He was leading the conversation where he wanted it. “It was eleven-thirty. There aren’t many people who have alibis for that time of night. I bet you don’t have one for that night.”
“That’s true, I don’t. But that’s not the only evidence they have on him.” She looked down at the cigarette. “At least according to the papers.”
Chandler nodded. No alibi; just what he wanted to hear.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to step outside for a moment to take a few drags. I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”
“No problem.” Take all the time you want.
As she arose from her seat, the busboy came over and began to clear the table. Chandler caught sight of the other cigarette, grabbed it by the end, and placed it in a plastic Ziploc bag he pulled from his jacket pocket.
While Chandler waited for Harding to return, he paid the bill and then stood up to stretch his back, which had begun to ache. Ten minutes after she had left for “a few drags,” he walked outside to see what was keeping her. He wanted to ask her a few more questions and then get her cigarette over to the lab for analysis. He waited outside the restaurant, tapping his foot as the seconds passed. Finally, realizing she was not going to return; finally, he left.
After arriving at the lab fifteen minutes later, he was escorted to the tool impression lab, where Gray was focusing a microscope.
Holding up the Ziploc bag, Chandler said, “I need a favor.”
Gray stood there, looking poker-faced at Chandler, as if he were speaking a foreign language. In that instant, Chandler couldn’t decide if Gray’s expression was Give me a break, or I don’t owe you any favors. Maybe both.
“This cigarette has saliva on it,” Chandler said, forging ahead, “as well as a lip print. I need to know if it matches the DNA and the lip print on the cans of beer.”
Gray shook his head and made a face. Turned and walked away.
“Hey, this is important, I think I’ve got something here.”
Gray turned hard and faced Chandler, who was following close behind. “In case you don’t realize it, this is not your private lab. Maybe that’s the way you do things in New York. Pulling strings to get private evidence analyzed in a state lab. Won’t fly here. And if anyone found out,” he said with a shrug, “might cause problems for your client. Don’t you think?”
Chandler could feel his face turning red-no doubt a deep shade of crimson.
“And your pal Lou is on vacation for two weeks,” Gray continued. “Left yesterday evening. Some kind of fishing trip, I think. Good luck trying to locate him.” He let a thin smile spread his lips. “Oh, but the DA did give the okay to test the saliva on the cans for DNA.”
“That hasn’t been started yet?”
“I do what I’m told. Except when you tell me to do something.”
“Hang on a minute,” Chandler said, trying to contain his anger. “I’m here for only one reason: to get to the bottom of this crime. My client’s innocent. He didn’t kill those people. So in my short time here, I have to find out who did. Isn’t that what we’re all after? Finding the real guilty person and punishing him?”
Gray did not answer. Instead, he turned to walk away.
Chandler grabbed his arm and gently pulled him back.
“Let go of me,” Gray said calmly.
When Chandler released his grip, Gray brushed his hair back and returned to the stool in front of his microscope.
“How hard will it be to run the lip print for me?” Chandler asked, his tone softer. “Tell you what. If the lip print doesn’t produce a reasonable and probable match with the beer can, then I give up, okay? You won’t see me again.” He paused to let this sink in. “But if there is a reasonable match, you’ll run those DNA samples.” If he refused, Chandler could still take the cigarette back with him to New York and run the test himself-but it would add a few variables that he wished to avoid: a different lab, accusations of bias, chain of custody issues, and the danger of contaminating the sample during the trip.
And even then, once he had his DNA results, trying to get a copy of the beer can’s DNA pattern from Gray would be like asking your worst enemy for a loan. It just was not going to happen. He would have to have Hellman handle it through the court. Time consuming. Messy.
Gray stood there, appearing to chew on the offer for a moment. Chandler knew what he was thinking: it would rid him of Chandler’s presence-which was threatening to become as annoying as his dandruff itch. And he would not have to face Palucci’s wrath when he returned.
Gray took the plastic bag without saying so much as a word and headed out of the room.
“Do we have a deal?” Chandler yelled after him.
“Yeah,” Gray shouted back as he turned the comer and walked into the hallway.
CHAPTER 46
The sun had set half an hour ago and the wind had whipped up a bit, bringing a cool chill to the air. It was 45 and headed down to the low 30s.
When Chandler arrived at the Madison home, Hellman was getting out of his car with a small bouquet of flowers. They walked up the front steps together and chatted for a moment before Leeza answered the door.
“Jeffrey, these are beautiful,” she said, taking the flowers from him and bringing them up to her nose. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Hellman said.
“So what was the purpose of the motion you filed?” Chandler asked as he walked into the living room.
“The whole idea was to keep this thing from degenerating into a three-ring circus. I wanted the cameras out of the courtroom during the entire proceedings.”
“And?” Madison asked, entering the room. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the back of Leeza’s neck as she placed the cut flowers in a vase.
“And the judge agreed and granted the motion. You should’ve seen Denton’s face.”
“Must’ve been ten shades of red,” Chandler said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I’m sure he wasn’t happy about giving up the spotlight.”
Hellman bobbed his head. “It’s still an important case for him, he just loses some of the fanfare that goes along with it. But I had an idea. I think we should offer to do an interview with that reporter from KMRA. It’d give the media some things to chomp on, divert their focus away from Phil.”
“It seems like everyone assumes I’m guilty before I even go to trial. I can’t even go to the zoo with my family without being harassed by nuts who’ve seen the news painting me as a dreg of society.”
Chandler rubbed his forehead, contorted his face. “A TV interview.”
“I know you didn’t want to think about peripheral matters,” Hellman said, “but a strategic, exclusive interview could neutralize the negative PR and actually work to our benefit.”
“Isn’t this precisely what you argued against in front of the judge today?” Madison asked.
“This is different. It gives us a chance to have equal time after that bogus report Mather did on his interview with John Stevens. We do this one spot and that’s it. Then we stay away from the media. But I really think it could have a positive effect.”
“How do you figure?” Madison asked.
“We tell the press we believe we’ve found the real killer and are in the process of building enough evidence that will not only exonerate you, but will implicate someone else. And of course once we have all the evidence in order, we’ll cooperate fully with the police and turn it all over to them.”
“The police,” Chandler said, “are going to be pissed as hell. You’re showing them up. They accused the wrong guy, so you are going to show them the right way to conduct an investigation. You’re such a damned good attorney that you’re not only going to get the charges against your client dismissed, but you’re also going to hand them the real killer. After all, they’re just a bunch of screw-ups.” He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Don’t expect them to be your buddies.”
Madison took a seat beside Chandler at the table. “Why don’t we give Denton what we have now and see if they’ll cooperate with us?”