Then, as his case began to get away from him, he became strident, demanding and rude. I had the feeling he thought my legal motions were part of some conspiracy aimed at him.
"Two years later, we tried a case in John Day. He was offensive from the start. Paranoid about every detail. I prevailed on a motion to suppress the state's key evidence, so the case never came to trial.
Later, I learned that he violated the discovery rules by failing to notify me about a witness whose testimony would have been damning. I have the impression that when he's under pressure he'll do anything to win."
"Is Geddes ambitious?"
"Very. And now, if I may," Reynolds asked, sighting Abbie over his tented fingers, "why this sudden interest in Mr. Geddes?"
An array of emotions crossed Abbie's face. She looked down and gathered herself. When she raised her head, her features showed the strain of maintaining her composure.
"I need a lawyer to represent me."
"In what type of case?"
"Yesterday, Geddes came to my home to question me about Robert's death.
I'm a suspect." Reynolds sat up. "He had a warrant to search my house.
They have a witness who says I'm involved and evidence that supposedly supports the accusation."
"Who is the witness?"
"They won't tell me. Geddes treated me like a criminal." Abbie's heart was beating furiously and she had to breathe deeply before she could say the next sentence. "I have the feeling that it's only a matter of time before I'm . . . arrested."
"This is preposterous. Have you talked with Jack Stamm?"
"Jack is off the case. Geddes has been appointed a special deputy district attorney. He'll run the investigation and he'll prosecute."
"I can give you the names of several excellent defense attorneys."
"No. I want you to represent me."
Reynolds looked at Abbie and she sensed that he was torn by conflicting emotions.
"I'm flattered, Mrs. Griffen, but I don't see how I can do that when you're prosecuting Jeffrey Coulter."
"I'm not. I'm suspended. Dennis Haggard has the Coulter case."
"Jack Stature suspended you?"
"I was angry at first. I'm still angry. I'm furious. But Jack had no choice. I'm a suspect in a murder case his office is investigating. In any event, there is no conflict."
"Why me?" Matthew asked.
Abbie's expression was grim. "You're the best, Matthew. If I'm charged I'll need the best. They wouldn't have gone this far if they didn't think they had a case. Searching the home of a deputy district attorney... . . ." Abbie shook her head. "There's no way Geddes would have done that unless there was strong evidence of guilt."
"Are you guilty?"
Abbie looked directly at Matthew. "I did not kill my husband," she said firmly.
Matthew studied her, then said, "You have yourself a lawyer."
The uncertainty that clouded Abbie's features vanished like mist evaporating in sunlight. Her shoulders relaxed and she slumped down, visibly relieved. "I was afraid you wouldn't help me."
"Why?"
"Because . . . I don't know. Coulter. The fact that I'm a prosecutor."
"You're a human being in trouble and I'm going to do everything I can to protect you."
"Thank you, Matthew. You don't know what that means to me.
"It means our relationship has changed. First, we're no longer adversaries. We work together from now on. Second, I'm still an attorney, but in this relationship you're not. You're my client.
That's going to feel strange to you. Especially since you're used to being in charge. From now on, I'm in charge. Can you accept that?"
"Of course. But I can help. I want to participate in my defense."
"Of course you'll participate, but not as an attorney. It wouldn't work. You've seen what happens when a defendant represents himself.
You're too emotionally involved to be objective."
"I know, but . . ."
"If we're going to work together you've got to trust my judgment. Can you do that?"
"I . . . I don't know. I'm not used to being helpless."
"I'm not asking you to be helpless. I'm asking you to trust me.
As of this moment, your case is the single most important matter in this office. Do you believe that?"
Matthew's bright blue eyes blazed with a passionate intensity that transformed his plain features. Abbie had seen Reynolds like this before, in the Supreme Court, when he challenged the justices to be fair to Jeffrey Coulter. A calm feeling flooded over her.
"Yes, I believe you."
"Good. Then we can begin. And the first thing I want to do is explain the attorney-client relationship to you."
"I'm aware of . . ." Abbie started, but Matthew held up his hand.
"Do you believe that I respect your intelligence and your abilities as an attorney?"
"I . . . Yes."
"I am not trying to insult you. I am trying to help you. This is not a position you've been in before. You're a client and a suspect in a murder. I'm going to give you every piece of advice I give to every other client. I'm going to assume nothing, because I don't want to make the mistake of skipping a step because of the respect I have for your abilities."
"Okay."
"Abbie, everything you tell me is confidential. I will guard your disclosures completely. I am the only person on earth in whom you can confide with the certainty that what you say will not be repeated to the people investigating you.
"I don't want you to be upset by what I say next. I am a criminal defense attorney. Many of the people I represent are criminals and many of these people lie to me at some point during my representation. I am never upset when they lie. I know that people under pressure do things that they would never do under normal circumstances. So if you intend to lie to me, I won't be upset, but you could cause me to go off and do something that would put you in a worse position than you would be in if you told me the truth."
Abbie sat up straight in her seat and looked into Matthew's eyes. "I will never lie to you, Matthew," she said with great intensity. "I promise you that."
"Good. Then tell me why Chuck Geddes thinks you murdered your husband.
Let's start with motive."
"We were separated, if that's what you mean," Abbie said, coloring slightly.
"Was the separation amicable?"
"No."
"Whose idea was it to separate?"
"Mine," Abbie said firmly.
"Justice Griffen wanted to stay married?"
"Robert liked to live well," Abbie answered, unable to hide her bitterness, "but he couldn't do a lot of that on a judge's salary."
"Surely he had his own money? I thought Justice Griffen had a successful law practice before he went on the bench."
"Robert was intelligent, and he was certainly charming, but he was not a good attorney. He was lazy and he didn't care about his clients. He used to talk about what idiots they were. How much he was overcharging them. After a while, the clients caught on and complained to the other partners. Robert was losing clients. He was making good money at one time, but he spent what he earned and more. As I said, Robert really enjoyed the good life.
He put his name in for the bench because his partners were carrying him and he knew his time at the firm was limited."
"Why did the governor appoint Justice Griffen if his reputation was so bad?"
"It wasn't. Most people saw Robert's corner office with a view of the Willamette, read his name on the door of one of Portland's most prestigious firms and met him in social settings, where he shined.
"Then there were the markers. The firm contributed a great deal of money to the governor's campaign and they wanted Robert out. In all honesty, he wasn't a bad judge. He was always smart. And for a while he tried hard to do a good job. Robert wasn't evil so much as he was self-absorbed."