Muriel made an emergency motion before Harlow to reopen discovery and depose you.”
”Me?”
”You. The motion said you appear to have information favorable to the defense. It was so ridiculous and low, I refused to upset you by mentioning it. I came through the courtroom door firing hot ammo. 'Cheap.' 'Theatrical.' 'Unethical.' 'Sc.u.mmy.' Words I'd never used in public about another lawyer. The idea of trying to make this case personal! And finally, when I was done carrying on, Muriel asked the judge for ten minutes and handed me six affidavits, all from people who sold you heroin or saw you buying it. Even so, I wasn't going to take the word of smack wh.o.r.es. But I met two of them this afternoon, Gillian, face-to-face. Both had kicked. One's a drug counselor. I mean, they weren't happy to say it. They didn't have a beef with you”one of them had showed up in your courtroom years ago and you gave her probation, and she had a d.a.m.ned good idea why. I mean, they were just telling the truth. Telling me the truth about you. Can you imagine how that felt? I mean, Jesus f.u.c.king Christ, Gillian, heroin?”
There was probably no word for this exactly. She'd taken a seat in a tweed armchair, but she hadn't any idea how she'd made her way there. She felt as if she was on an elevator that had dropped dozens of stories and then slammed to a halt. She'd descended at high velocity and had been flattened. For a trifling instant, she'd felt an impulse to deny what he'd said, which made her despair even more over herself.
”Arthur,” she said. ”It makes everything so much worse, Arthur.”
”It certainly does.”
”For me. It makes everything so much more disgraceful. And I'd had all I could bear, Arthur. You know that. You understand that much.”
”Gillian, I mean, this was the first thing I asked you. You told me you were sober at the time of Rommy's trial.”
”I answered your question. I told you I hadn't been drinking to excess. I was a witness, Arthur, an educated one. I answered the question.”
”And then? Some time in the last four months, you didn't think”I mean, don't you realize what a f.u.c.king problem this is legally?”
”Legally?”
”For Rommy. Legally. He was tried before a heroin addict.”
”He's not the first defendant whose trial judge was impaired. The case was appealed, Arthur. Twice. There have been endless post-conviction proceedings. No court has ever found anything near reversible errors.”
”And what about the Const.i.tution?”