No Team To Root For (28) "Barrett! Do you realize what you just said?" Miles shook him again. "Well? Do you?" "I --- I don't know. I --- " Barrett continued to stare blankly. George was immediately at Miles' side. "You don't know?" Miles was frantic. "Don't you realize what you just did?" Miles and George stopped and looked about them. At first they were oblivious. Then they were absorbed. All eyes were riveted onto Barrett Jessop, the professional, the stalwart, the law-abiding citizen! He had his head in his hands and he was crying. Now he knew what had happened. The jurors continued to be silent as they sat and stared in disbe-lief. Mason Stoner and Walt Ivers both sat with their mouths open trying to comprehend the spectacle they had just witnessed. "Your Honor." Miles was breathing very hard. "In lieu of this un-fortunate bizarre incident, I must confer with my client." He paused, still unable to catch his breath. "Therefore, I would appre-ciate a temporary --- " "Granted!" Mason Stoner banged his gavel. "There will be a short recess. Members of the jury are asked not to leave the build-ing." Miles and George, with the aid of two policemen, hurriedly es-corted Barrett Jessop toward an empty room at the end of the hall-way. They stopped outside the door when someone called out Miles' name. "Miles!" Walt Ivers was in hot pursuit and waving frantically. "Miles!" Barrett closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. His pulse was racing wildly. "What is it, Walt?" Miles tried to keep from screaming. "I'm sort of busy right now!" "Listen, Miles --- " Walt paused to catch his breath. Then he looked up and down the deserted hallway. " --- I know this is a tough moment for you, but --- " He cleared his throat and rubbed his palms together. " --- it appears your client may be changing his plea." Walt then took a brief glance at the defendant. "Unless I misinterpreted what just transpired in the courtroom." "You misinterpreted --- as usual." Miles and George looked at each other with rage and confusion. The two policemen stood on either side of the open door. Barrett felt like someone was squeezing his lungs together. "Goddamn it, Walt! I have no comment or explanation on what happened back there. Temporary insanity! Too much pressure! Lack of sex!" Miles threw his hands in the air. "Hell, I don't know. But --- " "But." interjected Ivers. "This does change things." He again looked at Barrett. "It places your client in a most precarious posi-tion." Miles paused. Fatigue was beginning to take its toll. "Yes I know." He answered quietly and dejectedly. "Just let me have a lit-tle time with him to see what the fuck went wrong!" Miles looked at his client. "Maybe I can make some sense out of this --- this staggering calamity!" Walt didn't answer. His gaze kept jumping between the defendant and the deserted hallway. "Jesus Christ, Walt!" Miles was infuriated. "There will be two guards outside that doorway guarding the fucking room! There is only one window and that has bars on it!" Once again Miles stifled an overpowering urge to scream. "We cannot possibly go any-where!" Ivers looked at the two policemen. Then he looked up and down the hall again. Finally he turned back to the frustrated defense at-torney and nodded. "Okay, Miles." Miles looked at Barrett Jessop for a long moment before he re-sumed his conversation with Walt Ivers. "I'll get back to you as soon as I know what my next move is." Ivers nodded again. "Let's meet in Stoner's chamber at --- " He studied his Timex. " --- say four pm." "Four pm." Miles agreed. Walt left. The three men went quickly into the large empty office. The two policemen waited outside. It was the same office that saw the initial meeting between Barrett and Miles. Nothing in the room had changed. When they got inside, Miles slammed the door shut and began pacing immediately. "Goddamn it! Goddamn it!" The madder he got the faster he paced and the faster he paced the madder he got. "I can see the fucking headlines now." He stopped pacing and drew an imaginary line. "Barrett Jessop confesses on the witness stand." He put his hands behind his back and started to pace again. "Right out of fucking Perry Mason! Call it the case of the lying optome-trist!" Then he walked up to his client until they were nose to nose. Barrett's squeezed his eyes shut more tightly. His vital signs were slowly returning to normal. Miles continued his assault. "Jesus H fucking Christ!" He paused a moment to take a breath. "What in the hell were you thinking? Are you aware of what you said? Are you aware of what you did?" Miles threw his hands into the air and walked to the window. "You told us you were innocent." Barrett opened his eyes wide. "I am innocent!" Miles turned to George, ignoring Barrett's protestations. "George and I have worked our asses off trying to help you out of this. We were --- " Miles put his thumb and forefinger together. " --- this close." He began to pace again. "Oh yes. We had a few setbacks. But I could sense some positive changes. I could feel the tide turn-ing in our direction." He stopped and shook his head. "Godddamn