he’ll talk?”
“Some.” She said this thoughtfully.
He lowered his head and looked straight at her, “How much is some?”
“Part of that will depend on what he, meaning Hisle, knows about the case.”
“Meaning, how much the good senator has told him about it,” replied Mac, following Sally’s train of thought.
“Exactly. I bet I’ve spoken to a hundred defense attorneys who have told me their client didn’t tell them everything. I’m not sure why the senator would be different.” Sally took a last drink from her beer.
“Want another?”
“Sure.”
Mac got up to get her a beer but didn’t stop talking, speaking from the kitchen. He merely spoke a little louder to cross the distance. “So, if I’m hearing you right, what we get tomorrow will depend upon what Hisle knows about the case, and that’s probably based on what Johnson has told him?”
“Not necessarily.”
“‘Not necessarily’? What do you mean?” Mac asked as he came back in and handed her the beer.
“Well, Hisle might get some of his own information. I bet he or one of his lackey’s been working the department for information.”
“That would be Lyman.” Mac replied, nodding. “He has friends in our department who could feel like they might owe him.”
“Why’s that?” asked Sally, not understanding his point.
“Lyman’s big time, right?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s also represented a number of cops over the years. He may be a defense attorney, and cops hate most of them, but not Lyman. He’s helped out a lot of police, and he hasn’t always charged his full fee.”
“So… do you think any cops will talk?”
“If any of them knew anything they might. But to the best of my knowledge Lich, Clark, and Green haven’t needed to use Lyman for anything.”
“What about the chief?”
“Well, Flanagan knows Hisle pretty well. They’re friends. But I don’t think he’d give Lyman dick.”
Sally smiled. “Well I’d hope not. But what about information?”
Mac snorted. “Touche, counselor.” Mac took a hit from his beer. “Let’s assume for the sake of argument that Hisle knows everything we know, or even what we suspect. Everything. The semen, time of death, no forced entry- the whole nine yards. ”
“All right.”
“Assuming all that,” Mac continued, “will Hisle let his client talk?”
Sally thought for a minute. “Some.”
Mac smirked. “Typical lawyer, won’t answer the damned question. I know you think ‘some,’ but how much? What’s he going to tell his client to do?”
“He’ll probably allow the senator to answer questions about how he met Daniels and the nature of their relationship. He’ll probably allow him to admit they had sex because he’ll know we’ll probably match semen through DNA. He can’t be certain who she might have told about the relationship, so he’ll probably answer those questions.”
“How about, ‘Have you told your wife about your affair with Daniels?’”
“You should ask that question, but Hisle’ll tell him not to answer. That goes right to guilt and motive. Remember our theory the other day?”
“That Daniels pressured him about his marriage, about a possible divorce, and maybe she didn’t like the answer.”
“Exactly,” replied Sally. “That’d be motive right there. I’d be stunned if Hisle allowed Johnson to answer anything near that. He’ll say it’s irrelevant and all that shit, even though it is.” She picked up her beer. “The only way I could see Hisle allowing him to answer that question is if the senator had told his wife he was having an affair and she didn’t care or something like that. I can’t imagine Gwen Johnson going for that.”
“No,” Mac replied nodding. “From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t seem like the type to put up with that. Plus, she wouldn’t have to testify on that point anyway would she?” Mac asked.
“That’s right. Marital privilege.”
“Anything else Hisle won’t let him answer?”
“You guys might go down the path of encouraging the senator to come clean, basically cop a plea. It wasn’t intentional. It was a heat of passion type situation-the manslaughter path.” She took another drag of her beer, “However, if you get to that point, Hisle won’t allow him to answer. He’ll shut him down. We’ll have to charge him before he entertains that. Again, that’s if the interview goes that way.”
Mac sat thinking for a minute, running this all through his head. “Okay. I’ve got a good feel for what happens if Hisle has all the info he needs. But what if he doesn’t. What if he’s flying blind?”
“Hisle wouldn’t fly blind. If he were
“Maybe he’s not completely blind, then. The senator’ll have given him
“You’re assuming he hasn’t gotten any,” she replied.
“True.” Mac leaned forward in his chair. “But let’s assume he doesn’t.”
“Then, he won’t let his client answer any questions until you tell him what you have.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. I’d be happy to tell them.” Mac quickly replied. “What will Hisle do then?”
“At that point, he’ll decide whether his client has anything to say.” Sally looked away for a moment, and then continued. “He’ll ask for some time to confer with his client.”
“And then they’ll decide if he’ll answer any questions.”
“Right.”
“And if he doesn’t say anything?”
“Then we’ll decide what to do. Charge him, continue to investigate, whatever. You can give them the standard line that this is his chance to get in front of this, but Hisle’ll tell him not to answer. If so, we’ll just have to see…”
“But… we’ll know a lot more after tomorrow,” said Mac, finishing the thought.
“Yes.”
Lyman and the senator enjoyed a fine meal of steak, potatoes, Caesar salad, and red wine at Lyman’s house on the St. Croix. Following dinner they retired to the library to have a brandy, a cigar and talk about the case.
“So, how do we handle this tomorrow?” the senator asked.
“We’ll have to find out where they’re coming from, Mason.”
“What if they won’t tell us?”
“Don’t worry about that. They will. They want you to talk. Like I said, when I called Flanagan, he was getting ready to call you.”
A frown came down the senator’s face, “If I read between the lines here, they have me in their crosshairs.”
“Perhaps,” mused Lyman. “But they haven’t charged you. They haven’t put your name out there. Heck, my contacts in the department don’t even know who they have for a suspect.”
The senator was skeptical. “These contacts, would they even tell you if they knew?”
“The people I’ve called, yes. They owe me for previous services rendered.”
The senator took a sip of his brandy. “So, if we find out what they have, what do I say?”
“We’ll see. I may not have you answer questions at all.”
“Lyman,” he growled, “I can’t do that. I do that and I’m done. I’m Gary Condit. The media’ll have a field
