The Last Innocent Man

He finished editing a paragraph and carefully moved his work to one side. He placed an empty legal pad on his blotter, straightened his tie, and put on his suit jacket.

Charlie Holt was pacing in front of the bar that separated clients from the well-endowed redhead who served as the receptionist at Banks, Kelton, Skaarstad and Nash. Only Charlie was not looking at the girl. His eyes were straining toward the swinging doors that opened onto the lawyers’ offices. Charlie was a tall, balding securities lawyer who had never lost the military bearing he had acquired in the Marines. His movements were always sharp and jerky, as if he were on parade. It was an exhausting experience spending time with Charlie: you always felt like a passenger in a sports car driving on a winding mountain road at top speed.

David pushed through the swinging doors and Charlie rushed toward him.

“Thanks, Dave,” Holt said quickly, pumping David’s hand. “Big trouble. Sorry to interrupt so early.”

“That’s okay. What’s up?” David asked as he led Holt back down the corridor to his office.

“Larry Stafford, one of our associates. Do you know him?”

“I think I met him at the bar-association dinner last month.”

Charlie sat down without being asked. He looked at the floor and shook his head like a man who had given up hope.

“Really shocking.”

“What is?”

Holt’s head jerked up. “You didn’t read it in the papers?”

“I’ve been here since seven.”

“Oh. Well, it’s front page. Bad for the firm.” He paused for a moment and thought. “Worse for Larry. He’s been arrested. Wife called me last night. In tears. Doesn’t know what to do. Can I help? I went out to the jail, but I’m no criminal lawyer. Hell, I’d never even seen the jail before this morning. Your name naturally came to mind, if you’ll take it.”

“Take what, Charlie? What’s he charged with?”

“Murder.”

“Murder?”

Holt nodded vigorously.

“They say he killed that policewoman. The one who was pretending to be a prostitute.”

David whistled and sat down slowly.

“He’s very upset. Made me promise to get you out there as soon as I could.”

Holt stopped talking and waited for David to say something. David started to doodle on the legal pad. A lawyer. And that murder. That was a hot potato. Lots of press and TV coverage. A good investigation, too. The police were not going to go off half-cocked and look bad later. They would make damn sure they had a good case before they moved. And it would be better than damn good before they arrested an associate from the biggest and most influential law firm in the city. Hell, half the politicians in town had received sizable contributions from Seymour Price.

“Who’s footing the bill, Charlie? This will cost plenty.”

“Jennifer. Mrs. Stafford. They have savings. She has family. I asked her and she said they could manage.”

“What do they have on him, Charlie?”

Holt shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you, I’m no criminal lawyer. I wouldn’t even know who to ask.”

“What do the papers say?”

“Oh, right. Something about an eyewitness. Another policeman. Jennifer says they searched the house and took some of Larry’s shirts and pants.”

“That’s right,” David said, remembering one of the newspaper stories he’d read. “Bert Ortiz was working with her and got knocked unconscious. But I didn’t know he’d seen the killer.”

“You know this Ortiz?”

“Sure. He’s a vice cop. He’s been a witness in several cases I’ve tried.”

“Will you go out and see Stafford?”

David looked at the half-finished brief. Did he want to get involved in a case this heavy right now?

“Jennifer swears he didn’t do it. Says they were home together the night the girl was killed.”

“She does? Do you believe her? After all, she is his wife.”

“You don’t know Jenny. She’s a peach. No, if she says so…”

David smiled, then laughed softly. Holt looked at him quizzically.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s just that you don’t run across too many innocent men in this business. They’re about as rare as American eagles.”

David felt a surge of excitement at the thought. An honest-to-goodness innocent man. It was worth a look. He’d finish the brief tonight.

“AMIGLAD to see you,” Larry Stafford said. The guard closed the door of the private interview room, and David stood up to shake hands. Stafford was dressed in an illfitting jumpsuit.

“Sit down, Larry,” David said, indicating a plastic chair.

“How soon can you get me out of this place?” Stafford asked. He was trying to keep calm, but there was an undercurrent of panic flowing behind his pale-blue eyes and country-club tan.

“We’ll be in front of a judge later this morning, but this is a murder case, and there’s no requirement that the judge set bail.”

“I…I thought they always…there was always bail.”

“Not on a murder charge. If the DA opposes bail, we can ask for a bail hearing. But there’s no guarantee that the judge will set an amount after the hearing, if the DA can convince the court that you may be guilty. And even if the judge does set an amount for bail, it could be high and you might not be able to make it.”