Proof Positive (2006) (17 page)

Chapter
21.

AMANDA JAFFE PLANNED ON VISITING JACOB COHEN AT THE JAIL after she finished her eleven o' clock hearing. The clock on her computer told her that she had time to get a latte before the hearing if she left right away. She looked out of her window at the dark clouds drifting over the West Hills. They looked threatening, but there was no rain predicted for today. She didn't trust the prediction, so she packed a small umbrella in her attachT case and headed for the coffee shop, which was catty-corner from the courthouse.

It was brisk out, but Amanda was preoccupied by thoughts of the legal argument she was going to make. She was asking for discovery of a policeman's notes, and the DA was arguing that the discovery statutes did not require the officer to turn them over to the defense. The facts were unique, and Amanda was not certain that she would win. She was thinking about a recent court of appeals case that contained language useful to both sides when she got in line to order her latte. She had just paid when she spotted Mike Greene sitting by himself at a back corner table, studying a position on a wallet chess set that he often carried in an inside suit pocket. Mike was a rated expert who had played on the USC chess team as an undergraduate and still competed on occasion. He kept a chess set on the credenza in his office and was known to work on his game when he had spare time.

Mike looked up from the chess position and saw Amanda watching him. He looked surprised at first. Then he broke into a grin and beckoned her over. Amanda realized that there was no way she could turn down the invitation without being incredibly rude, so she grabbed her latte and sat down across from the prosecutor.

Mike nodded at the attachT. Going to court?

I' ve got an eleven o' clock hearing in front of Peterson, a discovery motion. It's an interesting issue. It was discussed in a footnote in State v. Lorca, but the court didn't resolve the problem. It'll make for an interesting appellate issue if I lose the case. Amanda pointed at the chess set. What are you doing?

I'm playing in a small tournament this weekend and I'm working on my openings. I'm really rusty. All the young kids are using computers to learn the latest wrinkle these days and I'm afraid I'll get my butt kicked by some ten-year-old if I don't put in some time preparing.

Mike hesitated, then gathered his courage. What are you doing this weekend?

Amanda was embarrassed by the fact that she had no plans. I was just retained on the Cohen case, so I'll probably be at the office.

You' re not going to be at the office on Saturday night, are you?

Uh, no, why?

There's a French thriller at Cinema 21 that's supposed to be pretty intense. I was thinking of going.

What about the chess tournament?

We don't play at night. The games start early on Saturday morning. The second round begins around noon. I'll be through by four. We could grab an early dinner and catch the show.

There were often surprises in trials, and experienced trial lawyers knew how to hide their emotions from the jury so as not to prejudice their clients. Given their history, Amanda was certain that Mike was as nervous as she was, but anyone watching their conversation would never have known that Mike's and Amanda's hearts were thudding.

What do you say, Jaffe? Mike asked, smiling as if he could read her mind. The film's supposed to be good, you can pick the restaurant, and I promise to get you home before your father's curfew.

Amanda broke out laughing. Mike had a good sense of humor, and she did enjoy being with him. If she hadn't been such a wreck emotionally when they were dating, maybe

Okay, she heard herself say. Basta's is right down the street from the theater. I'll make a reservation.

Amanda glanced at the clock. Oops. I' ve got to run, she said, taking another quick sip of her latte before replacing the lid and grabbing her attachT. See you Saturday.

Doug Weaver's law office was on the outskirts of downtown Portland, on the third floor of a five-story building that was crumbling from neglect. The better offices in the building looked out on the freeway. Doug had a view of a brick wall. The airshaft between the buildings was too narrow to let in sunshine on sunny days, but rain streaked his window when it stormed, and made the sunless days even bleaker.

It had not always been this way. After law school, Doug had been hired as an associate at a respected medium-size firm that represented businesses. Doug's work centered on drafting and reviewing contracts. It had not taken him long to realize that he was not enjoying himself. The money was good, but the work was deadly dull, and the prospects for doing anything exciting were slim. Doug had come away from law school with an interest in criminal defense, but Karen had argued that he should take the job with the biggest paycheck. When he asked the partners if he could take on some criminal court appointments to get trial experience, they had explained that they couldn't spare his billable hours and, anyway, lawyers at their firm rarely went to court.

When Doug told Karen that he was thinking of quitting the firm, his wife adamantly opposed the move. She had a definite idea about the lifestyle she wanted to live, and Doug's salary factored into her plans. Doug's desire to leave his firm was the cause of constant friction in a marriage that was failing badly. He had given in for another painful year, to try to salvage their relationship. Finally, he had put his foot down by quitting without discussing his decision with his wife. How the marriage lasted a few more years after that was still a mystery.

Doug liked being on his own and handling the type of cases that excited him. His income went down dramatically the first year, but he'd been retained on several good cases in his second, and had started to make a decent living, though nowhere near what he'd been making before. Doug drank heavily when he was at the firm, to cope with the stress at work and home. As his practice improved, his drinking decreased. Then Raymond Hayes was sentenced to death. Losing the case and the problems in his marriage sent Doug into a downward spiral. He fell off the wagon and lost several good clients. When he couldn't afford the rent on his midtown office anymore, he'd moved to his current place, which is where he was practicing when the receptionist told him that Amanda Jaffe was in the waiting room.

What brings you to my neck of the woods? Doug asked when the receptionist showed Amanda into his office. He thought Amanda looked frazzled.

I have a problem you might be able to solve. Remember Jacob Cohen?

How could I forget?

I take it you haven't read the paper today or watched the news?

Don't tell me he's back in trouble?

Big trouble. He's charged with murder.

Doug felt sick as he remembered Jacob's confession and Hannah Graves's warning.

This morning his parents retained me to represent him.

