I disagree; Dylan will ridicule our claims and not act on them at all. For me the issue is whether to bring this to the police or the press. At this point Lieutenant Sabonis has not given me reason to mistrust him, so I decide to start with the police. The press will be backup if Sabonis doesn't take action.
Most important is what we have learned from this. Obviously, and most significant, we have learned that Dorsey is alive. And while we have always known that someone was framing Laurie for Dorsey's murder, now we know it is Dorsey himself doing the framing. Dorsey must have sent Stynes.
Making the phone call, though, was a brazen and overly self-confident act on Dorsey's part. It also reveals the depth of his hatred for Laurie. It is not triumph enough for him to ruin her life; he wants her to know that it is he himself who is ruining it.
I call Sabonis and ask to meet with him as soon as possible on a new development. He is surprised and a little uncomfortable with the request, since normal protocol would be for me to go through Dylan.
'This information is too important to get buried,' I say. 'Obviously, you can discuss it with whoever you want once I tell you, but it's important to me that you hear it directly.'
He agrees, and I ask if he can come to us, since Laurie can answer any related questions he might have. He says that he'll be over in twenty minutes.
I use the time to brief Laurie on how to answer his questions. She has been the questioner, but never the accused, and I tell her that she is to pause before answering anything, so that if I want to intervene, I'll have the time to do so. Having a client answer police questions is uncomfortable for a defense attorney, but in this case it is necessary, as long as those questions relate to the Dorsey phone call.
Sabonis arrives five minutes early. I thank him for coming and bring him into the den, where Laurie proceeds to describe the phone call. He listens quietly and respectfully, not saying anything at all until she's finished.
'I assume you didn't tape the call?' he asks.
She shakes her head. 'No, it was on my cell phone.'
'Who has that number?'
'A lot of people, mostly my friends. But calls to my home are being routed to it.'
'Did you have that phone number when you were on the force? Would it have been in your file?'
She nods. 'I think so.'
'What do you think, Nick?' I ask.
He pauses a moment, then, 'I think you were right in not bringing this to Dylan; he'd throw you out of his office and laugh in your face while he was doing it. My reaction would be the same with typical murder suspects, but Laurie is not your typical murder suspect.'
'So,' I ask, 'will you treat it as a reliable piece of information and keep me posted on what you learn?'
'I'll treat it as information to be investigated. Whether it's reliable or not is still to be determined. As far as keeping you posted, you know that's Dylan's responsibility.'
'He'll shut the door on us,' I say. 'I'll have to go to the judge.'
'No skin off my ass.' My sense is that he'd be fine if I did that; it might lessen the hassles he has in dealing with Dylan.
Sabonis tries to take advantage of the proximity to ask Laurie some case-related questions, but since they are not about the phone call, I don't let her answer them. He leaves, and Kevin goes off to amend our motion for discovery on Dorsey's department file to include this latest development in the investigation.
I had planned to think about what would be best for Marcus to work on, but this turns that decision into a nobrainer. I call him and tell him that his time should be devoted to finding out whatever there is to find out about Alex Dorsey.
'I want you to find his head and tell me if there's a body attached to it,' I say. He grunts, but I think it's an agreeable grunt. And I leave it at that.
Laurie is freaking out, but not from fear. It's only been a few days, but the inactivity and feelings of frustration are really getting to her. Now that she knows Dorsey is out there directing this torture, the desire to get out and find him is overwhelming. I've had to devote more and more time to either calming her down or easing her fears.
I receive a pleasant surprise when I get a call from FBI agent Cindy Spodek, who identifies herself as assigned to Darrin Hobbs's command at the Bureau. Agent Dead End Hastings has been true to his word and told Hobbs, the agent in charge of the Dorsey-related investigation, that I wanted to meet with him, and Agent Spodek is calling to say that Hobbs will be at his Manhattan office that afternoon. I expected to have to wait weeks for this meeting, and there is no way I will not fit this in.
Traffic into the city is light, and I'm there a half hour before the two-thirty meeting. I go in anyway and am greeted by Agent Spodek, a tall, attractive brunet in her early thirties. She very crisply informs me that Special Agent Hobbs is in a meeting, and we can wait in Hobbs's small conference room just outside his office.
Looking around, I have to assume we visitors are often deposited in here first to impress us, as the room is a shrine to Special Agent Hobbs. Hastings had told me that Hobbs was a star within the Bureau, and the decor drives that point home. Hobbs's commendations and newspaper clippings detailing his heroics cover most of the walls and almost obscure the top of every piece of furniture in the room. The only remaining spaces are taken by similar tributes to his exploits in Vietnam. Based on all these chronicled heroic triumphs, it's amazing we didn't win.
'Very humble,' I say.
'He's earned it' is Agent Spodek's response.
It seems like my time with her is heading for a conversational wasteland, so I immediately trot out the line guaranteed to turn that around. 'By the way, I saved a golden retriever from death row at an animal shelter.'
'How nice for you,' she says with no enthusiasm, leaving me to wonder where I went wrong. Maybe the line requires Tara to be standing next to me, or maybe it only works outdoors. It's certainly going to require further study, but for now I just nod and look around the room.
I'm holding one of the photos from Vietnam in my hand when the door opens and Hobbs walks in. He's probably fifty years old, not that imposing in size but energetic and fit, the type who hasn't found a room he can't dominate. He sees me holding the photograph.
'Those were dangerous but exciting times,' he says. 'Were you over there?'
I was a good fifteen years too young for that, but I don't mention this. 'No, I missed it,' I say, ruing that fact by snapping my fingers. 'Just my luck.'
'It was no fun, believe me.'
I already knew that, so this is not a revelation that throws me off my stride. At least not as much as his handshake, which reminds me of Superman squeezing a lump of coal so hard it turns into a diamond. 'Darrin Hobbs.' He smiles. 'Good to meet you.'
I could wait to speak until the circulation returns to my hand, but I don't think he invited me here for a sleep-over. 'Andy Carpenter. Thanks for seeing me so quickly.'
'No problem.' He looks at his watch. 'Although I don't have a hell of a lot of time. Hastings said it was important.'
'It is. I'm representing a woman charged with the murder of Alex Dorsey.'
Hobbs looks over to Agent Spodek, as if realizing for the first time that she is even there. 'We'll be fine, Spodek' is how he dismisses her.
Once Spodek has left the room, Hobbs picks up the conversation as if she had never been there. He shakes his head, as if remembering past times. 'Dorsey was always a murder waiting to happen.'
I nod. 'But my client didn't make it happen.' I decide not to share with him the fact that Dorsey is still alive and making phone calls. That has nothing to do with what I'm trying to learn.
He smiles. 'Another innocent client … so what is it you want from me?'
'I know you were familiar with Dorsey's actions a couple of years ago, when he was almost nailed by Internal Affairs. I know you, or at least the Bureau, intervened.'
'You know that?' He smiles, apparently amused.
'Are you telling me otherwise?'
He seems about to say that he is, but then shrugs with some resignation. 'What the hell, sure. Inside these four walls … that's basically what happened.'
'Was Dorsey the target of the investigation?'
'No way. We had bigger fish to fry.'
