Читать книгу Murder in Plain Sight - Marta Perry - Страница 12

THE ROOM ALLOTTED TO lawyer/client meetings was typical of such places—cement-block walls, a high barred window and a bare wooden table bolted to the floor, flanked by two chairs. The wire-meshed window in the door allowed a police officer to peer in on the conference but hear nothing.

Trey Morgan had walked with her through the maze of corridors. He’d seemed to know, or at least been recognized by, most of the people they encountered, and he’d had an easy, laid-back manner for everyone but her. She’d half expected him to try to stay with her, not that she’d have allowed it, but he hadn’t, merely saying he’d be outside in the truck when she finished with Thomas.

Jessica tried not to fidget as she waited for the client, but she couldn’t forget that Thomas Esch had been accused of beating a woman to death. Any normal woman would feel a sliver of anxiety in this situation. The table was only about three feet wide. If he decided to come after her, how long would it take the guard to get to her?

Nonsense. She’d certainly confronted worse during the three years she’d spent as an assistant D.A., prosecuting domestic-abuse cases. She’d burned out on that, finally, unable to look at another battered woman, knowing chances were good that the woman would change her mind about prosecuting at the last minute and go right back to her abuser, maybe ending up dead.

There’d been value in the work, certainly, but nobody could do it forever. Her father had been relieved that she had come to her senses, as he put it. From the day she passed the bar, he’d been ready to set up a position for her with a good firm. There’d also been his unspoken opinion that she wasn’t tough enough to deal with criminal cases. Unspoken, maybe, but it had come through. Too bad he hadn’t had the son he’d always wanted to follow his footsteps.

The door creaked, startling Jessica into an involuntary flinch. It opened. Two burly guards dwarfed the boy they ushered into the room.

At her first glimpse of Thomas Esch, the apprehension slipped away. He was nothing more than a boy, with frightened blue eyes in a round face and blond hair that looked as if someone had put a bowl on his head and cut around it.

She stood, giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Hello, Thomas. I’m Jessica Langdon. I’m the lawyer Mrs. Morgan hired to defend you.” She held out her hand.

Thomas looked at the outstretched hand as if it held a trap and then cautiously shook it. His palm was hard with calluses, and her opinion pivoted again. He might look like a boy, but he was strong as a man.

Strong enough to beat a woman to death? Thomas was innocent until proved guilty in the eyes of the law, if not the community. He deserved that same assumption from his attorney.

She sat again, nodding to the chair opposite her. Still looking uncertain, Thomas slid onto the seat, moving back as if to get as far away from her as possible.

She waited until the door closed behind the guards, its slam resonating through the bare chamber. She focused on the client, keeping her mind away from the locked door.

“Thomas, do you understand that Mrs. Morgan wants to help you?”

He nodded, eyes still very wide, not blinking.

“Good. She’s helping you by retaining—hiring—me to represent you with the law.”

He looked down at his hands. “Mrs. Morgan is very kind.” He swallowed, Adam’s apple moving.

At least he could talk. His speech was formal, like that of the young pair in the buggy, and she remembered Trey’s doubts over her ability to represent the boy when she knew nothing of his culture.

That was ridiculous. The law was the law, no matter what the defendant’s background.

“Thomas, I want you to understand that anything you say to me is private. I can’t tell anyone, and you can trust me.”

His only answer was to stare at his hands—big hands, bony and strong. Strong enough to kill. Did he get any of this? She couldn’t be sure, and her frustration rose.

“Mrs. Morgan wants me to help you,” she tried again. “But I can only do that if you talk to me about what happened.”

He looked at her face then away again. “My parents—they would not want me to be involved with the law.”

Trey had said something like that, but she’d disregarded it. Apparently she should have paid more attention. “Mrs. Morgan spoke with them about hiring me, and they agreed. And I’m afraid it’s too late, anyway. You are already involved. The police believe you killed Cherry.”

There was no mistaking the emotion behind his expression now: fear. She expected a denial, but he was silent.

“Did you and Cherry see a lot of each other?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes at parties she would talk to me.”

“Were you dating? Did you go out just with her?”

He shook his head, the muscles in his face working.

“You were found alone with her. Did you go out together that night? Saturday night?”

Again he shook his head.

“Thomas, you were found with her. You must have gone out together, or how did you get there?”

“The other lawyer. He said not to talk to anyone. Not to answer questions.”

“He’s not representing you now. I am.”

His face took on a mulish expression. “Mr. Frost said not to talk to anyone. Not to answer questions. I know him.”