it! Goddamn it!" He paused to take another breath, then turned to Barrett. "All we needed was a solid testimony from you. After that we --- but what the hell's the difference?" Miles threw his hands in the air again. "It doesn't mean shit now!" It looked like steam was ready to come out of Miles' ears. "You sit on the stand glassy eyed, somewhere in space and say 'I'm sorry!' I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to --- but I did it!' " "Miles, look --- " Barrett tried to talk. Miles walked back to Barrett and put his finger against his nose. "I told you that if you ever fucking lied to me --- " "I didn't lie to you!" Barrett pushed his lawyer's finger away. "I did not kill Jodi Bartless!" "Barrett." George made his voice heard for the first time. He spoke calmly. "If you are innocent, you sure as hell have an odd way of showing it." He came up and stood next to Miles. Both men faced Barrett. "I've got to admit it, Barrett. You really fooled us." "Miles --- George --- listen!" Miles Garrison turned toward George Archer. "Now I don't know what the fuck to believe!" He took off his tie and jacket, and uncharacteristically tossed them both on the chair. "Look, fellas --- " Barrett continued to try to make his point. "Now do you see why I don't like to put a client on the stand? I told you strange things happen." He looked sternly at Barrett. "But this one was a real beaut! Yes sir! This one could easily win first fucking prize!" Miles smoothed out his tie and jacket and began to pace again. "I was so close. The strategy was perfect. A criminal that claimed to be an eyewitness up against an honest law-abiding defendant. A professional! A pillar of the community! A real stalwart! Boy, is that a laugh!" "Miles --- " Barrett kept at it. "Goddamn it!" Miles continued to ignore him. "I was so close. And then --- bang!" "Miles --- listen!" "The stage was set." Miles spoke to George as if only the two of them were in the room. "After Barrett's emotional gut wrenching testimony, we would totally disprove everything that Hartman and Ingles said. We would make liars out of Walt Ivers and each and every one of his fucking witnesses!" Miles turned abruptly to Barrett. "Ah --- but no! In reality, the reverse happens!" Barrett did not respond this time. He sat down heavily and de-jectedly. "Then after we got the --- ha ha --- acquittal --- ha ha, I was go-ing to go after the State with a conspiracy charge to frame an inno-cent man. Some fucking joke, huh? Shit!" "Miles, please!" Barrett was pleading. "You have to listen." "Then." Miles stopped pacing and walked up to George. "Are you ready for this?" He pasted a phony smile on his face. "The clincher was going to be not only to get an acquittal, but also to get a nice settlement as part of the lawsuit. Jesus! I thought I had it all figured out. But now I don't know what to think." He turned quickly and looked contemptuously at Barrett. "And if I don't know what to think --- or if I'm not sure of my own client, what the fuck do you think the jury is thinking?" "Barrett." said George removing his tie and sticking it in his pocket. "If the jury would meet right now, it would be virtually im-possible to get an acquittal." He took a step towards Barrett "I mean, if I heard the accused say he did it --- he was sorry --- but he did it, I would be very hard pressed to render anything short of a murder one verdict." George paused. "I'm afraid you have put us in a bit of a --- pickle!" "Look. I'm sorry. I --- " "Goddamn it! Quit saying you're sorry!" roared Miles. "Just shut up for a second and let me think!" He turned away and faced the window. "Just let me think!" "Miles! George!" Barrett screamed in desperation. "You have to listen to me. Please!" He bit his lower lip. "I have something very important to tell you." "What? What is so damned important?" The attorney faced his client and spoke with sarcasm. "You want to confess to another fucking murder?" Barrett paused, took a deep breath, then answered matter-of-factly. "Yes!" Miles paused for what Barrett thought was hours. He and George exchanged a quick perplexed glance. Miles then faced Barrett. His eyes were wide. "What the hell are you talking about?" All three stood, their faces close to each other. Miles grabbed Barrett's arm. "What? What?" George waited. His breathing was barely audible. "Talk Goddamn it!" yelled Miles. "Talk!" "Those comments on the stand --- " Barrett cleared his throat re-peatedly. " --- that confession --- the --- " "Yes! Yes!" Miles squeezed Barrett's arm harder. "What about it?" "It didn't pertain to --- to Jodi Bartless." Miles and George looked at each other for several seconds --- confused, baffled. George finally broke the silence. "The ramblings on the stand. The strange comments. They didn't pertain to --- the deceased?" "No. Not --- not that one." Barrett stammered. There was another prolonged silence. Both men stared intensely at their client. This time Miles broke the spell. "Not --- that one?" He put his hands against the sides of his head. "You --- you mean there's --- another one?" Miles eyes remained open wide. "Barrett! What the hell are you talking about for Christ's sake?" "It --- it --- oh, Jesus! Give me a second here." Barrett licked his lips and cleared his throat, trying desperately not to fall apart. "That episode on the stand." Barrett shook himself free of Miles' strong grip. "Those comments --- " "Those comments! Okay!" Miles continued to try and make sense out of his client’s sudden ramblings. "What about those comments?" "They --- they pertained to --- Janet!" Barrett sat down. His eyes became watery. "My wife --- Janet!" George and Miles looked at each other again. George then knelt next to Barrett. "Your --- wife? Barrett. