'So you're looking to shake
'Eventually. Start with him, then take another shot at her.'
'It's some long shot,' Vail said.
'We're busted anyway. What've we got to lose?'
'Okay, let's see how good you are.'
The office where prosecutors conducted interrogations and depositions was on the third floor of the courthouse, a floor below the DA's headquarters. It was sparsely furnished: a table, six wooden chairs, an old leather sofa and a chair in one corner with a coffee table separating them. There was a small refrigerator near a window. A Mr Coffee, packets of sugar and dry cream, and a half-dozen mugs were neatly arranged on its top. The view was nothing special. No telephone. It was a pleasant room without being too comfortable. The room was also bugged and had a video camera in one corner that was focused on the table.
Vail and Parver were waiting when Paul Rainey and James Wayne Darby arrived. Rainey was a deceptively pleasant man. Tall, slender, his dark hair streaked with grey, he wore gold-rimmed glasses and an expensive dark blue suit and could have passed for a rich, Texas businessman. Darby was his antithesis, an ex-high school baseball player gone to seed: six feet tall, thirty pounds overweight, and sloppily dressed in jeans, heavy hiking boots, a flannel shirt, and a camouflage hunting jacket. Cheap aviator sunglasses hid his dull brown eyes. His dishwater-blonde hair was cropped too close and he had a beer drinker's complexion, a beer drinker's stomach, and a beer drinker's attitude. He was thirty-eight but could easily have passed for a man in his late forties. A farmer from Sandytown, a small farming community of four thousand people on the north end of the county, he had shot his wife to death with a shotgun after claiming she first tried to kill him.
Everyone on the team believed he had murdered his wife, but they could not prove his story was phony. There were some damaging circumstances, but that was all they were: circumstances. He was having a fling with a stripper named Poppy Palmer. He had insured both himself and his wife for $250,000 six months before the shooting. And the previous two years had been a disaster. Darby, on the verge of bankruptcy, was about to lose his farm.
But there were no witnesses, so there was no way to challenge him. His story, supported by the bovine Miss Palmer, was that a hysterical Ramona Darby had called Palmer an hour or so before the shooting and threatened to kill both Darby and Palmer. A slip of paper with Palmer's number had been found near the Darbys' phone.
Vail did the introductions, which were cordial enough. Vail and Parver sat with their backs to the camcorder and Darby sat across from them, slouching down in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He kept the hunting jacket on. Rainey laid a slender briefcase on the table and stood behind his client, leaning on the back of his chair.
'Okay,' he said. 'Let's get this over with.'
Vail smiled. 'What's the rush, Paul? Plenty of coffee. You can smoke. Nice view.'
'Martin, I've advised my client to cooperate with you people this one, last time. He's been interrogated twice by the police - once for six hours - and previously by your department for three. He's not accused of a thing. This is beginning to feel a little like harassment. I want an agreement that this is a voluntary interrogation and that all formal requirements in connection with such are waived. Also this statement, or series of statements, by my client does not constitute a formal deposition or a sworn statement.'
'Are you implying that he can lie to us with complete immunity?' Parver asked.
'I am saying that Mr Darby has agreed to cooperate with you in this matter. You can take his statement at face value.'
'Do you have any objections if we videotape the inquiry?'
Rainey thought for a moment. 'Only if we get a complete copy of the tape and you agree that it will not be used as evidence in a court case and will not be released to the public.'
Parver nodded. 'Acceptable.'
'Then it's acceptable to my client. We haven't got a thing to hide.'
Vail pressed a button under the table and started the camcorder.
John Wayne Darby said nothing. He stared across the table at Vail and Parver, his lips curled in a smirk.
Parver opened a file folder and took out a pencil. 'Are we ready?' she asked, trying to smile.