The implication was clear. Thomas didn’t know her. He didn’t trust her. Would it do any good if she could arrange for Mrs. Morgan to talk with him? She could imagine Trey’s reaction to that.

“Suppose I talk to Mr. Frost. If he tells you it’s all right, will you answer my questions?”

The big hands tightened briefly, then relaxed. He nodded.

She blew out a breath. Patience. Obviously that was what was required just now. Plenty of patience.

“All right, then. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll bring Mr. Frost to vouch for me.” She stood, repressing the instinct that wanted to demand answers, to move, to get on with the case. She could do nothing without her client’s trust.

He looked up at her, his eyes as wide and innocent as a child’s. “They took away my clothes.”

“I’m sorry. You will get them back, if…when you are released.”

“It is not proper. For an Amish man to be dressed this way.” He touched the front of the orange jumpsuit he wore. “Not proper,” he repeated.

“People who are being detained by the police are required to dress that way. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“If you told them I need my clothes…”

“It wouldn’t do any good. They won’t change their minds.”

He just stared at her, eyes wide with expectation. She’d said he could trust her, but she couldn’t do the first thing he asked of her. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation he was in.

And just as clearly, she didn’t understand him. Trey had been right about her. She didn’t know enough to defend this boy.

TREY SAT IN THE TRUCK, waiting for the Langdon woman to come out of the red sandstone building that was the county jail. With those circular Norman towers, it looked more like a castle. Its builders had intended it to impress everyone who looked at it with the weight and majesty of the law. No doubt it intimidated a kid like Thomas.

With the radio on, he was treated to the views of the local station’s public, conveyed through the station’s call-in show. Opinion was running high—all of it against Thomas, it seemed. There were always those who harbored a prejudice against the Amish, just because they were different. Thomas’s arrest was feeding that feeling.

He switched the radio off. Neither Jessica Lang don nor his mother had a good grasp of the situation.

Trying to explain to his mother was useless. She wasn’t swayed by facts. She believed in Thomas, and she would do what she felt was right.

Jessica wasn’t in this for idealistic reasons, however. Worry tied his stomach in a knot. If Jessica thought this the sort of sensational case that would make her reputation, who knew what tactics she might resort to?

Was she that kind of person? His immediate impression had been of someone pretty hard-boiled, with her elegant clothing and her cool manner. But there had been a brief glimpse or two of someone not so easily categorized.

He didn’t think he liked that. He wanted to know where he was with people. And she’d challenged his opinion of what was best for his mother—he knew he didn’t like that. His mother could be devastated by this case, no matter how it turned out. Would Jessica even care?

His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he deliberately forced himself to relax. Since Dad’s death, he’d been responsible—for his mother, for the family-owned businesses and rental properties, for all the people in the township who depended on the Morgan family. His thoughts flickered briefly to the office. He’d had to cancel a couple of appointments today, and no doubt there’d be more of that in coming days.

He couldn’t go to the office, deal with the day-to-day running of the family properties, handle the investments his grandfather and father had entrusted to his care and still deal with the ramifications of his mother’s interest in defending Thomas. So Morgan Enterprises would have to run along without him until this was settled.

In one way, he’d been preparing all his life for his role. It had governed his choice of summer jobs, his business major, even his Wharton MBA. He’d just never expected it to come so soon. He wasn’t ready. Maybe he’d never have been ready to lose his father, but to lose him that way…

Why, Dad? Why did you do it? How could the father I thought I knew do something like that?

He’d asked that question a thousand times. He’d never gotten an answer.

His gaze, idly scanning the street in front of the jail, suddenly sharpened. That dark blue van bore the logo of the local television station. The building entrance was out of his view from here, but the chance that the news crew camped out at the jail for any reason other than to cover the murder was nil.

He shoved the door open and slid out, worry and irritation edging his nerves. He reached the corner and stopped, stunned. Not only had the news crew clustered in front of the entrance, so had probably thirty or forty other people. A couple of them carried signs, leaving no doubt as to their opinion on Thomas’s guilt.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the television news reporter was busy interviewing them. Anyone who hadn’t already thought it a good idea to voice their uninformed opinion would probably be inspired by the sight on the five-o’clock news.

The crowd blocked the steps. Unless someone warned Jessica, she’d walk out right into the arms of the television news reporter. Was it coincidence the news people were waiting at this precise moment? He doubted it. He moved faster. If he could get into the building, find Jessica, take her out another exit—

Too late. The heavy door in the front of the building moved, and Jessica came out. In an instant the reporter pounced, calling Jessica’s name.

Her name. He hadn’t even known that until she’d arrived. They’d been tipped off, then. By Jessica? If she wanted attention, there was no better way to get it.