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" "I --- I killed Janet!" Barrett looked at George, then at Miles. George got up and stood next to Miles. Both men looked stunned. For several minutes no one spoke. "There! I said it! I never said it to anyone before!" Barrett stood. His gaze alternated between George and Miles. "I killed my wife!" Tears ran down his cheeks. "There! I said it again!" Barrett took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. "Well. Is that un-fucking believable, or what?" George sat down heavily and put his head in his hands. Miles took a step toward his client. His mouth remained open but silent as he continued to stare. Then he turned away, shaking his troubled head slowly and sat down across from George. "You're right, Barrett. Un-fucking believable!" "Why don't you tell us the whole story --- from the beginning." said a calm George Archer. Barrett spelled out the entire story as it actually happened on May tenth. He did not leave out nor did he alter one incredible moment. He spoke rigidly and evenly. After he had finished re-counting the horrid events, they all stared at each other. Once again Miles and George were speechless. Barrett finally broke the long si-lence. "Can you see now why I couldn't tell you?" After another extended silence, George asked, "Does anyone else know?" Barrett sat down slowly. "No one!" Miles got up and began to pace again. "I positively cannot think. For the first time in my life I am unable to put two words together to make a logical sentence!" "That's what happened on the witness stand, you know." said Barrett. "What?" George and Miles spoke almost in unison. "The heartbeat." Barrett went on. Both men stared incredulously at Barrett. "I heard her heartbeat. Janet's heartbeat!" "You heard --- " Miles couldn't finish the sentence. "And it wasn't the first time. I heard it --- " "Barrett." Miles pointed his finger at his client. "Have you totally flipped out? Maybe we should have you committed." Miles shook his head rapidly. "Jesus Christ! Next you'll be telling us you're a fucking serial killer!" He started to walk away. Then he turned back to Barrett. His face showed deep concern. "You're not --- are you?" "Not what?" answered Barrett innocently. "A serial killer!" "Miles!" Miles turned away and began to pace again. "This is absolutely --- incredible!" said George who was also pacing, but at a slower speed. "Yes. That's a good word." Miles stopped pacing and glared at his client. "Incredible!" Barrett stood up and put his hands in his pockets. He spoke with panic in his voice. "Are --- are you going to have to turn me in?" Miles paused, still glaring. "Good question." He quickly turned to George. "I don't know. I've never been in such a sublime situa-tion before." "Well, speaking as an ex-cop, murder is murder." George spoke first. "Whether or not it was provoked is immaterial. It's still mur-der!" George shook his finger at Barrett. "Premeditated murder of the worst variety!" "Barrett." said Miles, more in control. "You are still my client. And as repugnant as this situation has become, I still feel I have to do what's in your best interest." He took a deep breath. "I have that dubious obligation." He turned to the detective. "George, do you agree?" George hesitated for a moment. Then he faced Miles and shrugged. "I've said my piece. From now on you call the shots. I'll go along with it." "Well --- " Miles nodded his head and continued. " --- for right now, let's focus our attention and use our energy on Jodi Bartless' death. I have no idea what might transpire down the road. I cannot promise you anything --- now!' "As it turns out," George looked at Barrett. "You could end up paying a heavy price and wind up in prison for the wrong crime." Barrett answered quietly. His head was down. "I have been think-ing of nothing else for the past six weeks!" "Well." Miles pulled the chair next to George and sat down. Once again both men faced Barrett. "For the time being, let's put that --- " He pointed to the door. " --- other episode aside. It could rear its ugly head at some future time --- maybe. Maybe not. Let's just do what we have to for now." "I know this sounds crazy," chirped Barrett, "but I really feel bet-ter about things, having told you. I feel as if a large weight has been lifted off my shoulders." "Well. That is very noble. Very noble indeed!" Miles' face looked like it was on fire. "But that is of no importance to me." He took a step towards Barrett. "You