No Team To Root For (25) "Well, your Honor." said Miles. "I'll tell you what I think!" "I don't care what you think!" Stoner was on his feet. "I'm telling you. Don't run up a bill with me that you can't pay!" While Miles and Mason were glaring at each other, Walt said qui-etly, "Miles, read over the deposition and confer with your client." Miles took a deep breath and turned to Walt. "I'll need a few days." "You have until Wednesday noon." said Stoner. "At that time we either dismiss the jury and accept the State's offer or we go back to court and you take your chances." Mason Stoner sat down in his large chair. "The decision is yours." * Miles left the room rapidly but Ivers and Stoner remained. Both were seated and both were silent. Finally the prosecutor asked, "Well, Mason. Do you think he bought it?" Stoner stared blankly at the closed door. "I hope so, Walt. I sure as hell hope so!" * XXXIV George and Barrett were seated in front of Barrett's TV, match-ing wits with the celebrities on Hollywood Squares. Mickey Rooney was about to give his opinions on marriage when Miles sped through the door past the two policemen, and almost flew into the family room. "Gentlemen. Good afternoon." He took off his jacket and care-fully laid it over the back of Barrett's easy chair. "Hello, Miles." George and Barrett spoke in unison then both stood to greet the agitated attorney. "Would one of you please turn off the TV? We have to talk." Miles said, then sat down heavily. "Sounds pretty ominous, Miles." said George. Barrett turned off the TV and then he and George sat down on the sofa staring at Miles, waiting for an explanation. Miles stood up quickly and began to pace between the entryway and the stereo cabinet. Then he stopped abruptly and faced George. "We have a very serious problem." Miles as usual chose his words carefully. "The prosecutor has come up with someone who --- " Now he turned to Barrett, who was confused. "Barrett, there is no easy way for me to say this. Someone claims to have seen you shoot Jodi Bartless." There was an unusually long silence. George and Barrett looked at each other. Then they both looked at Miles. Barrett stood slowly. "That isn't true, Miles." He spoke softly. His voice got progressively louder. "I didn't kill her, Goddamn it! It's a fucking lie! It's --- " Barrett could not finish his sentence. He began to sob uncontrollably. George put his hand on Barrett's shoulder, holding it there until the eye doctor's composure returned. Barrett's gaze remained fo-cused on Miles. "I --- I'm sorry," stammered Barrett. Then he and George both sat down on the sofa. A dog began to bark outside, temporarily distracting Miles' train of thought. When the barking stopped, he loosened his tie and re-counted the entire story concerning Morris Hartman and Sam In-gles. Upon hearing Sam's name Barrett's mouth dropped open and his body stiffened. "Sam Ingles is a fucking class A jerk!" "They both sound like fucking class A jerks." said Miles. "But they do corroborate each other's story. And in essence, they are saying that you are guilty of murder." "Miles!" George and Barrett both yelled at the same time. Miles put his hands up palms out. "I said the prosecution had an eyewitness." He looked Barrett in the eye. "I never said I believed him." "I guess I shouldn't bring up Aaron Claypool --- right?" said Bar-rett timidly. "Right!" George responded quickly. "I know all about him. And it's a dead issue --- no pun intended." Barrett only nodded. He could find no humor in the comment. "Miles." George rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Why would this Marvin --- " "Morris." corrected the lawyer. "Whatever!" George waved the word away. "Why would --- Morris lie?" "Good question, George." Miles gave his manicure a brief in-spection. "But don't forget. Hartman is a low life crook. Probably a low life liar as well. Why would he lie about this? I don't know --- unless --- " "Unless --- " interrupted George, " --- this is some sort of a --- set up!" Miles smiled and nodded. "I thought of that." Barrett's glance jumped back and forth between the two. George walked over to Miles. "I know it's far fetched, but isn't it possible that Ivers, aware of how badly things are going for the State, could --- well --- could hire this Hartman to lie?" George sat down on the arm of the chair. "It's been done before." "Lie --- perjury --- hmmm --- " Miles nodded. "As I said," continued the detective, "it is a bit far fetched." "Maybe not so far fetched at that." Miles stood up, put his hands behind his back and started to pace again. Barrett rubbed his eyes until they burned, then ran his fingers through his thin black hair. "Do you guys really think a county prosecutor would stoop so low as to resort to this.?" "Why not? Victory at all costs!" He turned back to Barrett. "I told you that anything is possible." "What about Ingles?" asked George, as he sat down in the easy chair. Miles rubbed his hands together and bit down on his lower lip. "Supposedly this deputy only repeated what Hartman told him." "I told you." Barrett was raging inside. "Sam Ingles is a jerk!" "Being a jerk and being responsive to committing perjury are not exactly in the same ball park." Miles stopped pacing and sat down next to Barrett. "Where was the sheriff --- what's his name?" asked George. "Saltz." answered Barrett. "Darrell Saltz." "Saltz claims he was out of town." said Miles. "At least that's what he told me when Barrett was arrested." He stood up again and faced George. "Well, gentlemen, it boils down to this. If Morris is telling the truth we are in deep shit!" "Miles!" Barrett