The crowd, alerted by the reporter’s question, closed in, waving their signs. He had a glimpse of a startled face through the narrow glass slit in the door. It quickly vanished, to find help, he hoped.

Trey elbowed his way through the mass of bodies with murmured apologies. Ridiculous that at a moment like this his mother’s training in proper manners held. Except that in Mom’s universe, people didn’t yell obscenities to express their opinions. If he could reach Jessica before she said anything that would focus attention on his mother…

Jessica seemed to be holding her own. He shoved his way between two burly bodies. She’d looked surprised when the reporter ambushed her, he had to say that, but she could have been faking it.

“Come on, Ms. Langdon. A Philadelphia lawyer doesn’t just show up here. Who hired you?” The reporter had the looks of a movie starlet and the aggressive instincts of a puma. She thrust the microphone in Jessica’s face.

“Every defendant is entitled to the best possible representation. I’m sure you’ll agree.” Jessica’s professional manner seemed unruffled.

“You want us to believe that an Amish family knew enough to bring in a topflight Philadelphia firm?” The reporter’s voice expressed disbelief. “The public has a right to know who brought you here.”

Trey pushed his way closer. If she mentioned his mother—

“Right now I’m more concerned with the rights of my client.” Jessica smiled at the camera as if she did this every day. “I don’t think anything will be gained by my discussing the case when I’ve hardly begun to assess the facts.”

“Everyone knows the facts. He’s a filthy murderer, and you’re trying to get him off.” The yelled words came from the far side of the crowd, and the mass of people seemed to surge forward.

Trey shoved his way through and caught Jessica’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“Mr. Morgan.” The reporter sounded like a woman who’d just been given an unexpected gift. “What is your interest in this case?”

“None at all.” Taking his lead from Jessica, he smiled blandly. “I’m just giving Ms. Langdon a ride, that’s all.”

He turned to go, clasping Jessica’s arm firmly, but the mass of people had closed in behind them. Push through them? Retreat into the jail?

Even as he thought it, the heavy door opened. “What’s going on out here?” The cop had a deep voice to match his authoritative manner. “You people can’t block access to the jail.”

Trey seized his opportunity, piloting Jessica through the crowd and toward the pickup. She hurried to keep up with his long strides. Finally she planted her feet, forcing him to come to a stop.

He glared at her. “You eager to do another round with the television reporter? Let’s go.”

“The police are keeping them busy. And it looks as if someone is waiting for us.” She nodded toward the truck.

A figure dressed in Amish black stood motionless. Ezra Burkhalter, one of the three ministers of the local congregation, apparently unnoticed as yet by the reporters. What was he doing here?

“Ezra.” He nodded, hoping the reporter wouldn’t look their way. “Something I can do for you?”

“I came to this place to see Thomas Esch, but the officers would not allow it.” Ezra’s narrow, bony face seemed to grow more rigid as he looked at Jessica. “This is the English lawyer you have brought down on us.”

It would be too much to hope that every Amish person in the county hadn’t heard by now that his mother had hired a lawyer to defend Thomas. But the Amish weren’t likely to be chattering about that to outsiders.

“This is Jessica Langdon. She’ll be representing Thomas in the English court. Ms. Langdon, this is Ezra Burkhalter. He is one of the ministers of Thomas’s congregation.”

“I’m glad to meet—”

“It is not fitting.” Ezra didn’t raise his voice, but it rasped like a saw blade, cutting through Jessica’s words. “The boy has brought disgrace to his family, and now you would have this exposed in an English court for all to see.”

Jessica stiffened. “Mr. Burkhalter, my only job is to give Thomas the legal defense to which he is entitled.”

“You can do nothing for him. Nothing.” The anger in Ezra’s face was unmistakable. “Stay out of this, and leave us alone.”

He turned and walked away. Jessica stared after him, looking stunned.

The television crew, freeing themselves from the crowd, hurried toward them. Trey hustled Jessica inside the truck. Climbing in himself, he slammed the door on a shouted question and pulled away from the curb, narrowly missing the cameraman who’d darted into the street. A glimpse in the rearview mirror showed him the television reporter trotting down the street after Ezra. Lots of luck. She wouldn’t get anything out of him.

They rounded the corner and Jessica let out an audible breath. “Well. That was…odd. I didn’t expect it.”

She sounded genuine, but how could he be sure? “You mean the television people, the crowd or Ezra Burkhalter?”

“Any of them. All of them. I guess the Burkhalter man particularly. Why is he angry that I’m here? I’d think he’d be grateful that Thomas has someone to defend him.”

