Sheriff Tompkins asked, “So what’s it tell you?”
“Not much. The calendar had seemed like a good lead at the time.”
“Well, there you go.”
I handed the pocket calendar back to the sheriff, who tucked it into her manila envelope.
“Nothing else?” she asked me.
“Yeah. He wrote ‘Sporting Clays’ on Wednesday night at 8:00 p.m. Seems kind of late in the day to be shooting clay disks out of the air.”
The sheriff looked mildly puzzled, like she had not considered that before, but she said nothing more about it. Then Tompkins leaned back in her chair and stretched her neck from side to side like an athlete preparing for competition. “So, Mr. Seagraves, I’ve let you see his calendar, just like you wanted. Are you ready to start cooperating with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want your help with this case.” Her expression was sincere. Her dark eyes remained focused on me. Uncomfortable from sitting, I shifted in the metal chair.
I replied, “You showed me a calendar with not much in it and now you want something from me?”
“Both Richard Kostas and Marisa Dupree came to you for legal representation. I see a couple of possible reasons why. On one hand, you could be part of whatever they were into. On the other hand, you might not. I’m not sure. Tell me the real reason Kostas came to you for legal help.”
“Again, he didn’t say. We never got that far.”
“And Ms. Dupree?”
“All I know is that Kostas told her that he was considering hiring me as his lawyer. I had the impression that she didn’t have anywhere else to turn.”
“So why would you offer to help our department with the investigation?”
I shrugged. “Because catching whoever killed Richard Kostas could help me clear Marisa Dupree.”
“It could also be an easy way to get our take on the investigation.”
“If you really believed that’s what I’m up to, then you wouldn’t have shown me his calendar.”
Sheriff Tomkins leaned forward. “Why did you say, ‘clear Marisa Dupree,’ instead of just defend her?”
“First of all,” I replied, “I don’t like to lose. Second, she claims she had nothing to do with stealing files from Benton Dynamics. I could be way off, but at least some small part of me believes her.”
The sheriff was silent as she ran her fingers along the edges of the manila envelope.
I asked, “So what do you want me to do? You’re not going to ask me to find out if Marisa Dupree wears size seven shoes, I hope.”
The sheriff shook her head. “No. I’m serious. I want your help. Answer me this. Did Kostas leave anything with you?”
“Just the Writ of Summons and Complaint in my drop-box.”
“Nothing else?”
“Like what?”
The sheriff crossed her arms. “Files from Benton Dynamics. A disk drive. Something like that.”
“No,” I said.
“You checked your drop-box thoroughly?”
“Yeah, of course. It’s not big. Nothing else was in there.”
In a conspiratorial tone, the sheriff said, “Some clients leave evidence with their attorneys. Gets it out of their possession and gives them … some sense of protection.”
“I don’t have anything like that.”
“Does Ms. Dupree know that you don’t have the files from Benton Dynamics?”
“We never talked about that.”
“Did she ask?”
I just looked at the sheriff without answering, and her question dissolved into the stillness of the interrogation room.
“Okay,” Sheriff Tompkins said. “I get it. You’re not going to tell me what a client said to you.”
I nodded, but only barely.
“How about if I put it this way?” the sheriff asked. “Did Ms. Dupree give you anything from Benton Dynamics? That’s not me asking what she discussed with you. Did she give you anything physical? That wouldn’t be covered by attorney-client privilege.”
“All she gave me were the papers from the court, the same as Kostas. No computer files, disk drives, or anything else.”
“Have you figured out what kind of files walked out of Benton Dynamics?”
“No. Not yet. How about you?”
The sheriff cracked her knuckles and then massaged her fingers. “Nope, not yet. Here’s where I am with this right now. If Kostas took the files and hid them somewhere before he died, then everyone will be looking for them. Benton Dynamics, the people he was involved with, and you — on behalf of your new client, of course. Not to mention my department and, yes, eventually the feds.”
“Sheriff, you’ve got the best chance of finding them. Swear out search warrants before the files disappear.”
“That’s all underway. But it’s possible that Kostas already passed the files onto somebody. If so, they’re gone forever.”
I nodded.
The sheriff continued, “It’s also possible that Marisa Dupree has the stolen files right now. I’ve no reason to believe that she’s as innocent as she claims. Did you consider that maybe she’s playing you? If she’s got them, then maybe you can help her help herself.”
I felt my dull headache return and just let the sheriff continue talking.
“As her lawyer, you can convince her to turn them over to us. I’ll get them back to the right people. I’ll note her cooperation in my report to the State’s Attorney, the FBI, and anyone else on this case. It’ll go a lot better for her. You have my word on that. So speak with her and get back to me.”
The sheriff’s offer might have been in Marisa Dupree’s best interest, if she decided to cooperate, but I had no idea how to explain to my new client that I had spoken with the Chester County Sheriff about the case on the same afternoon that I had met her.
I said, “Look, Ms. Dupree was at least somewhat convincing.”
“Sure she was, Mr. Seagraves.”
“She denied anything to do with this, and as her lawyer, I’ve got to go with that. The stolen files could still be here in Bridgeford. Maybe they’re stashed somewhere, and Kostas didn’t pass them on to anyone yet. Dupree might not have them. You’re right, though. She might. I can’t say. Perhaps she’s guilty, but that’s not my