jumped to his feet. "However --- " Miles gently pushed his client back onto the sofa. " --- if Barrett is telling the truth --- and we have to believe he is, then Hartman and Ingles are both lying." After several minutes of silence, Barrett jumped up. His eyes were open wide and he grinned broadly. He could feel his pulse race as he spoke. "Maybe you two could confront Walt Ivers and act like you know he is guilty of this --- set up. Then out of fear, he confesses, and I get an acquittal." George and Miles both stared at Barrett in amazement. "Barrett." said George. "You have been watching too many Perry Mason reruns." Now George smiled. "Good in theory --- bad in reality." "Right!" added Miles. "We have absolutely no evidence to back that up. We must be very careful with that sort of accusation." He sat down. "Good thinking though." "Miles, you do think I'm innocent --- I mean that's what you said." "Yeah. I suppose I have to --- don't I?" Miles' sarcasm turned to anger. "But Christ Almighty, Barrett! You leave your Goddamn fingerprints all over her apartment. You leave your Goddamn watch for everyone to see. It was like you wanted the whole fucking world to know you were at Jodi Bartless' that night!" Miles and George exchanged concerned looks. Barrett closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists. His reaction was obvious pain. "So." asked George, shifting gears. "Where do we stand with all this new shit staring us in the face?" "Well --- " Miles thought a moment before he answered. " --- considering that the prosecution has done a lot to help our cause, I still think we have a slight edge." "What about Dr. Napier's testimony?" Barrett decided to enter the discussion. "A mild setback." said Miles reflectively. "But even with that, I still think we're ahead." "I think so too." George nodded in agreement. "But we still have a fight ahead of us!" Miles waved his forefin-ger in the air. "I think we can pull it out, but it won't be easy!" "So." asked George. "What's the game plan?" Miles rubbed his palms together and inspected his manicure again. He then waited a moment before he spoke, looking at George. "First of all, I want you to verify that Hartman lives where he says he does." He licked his lips deep in thought. "Then see if the apartments do look enough alike to get them confused." George took out a pencil and a notebook and began to write. "The apartments are very similar." interjected the defendant. "Also," said the attorney ignoring Jessop's comment. "make sure Saltz was out of town. We only have his word on that." Miles wrinkled his brow and rubbed his chin. Then he added, "And see just how much dirt you can dig up on Morris Harman." "What about Sam Ingles?" George looked up from his notes. "Sam Ingles is a nothing deputy." said Miles. "Sam Ingles is a fucking class A jerk!" said Barrett. "Maybe Morris called him. Maybe not!" Again Miles ignored his client's remark. "Maybe Sam is telling the truth. Maybe not! But if we can discredit Hartman, I don't think we'll have to worry about Ingles." "You think Ingles will get scared?" George put away his note-book and pencil. "Like a goldfish in a bowl of piranha!" The attorney smiled. "Miles," said Barrett, "I still think you should --- " "You want me to put you on the stand." Miles and George again exchanged a quick glance. "I'm not really sure I want to, but --- how did you know I was go-ing to say that?" "Elementary my dear --- never mind!" Miles shook his head then looked hard at Barrett. "I told you. Whenever I put a client on the witness stand, weird unpredictable things happen." "Well," Barrett continued to press. "I think it's an action we should at least consider." "Really?" asked Miles. "And just how many cases have you tried?" "Miles." said George. "I've been doing some quick thinking." "And?" Miles looked curiously at the detective. "I know you're the legal genius here, but maybe Barrett has a point." Barrett was taken aback. He started to speak then changed his mind. A puzzled look spread over Miles' face. He nodded slowly. "Go ahead, George. I'm listening. And I do, as you know, value your opinion." George stood up and put his hands in his pockets. Now it was his turn to pace. "I think trying to base the outcome of this trial on merely discrediting these two guys might be risky. We need some-thing more tangible. Something we can be in better control of." "Go on." Miles continued to look intensely at the detective. "Play with my mind awhile." "If this Hartman is as shady as I think he is, discrediting him is fine. But it would be even more compelling, and far more effective, to put Barrett on the stand and let the jury compare the testimony of a bum to the testimony of a professional." He turned to Barrett and smiled. "Who is the jury more apt to believe? A sleazy scum-bag who is undoubtedly lying --- for whatever reason, or an up-standing member of the professional community? A small time hood with nothing better to do, or an honest law-abiding citizen, wrongly accused and fighting for his life?" Miles and Barrett stared at George for several seconds. Then Miles got up and he and George faced each other. Miles nodded again. "George, you may have a point. I will reconsider." Now both men smiled. "Miles." added Barrett excitedly. "I know this is going to work. You won't be sorry." "I'm sorry already!" Miles snapped. "So," asked Barrett innocently, "do we have to prepare --- or --- ?" "You bet your ass we prepare!" Miles put on his jacket. "Tomor-row morning George and I will be over and we can discuss your testimony. If I do decide to put you on the stand I want