Trey shrugged, trying to get rid of the tension in his shoulders. “The Amish don’t want to find themselves in the news. There’s prejudice enough against them without that. They believe in living separate, and they don’t go to the law.”

“Thomas said something like that, but in this case the law has come to them. I’ll do the best I can for Thomas.”

“I don’t think Ezra Burkhalter will see it that way.”

Her mouth set as she considered that. “If all the Amish react that way, it will make the situation more difficult.”

Difficult enough to make her go away? He was tempted to paint a black picture, just to achieve that, but he couldn’t.

“Not all. I’m sure there will be those who welcome your help. Thomas’s family, certainly.”

She nodded, brushing a wing of auburn hair back from her face. “I suppose. I certainly didn’t expect the crowd at the jail. Is there really that much prejudice against the Amish?”

“Not so much out in the country, where people know them.” He tried to answer fairly, but the Amish were such a constant part of his life that it was hard to see them as an outsider would. “They’re different, and plenty of misconceptions float around among people who don’t know them.”

He’d known there would be strong feelings about the ugliness of the crime and the Amish connection, but he hadn’t expected a mob at the jail, either. If people were this worked up now, what would it be like by the time the case came to trial?

He drove automatically, his mind turning the situation at the county jail over in his mind. It still rankled, having the television people there exactly when Jessica would be coming out. It was too pat.

“Were you really surprised by the news crew?” He put the question abruptly, not sure how much good it would do. If she’d tipped them off, she’d hardly admit it.

He felt her gaze on him and flicked a glance in her direction. The blue eyes had widened.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be surprised?”

“You wouldn’t be if you were the one who told them you’d be there.”

“Told them—that’s ridiculous!” Her voice rose. “I’m not in the habit of headline-hunting.”

“The reporter knew your name. That means that someone told her you were going to represent Thomas.”

“I wasn’t that someone.” Her voice grew icy. “I understand that you want to protect your mother from any unpleasantness, but I’m not your enemy. All I want is to do my job for my client.”

He shot another look at her as he turned onto the road that would lead them out of town. “If you didn’t tip off the news people, who did?”

“Ask yourself that question,” Jessica said tartly. “It seems to me the leak was far more likely to come from your end of things than mine. My office would have no interest in tipping off the press at this point. Does anyone else know your mother was hiring an attorney for Thomas?”

A good question, and one he didn’t have an answer to. “Who knows? My mother is not exactly a model of discretion, as you may have noticed.”

“I found your mother delightful.” The frost was back in her voice.

“Try being responsible for her and see how delightful it is.” He muttered the words and was instantly sorry. He didn’t need to be confiding in this woman, of all people. “She may have told any number of people. And there are people in Bobby’s office who might think it worth a tip to the paper.” He lifted an eyebrow. “The same might be said of your office, I suppose.”

“You suppose wrong. Any hint of indiscretion in an employee of the firm would lead to immediate dismissal.”

There was a note in her tone that he couldn’t quite read. “Sounds like your boss runs a tight ship.”

Her hands clenched on her lap, then eased, as if she made a deliberate effort not to show a reaction. “He does,” she said shortly. He felt her gaze on his face. “You’d better get used to the publicity. There may come a time when I’ll have to talk to the press. Thomas is going to need all the goodwill he can get.”

“If and when that happens, I’d advise you to keep my mother’s name out of it.”

“If you wanted to keep attention away from your family’s role in the case, you shouldn’t have interfered with my handling of that reporter. I was perfectly capable of dealing with her myself.”

His mood wasn’t improved by knowing that she was probably right. He’d acted on instinct, just as he so often accused his mother of doing.

Maybe it was time to change the subject. “How did you make out with Thomas?”

Her frown looked worried. “Not well. I’ll have to talk with this Mr. Frost as soon as possible. Thomas trusts him, and he’s not going to open up to me until Frost assures him it’s all right.”

“That’s easily done.”

He drew the car to the side of the road and stopped, then pulled out his cell phone and touched the number for Leo Frost’s private line. In a moment’s time he’d set up an appointment for Jessica for the next morning. When he ended the call, he realized that she was looking at him with more than a little annoyance in her face.

“What?” he said, answering the look. “You said you had to meet with him.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to make an appointment for me. Or to interfere in my handling of the case.”

“Interfering? I thought I was being helpful.” He gave her the smile that women usually found disarming. It didn’t seem to have that effect on Jessica.

“I don’t need your help. I’d hoped I’d made that clear.”

He found he was gritting his teeth. “You’ve made your position clear enough. Now you’d better understand mine. As long as my mother insists on being involved in this case, I am, too. So you’d better get used to it, Counselor. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”