“I get the picture,” Matt said.
“Overconfidence is dangerous, as I’ve tried to point out to you before,” Washington said. “That is especially true of someone like you, who has an abundance of confidence in himself that is not entirely justified.”
Matt looked at him but didn’t say anything.
“Does this scenario have any appeal at all to you, Counselor? ” Washington said.
“It might even work, Jason,” Cohen said.
“I will accept that as meaning it has your full approval,” Washington said, but it was more a question than a statement.
Cohen thought this over for a moment, then nodded.
“Matt, you go someplace quiet-Mickey’s car, perhaps- with your laptop, and refresh your memory about the details. Your performance will be more effective if you can readily recite from memory, for example, the date he bought the camera.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t have to tell you, do I, not to have your laptop with you? I don’t want it subpoenaed.”
“No, sir.”
“Refreshing your memory should take no more than ten minutes, and during that time, I will set the stage in here and give Sergeant Kenny an understanding of his role-and how important it is-in our theatrical production.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said.
Cohen waited until he was gone and the door had closed behind him.
“Jason, you and I have marched down this path together for a long time,” he said. “And you know I’ll go to the wire and beyond for you. But will you tell me why you’re sending Matt to do this? He’s a nice kid, and I really like him, but…”
“Primarily, Steve, for the educational aspects of it. This is his first homicide job.”
“And if he blows it?”
“I don’t think he will. He’s smart, he can think on his feet, et cetera.”
“But if he does?”
“Then we will both-Matt and I, I mean-know he doesn’t belong in Homicide, won’t we?”
“Then it’s sink or swim time, right?”
“I shall have to make note of that phrase,” Washington said. “It is so profound.”
“What about Daniels, if Matt blows it?”
“Then, psychologically guided interrogation having proven ineffective, I fear I shall be forced to revert to the rubber hose system.”
Cohen chuckled.
“That’s really not so funny,” Washington said. “I really would like to work that walking obscenity over with a rubber hose.”
NINETEEN
When Sergeant Kenny led Homer C. Daniels from what the Daphne police department called the detention area into the administrative area and toward the chief’s office, Daniels was even more firmly cuffed and shackled than Jason Washington thought he would be.
The chief of police had gone into his supply room and come out with a white canvas bag labeled “Prisoner Restraint System.” It held three belts made of thick saddle leather and heavy canvas, a Y-shaped chain, and some other accessories. The system looked as if it was rarely used, if it ever had been.
Washington could now see how it worked when installed. The waist belt buckled in the back. On the front, connected to it with heavy chains, were handcuffs. Daniels could move his cuffed wrists no more than a few inches. Daniels’s ankles had smaller versions of the waist belt around them. A short length of chain connected the two ankle restraints together, so that he had to walk with small steps. Another chain ran up his back, split into two, then went over his shoulders and connected with the waist belt. His ability to bend was severely restricted. Washington wondered how he was going to sit down in the restraint.
When Sergeant Kenny led his shuffling prisoner through the door of the chief’s office, Washington said, “Time,” and punched one of the buttons on his Tag Heuer chronograph.
“I never saw anyone actually push the buttons on one of those fancy watches before,” Steve Cohen said in mock wonderment.
Washington held his wrist up so that Cohen could see the dial.
“It is also extremely useful when preparing soft-boiled eggs, Steve. One needn’t make wild guesses about whether three and a half minutes have passed or not.”
“I’m impressed.”
“And well you should be.”
Three minutes and forty seconds later, Sergeant Kenny came through the door, a very large Daphne police officer went in, and then Kenny walked to his office.
“He wants to take a leak,” Kenny said.
“Time,” Washington said, punched several buttons on his watch, and then said, “Splendid.”
Precisely five minutes later, Washington said, “Sergeant Kenny, will you please escort Mr. Daniels back to his cell, so that he may relieve the pressure on his bladder?”
“The more I think about how that guy gets his kicks, the more I’d rather have him piss his pants,” Kenny said.
“That, while a very interesting thought, would almost certainly, as Mr. Cohen would quickly tell us, violate Mr. Daniels’s civil rights,” Washington said.
“Let him have his leak, Kenny,” Cohen said.
It took seven minutes and twenty seconds for Mr. Daniels to be shuffled back and forth to his cell.
“Time,” Washington called, as Daniels shuffled through the door into the chief’s office.
Not quite ten minutes later, Washington said, “Matt, go tell the chief that if Mr. Bernhardt wishes to consult with his client…”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said, and left Kenny’s office.
“Jason, what does your screenplay have to say about Daniels wanting to talk privately with his lawyer?”
“I don’t think he will,” Washington replied. “But if he does, it can only accrue to our advantage. I don’t think he’s seen him since the chief got the search warrants. He would tell him that, I’m sure.”
Roswell Bernhardt, Esq., came into the room. The large Daphne police officer standing outside the chief’s office opened the door for him and he went inside.
“Time,” Washington said, and pushed buttons on his watch.
Matt appeared a minute or so later.
“You are prepared, I presume, Sergeant Payne? You’re on in eight minutes and fifteen seconds.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eight minutes later, Washington said, “Good luck, Matt.”
Matt, carrying a tape recorder and two microphones, walked across the room, waited for the Daphne uniform to open the door, then walked into the chief’s office.
And four minutes after that, came out again.
“You’re on, Steve,” Washington said.
“Yeah, but I’m not going to get canned if I give a lousy performance,” Cohen said, and walked across the room.
Five minutes after that, Chief of Police Charles Yancey came into Sergeant Kenny’s office.
“Am I going to be in the way here?”
“Of course not,” Washington said. “And it gives me the opportunity to tell you again how appreciative we all are for all your assistance.”