no sur-prises while you're up there." Miles shook his finger at his "Do you understand? Questions and answers must be rehearsed." Barrett nodded. His excitement suddenly turned to fear. "Jesus, Miles! This could be really tough!" "No shit! What do you think I've been saying for the past hour?" "Miles, you about ready to leave?" George had his hand on the doorknob. "I've got all this work and --- " "Yes, George. You have about --- " Miles looked at his Rolex. " --- thirty-five hours." As they were opening the front door, Miles turned back to Barrett and added, "Write down everything you can remember about this case --- every detail. I don't care how minute it is. Leave nothing to memory. We will do the best we can with what we have." Then as an afterthought, he turned to George and said, "The bad part of all this is, there are only three of us. God knows how many there are of them!" * The hotel was unusually quiet except for an occasional opening or closing of a door and the steady humming of the icemaker in the hallway right outside room 810. It was eleven thirty pm. Miles Gar-rison had just taken his shower and was in his silk pajamas ready for bed. He turned off the TV, grateful that the only mention of the Jessop case was referred to as sketchy. Miles found himself becom-ing more and more disenchanted with TV in general and the late news in particular. He saw it as lacking in content and primarily tab-loid. "Sensationalism sells." He said it aloud to himself. He had his hand on the lightswitch when there was a soft knock at the door. Using the peephole, he saw George Archer standing in the hallway. He opened the door at once. "George. It's late." Miles gestured to his room. "But do come in." "I know it's late. But I wanted to give you this information before tomorrow." The detective handed his mentor a folder, came into the room, and sat down in the chair next to the window. "It's not much --- but for what it's worth, Morris Hartman has a record a mile long: B and E, robbery, assault --- you name it." Miles sat on the edge of the bed and thumbed through the papers. "I think this could come in handy. Yes, I will definitely use it." "I'm sorry I don't have more, but --- " "This is fine. I had almost given up on you. I must be getting old or tired --- or both." "Well, Miles, it's been an unusually long day. I'm going to bed." "Goodnight, George. And nice work." XXXV "Will Morris Hartman please take the stand." Morris looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties. He was short --- maybe five feet six or seven and obese --- probably close to three hundred pounds. His suit was wrinkled and his brown loafers were badly scuffed. He was bald except for a small amount of gray hair on the sides that he kept slicked back. Barrett Jessop thought his double chin and loose jowls made his re-semblance to a bulldog uncanny. He had no eyebrows and with his small and narrow eyes, Morris Hartman could never pass for any-thing other than what he was: A seedy, slovenly, invidious small time hood. After he was sworn in he told the court his name and his occupa-tion, which for now was collecting unemployment. As he sat in the witness chair, he continually wiped his sweaty head and face with a faded soiled red handkerchief. He cleared his throat several times, then gave his prepared testi-mony. "It was kinda late. About ten thirty. I was on my way home and being new in the area --- see, I accidentally goes to the wrong apartment. I swear to God they all looks alike." Morris folded his handkerchief and wiped his mouth. "So as I walks up to the door, I realizes my mistake. You see the numbers was different, but --- geez! Them apartments is identical so --- " "Mr. Hartman." Walt Ivers interrupted. "Did you see anything you would like the court to know about?" "Objection!" yelled Miles. "He is leading the witness!" "Overruled!" The judge spoke to Miles but looked at Walt Ivers. "Your Honor --- " Miles was in a rage but he persisted politely. "I said overruled!" Stoner continued to look at the prosecutor. "Mr. Ivers, you may proceed." "I will rephrase the question." Walt turned to the jury. "In the in-terest of justice." Bullshit! Barrett would keep his thoughts quiet. Walt Ivers continued. "Did you see anything --- unusual?" "Well --- like I says, I was at the wrong apartment. But I just happens to look into this window and --- geez! I seen that man over there." He gestured to the optometrist. "He was with this young lady --- and he was holding a gun to her mouth. I seen them strug-gle and --- " "That is a lie!" Barrett was on his feet and screaming. "That's a lie and you know it!" "Mr. Garrison!" boomed Mason Stoner as he brought down his gavel. "Please restrain your client. If he wants to talk put him on the witness stand. Otherwise, shut him up!" "Barrett." whispered Miles. "Let me handle it. Please! You'll get your chance to say your piece." Barrett Jessop sat down slowly and reluctantly. Then he turned to Miles. "Then you are going to let me testify?" "Yes!" Miles spoke unconvincingly. "I'm afraid so." Barrett smiled, folded his arms and sat back in his seat. As soon as the courtroom quieted down, Morris Hartman contin-ued. "Uh --- where was I?" Now there were soft ripples of laughter running through the courtroom. And once again the judge banged his gavel. "One more outburst and I will clear the court!" The stenographer read back Walt Iver's last question. "Oh yeah! So I seen them struggle and then he --- " Again Morris pointed to Barrett. " --- pulls the trigger and shoots this lady in the mouth."
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