Now he fought to hide his disappointment. He'd done a great job for Jacob won an impossible case and the Cohens hadn't even interviewed him.

I' ve just come from the jail. Jacob wants you to be his lawyer. He was very adamant on this point.

Doug could not help smiling. Let me guess. He explained, using quotes from the Bible, that you are going to burn in Hell for eternity because you are female.

Amanda nodded. Pretty nasty Bible quotes, at that.

And you' re here because ? Doug asked, hoping against hope that Amanda was going to ask him to team up with her.

I called Rabbi Cohen and explained the problem. He's aware of Jacob's hatred of women, but he still wants me on board. I want you to convince Jacob to keep me as his lawyer. I told the rabbi that Jacob trusts you and I always have a second chair when I try a death case. Are you interested?

I'm definitely interested. But what happens if I can't convince Jacob to keep you as his lawyer?

You did a hell of a job winning Jacob's failure-to-register case, and you have a lot of experience handling capital cases. If Jacob rejects my help, I'll recommend that the Cohens retain you to represent Jacob.

The offer terrified Doug and gave him hope at the same time, and for a moment he wasn't sure yet whether fear or hope would rule the day. Fear of failure kept him from jumping at the chance to be part of a high-profile case. He didn't know what he would do if Jacob Cohen was executed because of a mistake he made.

But what if he pulled it off? What if he helped save Jacob Cohen from a lethal injection, maybe even assisted in winning an acquittal? Would that make up for what he'd done to Raymond? No, he could never be absolved of that sin. But wouldn't he be giving himself back some of the pride he'd once had in himself and his work if he could give Jacob his life?

And there was the money. This was a capital case. His fee would be substantial. He would be able to pay off a lot of his debt and meet his other obligations. Hopefully, the publicity from the case would generate new business. If everything went well if Cohen was acquitted or received a life sentence he wouldn't be a loser anymore. Doug was tired of the pointed way his colleagues avoided talking about State v. Hayes when he was around. He'd bet that they talked about it plenty when he wasn't there. He didn't know whether they blamed him for the execution or felt sorry for him; either attitude was intolerable. A win in Cohen would help him regain the respect of his peers and his self-respect.

Doug knew that he had to do something with his life or he was just going to continue to sink under the weight of his own self-pity. He had to take a chance to save himself. It suddenly became clear to him that he would be turning his back on his future if he turned down Jacob's case.

Chapter
22.

KATE ROSS, THE IN-HOUSE INVESTIGATOR AT JAFFE, KATZ, LEHANE, and Brindisi, was five-seven and looked fit in a pair of tight jeans, a white man-tailored shirt, and a navy blue blazer. Kate, whose dark complexion, large brown eyes, and curly black hair made her seem vaguely Middle Eastern, had been recruited right out of Caltech into the computer crimes division of the Portland Police Bureau. When she'd grown bored sitting behind a desk, she had wangled a transfer to the narcotics squad. Her career was on the upswing until she was made the scapegoat in a police shooting and was forced to resign.

Kate's special talents with computers and detection had landed her a job as an investigator for Reed, Briggs, Stephens, Stottlemeyer, and Compton, Portland's largest law firm. While working there, Kate had talked Amanda Jaffe into representing Daniel Ames, the newest Reed, Briggs associate, when he was framed for the murder of a senior partner. After the two women cleared him, Kate and Daniel had come to work at Amanda's firm. Now they were living together.

The day she read the police reports in Art Prochaska's case, Kate Ross purchased a look at the confidential guest register of the Continental Motel from the Pakistani night clerk. After making a list of people who had been present on the night that Vincent Ballard was murdered, she had started interviewing the residents still living at the motel. Only a few of the people on the list were in the first night, so she'd returned to the motel several times to try to catch the other guests.

Unit 115 was on the ground floor across the court from Vincent Ballard's room. No one had been in during the other times Kate had visited, but tonight she got lucky. After she knocked twice, the door to the room was opened a few inches by a chubby, hard-used African-American woman who, Kate guessed, was probably in her early twenties. The woman was wearing a bright red tube top and a short, tight skirt. Her feet were bare, but Kate spotted flashy platform shoes next to a leg of the bed. The woman's hair was done in cornrows. Kate bet that a wig would cover them when the woman left the room.

Marsha Hastings? Kate asked.

Yeah, the woman answered, eyeing Kate with suspicion.

Kate showed her credentials. I'm a private investigator and I'd like to talk to you. I won't take up much of your time.

Talk about what?

I understand that you were living here when one of the residents who lived across the court was murdered.

I told the police I don't know nothing about that. I wasn't here when he got killed.

Kate let her shoulders sag and looked disappointed. I'm really coming up empty tonight, she sighed. My boss was certain that someone would collect the reward.

What reward? Hastings asked, suddenly much more interested.

I'm authorized to pay cash for reliable information, but no one seems to have seen or heard anything. Thank you for your time.

Wait a second, Hastings said as Kate turned to leave. I wasn't here, but I know something might help you. Who you say you working for?

Kate handed Hastings her business card. I'm employed by Frank Jaffe of the law firm of Jaffe, Katz, Lehane, and Brindisi. We represent the man who was arrested for the murder.

Hastings opened the door wide enough for Kate to squeeze through. The shades were drawn, but a lamp on a night table and a TV provided some light. Kate could smell tomato soup. A Campbell's can was standing on the dresser next to a pot that was balanced on a hot plate. A girl of five or six, dressed in pajamas, was sitting on the floor in front of the TV. A bowl of soup sat on the floor in front of her. Next to it was a plate covered with Ritz crackers. The girl cast a quick, uninterested glance at Kate, then shifted her eyes back to the set.