He looked at me. 'That's as good a reason as any,' he said levelly.
'If you say so.'
'I say so.' His nostrils flared. 'What difference does it make why I went toPrejanian ? He's done with me now. Whoever framed me got just what he wanted.Unless you can find a way to turn it inside out.'
He was on his feet now, gesturing with the cigarettes. 'You have to find out who set me up and how it was done because nothing else really gets me off the hook. I could beat this thing in court, but there would always be a cloud over me. People would just figure I got lucky in court.
How many people can you think of who went up on charges for capital crimes that got a lot of heat? And when they got off, you and everybody else takes it for granted they were guilty? They say you don't get away with murder, Matt, but how many names do you know of people you'd swear got away with murder?'
I thought about it. 'I could name a dozen names,' I said. 'And that's off the top of my head.'
'Right.And if you included ones where you think they're probably guilty, you could name six dozen.
All those guys that Lee Bailey defends and gets off, everybody is always positive the bastards are guilty. More than once I heard cops say So-and-so must be guilty or why would he need Bailey to defend him?'
'I've heard the same line.'
'Of course.My lawyer's supposed to be good, but I need more than a lawyer.Because I want more than acquittal. And I can't get anything out of the cops. The ones who caught this case love it just the way it is.
Nothing makes them happier than seeing me with my head on the block.
So why should they look any further? All they'll look for is more ways to nail me to the wall. And if they find anything that hurts their case, you can guess what they'll do with it. They'll bury it so deep it'd be easier to reach if you started digging inChina .'
* * *
WE went over a few more things and I wrote down various items in my notebook. I got his home address inForest Hills , his wife's name, the name of his lawyer, and other bits and pieces. He took a blank sheet of paper from my notebook, borrowed my pen, and wrote out an authorization for his wife to give me twenty-five hundred dollars.
'In cash, Matt.And there's more money if that's not enough. Spend what you have to. I'll back you all the way. Just fix it so I can put that tie on and get the hell out of here.'
'Where does all the money come from?'
He looked at me. 'Does it matter?'
'I don't know.'
'What the fuck am I supposed to say? That I saved it out of my salary? You know better than that. I already told you I was never a Boy Scout.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Does it matter where the money came from?'
I thought about it. 'No,' I said. 'No, I don't guess it does.'
ON our way back through the corridors the guard said, 'You were a cop yourself, right?'
'For a while.'
'And now you're working for him.'
'That's right.'
'Well,' he said judiciously, 'we don't always get to choose who we'regonna work for. And a man's got to makehisself a living.'
'That's the truth.'
He whistled softly. He was in his late fifties, jowly and round-shouldered, with liver spots on the backs of his hands. His voice had been roughened by years of whiskey and tobacco.
'Figure to get him off?'
'I'm no lawyer. If I can turn up some evidence, maybe his lawyer can get him off. Why?'
'Just thinking.If hedon't get off, he's apt to wish they still had capital punishment.'
'Why's that?'
'He's a cop,ain't he?'
'So?'
'Well, you just think on it. The present time, we got him in a cell by his lonesome. Awaiting trial and all of that,wearin 'his own clothes,keepin ' tohisself . But let's just say he's convicted and he's sent up to, say,Attica . And there he is in a prison full to overflowing with criminals who got no use at all for thepolice, andbetter'n half of
'emcoons who was born hating the police. Now thereis all kinds of ways to do time, but do you know any harder time than that poor bastard is going to serve?'
'I hadn't thought of that.'
The guard clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 'Why, he'll never have a minute when he won't have to beworryin ' about some black bastardcomin ' at him with a homemade knife. They steal spoons from the mess hall and grind 'emdown in the machine shop, you know. I workedAttica some yearsago, I know how they do things there. You recall the big riot? When they seized the hostages and all? I was long out of there by that time,
