have no idea what the hell is going on. But the more I learn, the stronger my hunch gets that the people in the photograph are somehow related to Denise's death.
Before I leave, Vince gets me the address where Denise's father lived when she worked there, as well as copies of every story she wrote in the year before her death.
“Thanks,” I say. “I owe you.”
Vince tells me that if I can get the coed twins to sing the naked version of the Doublemint jingle, then we're even. He also says that he's got a feeling I'm on the right track, and he'll help in any way he can. I thank him without mentioning that I'm nowhere near the right track.
As I leave, I run into Laurie in the parking lot. My keen lawyerly mind has a feeling that this is not a coincidence.
She confirms it. “I'm glad I caught you.”
“What's up?”
“I've been tracking down Hinton … Willie's lawyer.”
“You find him?”
“In a manner of speaking,” she says.
“Are we in a cryptic mood today?”
“The bar association doesn't have any record of him, he's never tried a case anywhere except for Willie Miller's, and he never graduated from a law school, at least not in this country.”
“Are you telling me that Willie's lawyer never existed?”
“I'm telling you Willie's lawyer wasn't a lawyer.”
This is stunning news, and in a way it's embarrassing. A revelation like this would obviously have been a slam dunk for getting a new trial, yet Willie's crack new lawyer, Andy Carpenter, never tracked this down until now. Had Willie not gotten the okay from the Court of Appeals on the juror misconduct, it would never have come out at all and he would have been put to death.
The next, more important question that comes to mind is: How did Willie wind up with Hinton? That and answers to other questions can only come from Willie.
“Come on, let's go see Willie.”
“I can't,” Laurie says. “I've got a lunch date.”
I do a double take as I'm already starting toward my car. I turn and for the first time notice that there is somebody in Laurie's car. Somebody that's male and good-looking, if you like the tall, well-built, and handsome type. Personally, I don't.
“With him?”
She nods. “With him.”
“He looks familiar.”
“His name is Bobby Radburn. You may have seen him on television. He pitches for the Yankees.”
I would have much preferred she hit me on the head with a two-by-four, and for that matter so would she.
“I know who he pitches for. He's not even in the starting rotation.” That'll teach her.
“It's only a matter of time,” she says. “He's incredibly athletic. You want to meet him? I can get you his autograph.” She's loving this.
“No thanks.”
She nods. “Then I'll see you back at the office later.”
I take one more stab. “You'd rather have lunch with a guy who has a pitiful strikeout-to-walk ratio than visit a maximum security prison?”
“That's a tough call,” she says. “I'll think about it over lunch.”
BEFORE I DRIVEOUT TO THE PRISON, I CALL Richard Wallace to arrange a meeting. He tells me he's got a few minutes and that I should come right over, that he had been planning to call me as well. It's nice to be wanted.
When I arrive I get right to the point. I tell him about Hinton not being a lawyer, and watch his reaction. He seems genuinely surprised, and can't imagine how that could have happened. He promises to check into it, and I tell him that this is evidence of what I see as a conspiracy to convict a totally innocent Willie Miller.
He smiles. “What this is, if it's true, is a clear ground for getting a new trial. But you've already got the new trial, Andy. And Miller already has a new lawyer.”
“The system has failed Willie Miller. It railroaded him by approving a fraud and letting Hinton represent him. For all I know the court may have appointed him; Willie didn't exactly have a legal defense fund.”
“So?”
“So I'm going to move for a dismissal and then I'm going to sue the state for ten million dollars.”
He laughs. “You want cash or a check?” He is unfazed, and though it annoys me, I can't say as I blame him. We both know I'm not going to get the dismissal.
Wallace then reveals why he had been calling me. He's being pressured from above to reach a plea bargain, though he seems confused as to why. My hunch is that Markham and/or Brownfield are using their clout to lean on Wallace's boss, but I'll never be able to prove that.
Wallace's new offer is forty to life, with the possibility of parole in twenty-five years. Willie would be fifty- three before he'd have a chance of getting out. It's still terrible, but it's a lot better than life without parole or a needle in the arm.
I don't think Willie will take it, but it's his decision, and that's what I tell Wallace. He tells me that even though he had to offer it, he hopes Willie won't take it. Wallace believes that anyone who could slaughter Denise McGregor like that doesn't deserve to ever again taste freedom. On that we agree.
I promise to talk to Willie, and I leave to make the drive out to the prison to see him. I ask him where he found Hinton.
“Where did I get my lawyer? Where do you think I got him? From the fucking lawyer fairy?”
“If I knew where you got him, I wouldn't ask. So don't bust my chops, okay?”
He can tell that I'm annoyed, and he doesn't want to piss me off further. I'm the only lawyer he has; in fact I now know that I'm the only lawyer he's ever had.
“The court assigned the asshole to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“That's what he told me. You think I had the cash to go out and interview lawyers?”
Willie nods. “He did. He bullshitting me?”
I confirm that Hinton was indeed bullshitting him. Willie asks the obvious question. “Why would he want to be my lawyer if he wasn't getting paid?”
I evade the question, but the answer is pretty well set in my mind. Somebody else was paying Hinton. Somebody who wanted Willie Miller to lose. Very possibly the same somebody who paid off Cal Morris and the guys who attacked Willie.
Before I leave, I bring up Wallace's new offer. His answer is short and to the point.
“No.”
“It's the best offer they are going to make,” I say.
“Then go back and tell them to take their best offer and shove it up their ass.”
“I'm not saying you should take it; but I am saying you should seriously consider it. If we lose at trial, it will turn out a hell of a lot worse.”
“I already told you, we ain't gonna lose at trial,” he says.
I'm not going to be able to convince him of our dire circumstances, so I leave and head back to the office. Laurie is back from lunch with Mr. Wonderful. I hope he tore a rotator cuff passing the potatoes. She has checked and learned that the court had in fact not appointed Hinton, and Wallace has also left a message confirming that fact.
My plan is to bring this up before Hatchet at tomorrow's pretrial hearing, but I'm going to need to get my facts in order. What this means is another late night tonight, and I grab all my papers and head home.