have created an unpardonable situa-tion. And personally, I don't give a shit how you feel!" He lowered his voice. "I said I will try and do all I can for you. But that's as far as I go. I refuse to be your father confessor. I'm an attorney, not a fucking clergyman!" Miles took a quick look at his watch. It was getting late. A car with a siren blazing screeched by the courthouse. Miles walked to the window, lifted the shade and peeked through the bars. "Gentlemen! I've got my back to the wall. It's a predicament I'm unfamiliar with." He turned to face Barrett. "And frankly I don't like it!" "Barrett," said George frowning. "I must admit that you are not overly popular with us right now." He stood and walked up to the eye doctor. "And truthfully, an acquittal appears to be totally out of the question." "So," Miles continued with the same train of thought. "we can only try for as light a sentence as we can." He stood next to George. "I hope you understand that." Barrett nodded and answered meekly. "I --- I understand." "Yeah --- well, I'm not so sure you do." Miles said. "We've been working with half truths all this time. And now you drop this --- this bomb on us!" "Look. I'm so --- " "If you say you're sorry one more time," Miles pointed his finger at Barrett's face. "So help me God, George and I walk out that door and you can fucking rot in jail forever!" Barrett looked away despondently as Miles and George deliber-ated on their plans. "George, we have two options. Well, actually we have several. But let's focus in on these two for now." Miles put his hand on George's arm. "One! We say that Barrett is guilty by reasons of in-sanity and throw ourselves on the mercy of the court." Barrett started to protest but thought better of it. Miles went on. "I will say right now that I'm not too crazy about that one. But it is an option." He removed his hand from George's arm and rubbed his palms together. "Or two! We continue to maintain Barrett's in-nocence. And what he said in court was some sort of half-assed hal-lucination or a warped deja vu or a recurrence of an old head injury or --- "I don't know." said George shaking his head. "This is really des-peration. Grasping like that ---" Barrett, now drenched with sweat, sat with his arms folded, shak-ing his head grimly. He listened to Miles and George discuss his fu-ture as if he weren't in the room. "I know they're weak options." said Miles throwing his hands in the air. "But we don't have a helluva lot of things we can try." "You're right. After Barrett's testimony --- " George looked at the defendant. "It's gonna be tough!" Barrett looked away. His heart began to beat so hard his chest hurt. "Well", said Miles, exasperated. "since there is absolutely no way we will ever convince this jury that Barrett is innocent, can we do something --- anything, to discredit Hartman and Ingles?" "I don't know. Unless --- " George spoke after a long pause. "--- we find out that the prosecution actually did perpetrate a conspir-acy." "That could be very difficult." "I agree." George nodded slowly. Barrett continued to look away. He knew his chest would soon explode. "We would need proof --- something." "Maybe I could do a little investigating." suggested George. "Hmmm --- maybe. Except we're supposed to meet with Ivers and Stoner in --- " Again Miles consulted his watch. " --- exactly one hour." He rubbed his chin. "Wait here. I'll be right back." Miles walked quickly to the phone and made his call. He returned in six minutes. "We have forty-eight hours." XXXVIII "I hate to admit it." George Archer said, seated comfortably in Barrett Jessop's chair. "But I couldn't find out one damn thing! All the apartments in the complex that Jodi Bartless lived in really do look exactly alike." He crossed his legs then quickly uncrossed them. "And Morris Hartman does live there. But I couldn't get an exact date on when he moved in. The owners keep lousy books." "Yes." said Miles absently thumbing through a copy of an Ellery Queen paperback. "I was afraid of that." Then he put it back on the shelf. "The owner lives out of town." Barrett volunteered as he brought in a tray of rolls and coffee and put them on a TV table in front of the sofa. "They've never been properly managed." Miles took a bite of a roll, thought about it , then washed it down with a long sip of coffee. "I used to know a rental agent like that in New York." He took another sip. "One day the IRS came and took him away." "So." continued the detective. "Maybe Hartman lived there when he said he did." He put a napkin on his lap. "Although more than likely --- he didn't!" "There's no way to find out?" asked Barrett with a mouth full. "Nope." George shook his head as he took a sweet roll. "I'm tell-ing you the books from those apartments are one big mess." After swallowing, he added. "You could conceivably live there for months and not have to pay any rent." "So," Barrett asked meekly. "what does all this mean?" Miles shrugged. "I don't know. But it would certainly be nice to turn things around here." "Ditto." echoed George.
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