He kept pounding on me, inexorable, like he was fighting the devil himself. I knew he’d eventually win. I just hoped I’d still be alive when he did. It took a while but Sol finally wore down my resistance. The day I quit drinking forever I felt like a splayed catfish, gutted and broken. But it was strange, because at the same time it felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders.
To quote W.C. Fields, “When enough people tell you you’re drunk, sit down.” I sat down.
Monday morning when I walked in the office I handed Mabel the police report and told her about the “hit and run.” I asked her if she had taken care of the insurance premium. Her eyes went blank and she said, “Well, duh,” as she snatched the paper from my hand.
I was eager to tell Sol about the actor, John Barr. I felt he could deal with the authorities at San Quentin and arrange it so I could meet with him. Figuring Sol wouldn’t be in his office this early, I asked Mabel to phone Joyce, his secretary, to see if she could work up a report on Barr to give to Sol the moment he arrived.
After walking into my office, I dialed the Deputy DA’s number. “This is O’Brien. I’m returning Stephen Marshall’s call,” I said to his assistant when she answered.
Instantly he came on the line. “Okay, O’Brien, I’ll cut to the chase. We’re willing to deal on Roberts. Time served.”
“C’mon, Steve, quit jerking my chain.”
“I ain’t kidding, my friend. Your boy will go free and you owe me lunch.”
I sat up in my chair. “Is this for real?”
“Yep, straight from the top. Our exalted leader, Joe Rinehart, has strong connections with Governor Reagan. Rinehart convinced the governor to commute his sentence to time served, pursuant to a sincere admission of guilt by Roberts, of course. He’ll have to reaffirm his guilt, confess to killing the woman, without reservation. No fingers crossed behind his back. He’ll have to sign documents.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. If it were up to me the guy would rot. But your client will have to leave the state. And I mean the minute he hits the street. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, and do not talk to the press. The county will buy him a one-way bus ticket, preferably to someplace far away.”
I was astonished; freedom for Roberts after twenty-nine years, after just being turned down by the parole board? Something wasn’t right.
“Why’s the DA so hot to set Roberts free?”
“What do you care?”
“I want to talk to Rinehart. Get the operator to switch me to his office.”
“Fat chance.” Marshall let out a sardonic chuckle, in essence saying I didn’t rate. A high-powered District Attorney like Joseph Rinehart would never discuss important affairs with a night-school lawyer like me. “What’s the matter with you, O’Brien? You won. Now hotfoot it out to Chino and let Roberts know he caught lightning in a bottle. I’ve already started the paperwork for Reagan to sign. Your client could be free in a few days. One thing, though.”
“What?”
“You have to keep all of this strictly on the QT until it’s a done deal. Reagan is going to announce his candidacy for president. He’ll be running in the ’76 Republican primary. There’s a lavish fundraiser bash being held Friday at the Beverly Wilshire. Big donors, a law and order crowd. After the event he’ll quietly sign the release forms. Remember if the news hits the media before he’s signs the papers, the deal’s off.”
“Any leaks won’t come from me. But when exactly will Roberts be released?” My hand started to shake as the realization that Marshall wasn’t joking swept over me. After twenty-nine years, my client was going to walk in the sun again, a free man.
“If all goes well, we could have everything wrapped up a week. They’ll cut him loose next Monday morning.”
“I’ll head out to Chino to give him the news in person this afternoon.”
“Okay, stop by my office on the way to meet your client. I’ll have the affidavits he’ll have to sign prepared, a document reaffirming his guilt, and a declaration of remorse. A correctional officer will witness the signing. After you see Roberts return the papers to me.”
Marshall hung up and I sat there with the phone receiver in my hand, stunned.
Rita knocked once and walked in. “Good morning, boss, coffee and donuts.” She was wearing a white silk crepe blouse, blue bell-bottom slacks, and one of her billion-watt smiles. She held up a small pink paper sack.
“Hi, Rita,” I muttered, still thinking about the strange offer coming from the DA’s office.
“I’ve been digging some more. Got something interesting to tell you.”
I looked past Rita at the wall, pondering. First, Marshall hauls his ass all the way to Chino to testify against Roberts at the parole hearing. Then when the board decides in his favor, he calls me with an offer of freedom.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Rita set the donut bag on my desk. “Why the funny face?”
Before I could tell Rita the news, the intercom came alive. “Sol’s on line two,” Mabel said.
I cleared my head and picked up the receiver. “Jimmy, I’ve got the information you wanted about John Barr, the prisoner.”
“Sol, I have extraordinary news-”
“Yeah, and I have news about Barr-”
“The DA called with an offer.”
“An offer?”
“Yeah. Get this,” I said, “they’re willing to set Roberts free, a governor commutation, time served.” I told Sol the details of the DA’s proposal. “I’m heading out to Chino this afternoon to tell him the news. But I wonder why they’d want to make a deal.”
“Why wonder?” Sol said. “You earned your fifty-dollar fee. Did anyone happen to mention that you worry too much?”
“Yeah. But-”
“Just chalk this one up in the win column. Now go tell your client he won the lottery.”
“Yeah, after almost thirty years he’ll go free,” I said. “But I still want to see John Barr.”
“Why, what’s Barr got to do with anything?”
I told Sol about the discussion Rita and I had with Francis Q. Jerome at the motion picture retirement home. “Roberts will probably want to know about Sue Harvey. I want to find out for sure if she’s really dead. Jerome wasn’t quite with it. He could be wrong about Sue being killed. But Barr was the last person we know of that had anything to do with her. Can you get the authorities at San Quentin to let me talk to him?”
“That’d be a trick,” Sol said.
“You don’t think you can arrange it?”
“Oh, I could arrange it with the prison honchos, all right. But I don’t think Barr would be in any mood to talk.”
“What not?”
“He’s dead, murdered in his cell last week.”
CHAPTER 15
I mulled over what Sol had told me about John Barr and at first I wondered if his death had anything to do with the case. Maybe someone wanted him dead, someone tied in with the Roberts affair. But apparently his death was just a coincidence. Although the authorities had no clue as to who’d murdered him, they predicted that sooner or later his hostile manner would get him killed. Barr had been a hothead from the start, which jived with what he did to Jerome.
In the joint Barr stirred up more trouble than he could handle, pissing off some of the meanest cons. He was found lying face up in his bunk with a shank-a spoon that had been filed down-planted in his chest. The guards speculated that he must’ve been stabbed in his sleep. Mysteriously, the night he died, his cell door had been left unlocked. The prison authorities would not comment on that tidbit.
It seems because of the altercation with Jerome, Barr had been drummed out of the movie business. After a long downward spiral, a couple of ill-fated marriages, and years of alcohol abuse, he ended up working as a gardener in the posh resort community of Palm Springs. The locals would spot him trimming hedges and gasp, “Aren’t you the movie star, John Barr?” When asked how he learned the art of gardening he always responded, “From watching those Japs who landscaped at my pad in Beverly Hills.”