“Sorry,” Hellman said.
Denton waved him off. “Shit, I would’ve done the same thing. You saw an opportunity for your client.”
“Mather pissed me off with that bullshit report from Sacramento General. I felt I had to get some positive press to neutralize it.”
“I can take some heat from Calvino. It’s not a big deal.”
“Look, Tim…” started Hellman, unsure if he should go any further. “I have a thought on who may be the real murderer. You interested?”
Denton stifled a laugh, and then realized that Hellman was serious. He pushed the down button again. “Damn elevators.”
“I’m not kidding. And I’m not just saying this as a defense ploy. I’ve known my client for thirty years. I really believe that Phil Madison is innocent. I know he is.”
“Jeffrey, need I tell you how many times I’ve heard that from defense counsel?”
“Tim, you and I also go back a long time. We’ve had our fights over the years, some tough cases. But I’ve always been aboveboard with you. How many times have I told you I don’t like your wardrobe?” he asked, smiling. This drew a smirk from Denton. “Point is, I’ve always considered you a straight shooter, and you know I am too.”
“So what do you want me to do, drop the charges? It isn’t going to happen, Jeffrey, even if I do believe you-which I don’t.”
“All I ask is that you look at things with an open mind. Don’t sell my client down the river. Don’t use him as a political stepping-stone-”
“Stop right there, Jeffrey,” he said, his face getting red. Wrong button to push. “I don’t have to listen to this. Political stepping-stone,” he repeated. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Suggesting that I would prosecute someone just because they’re high-profile, all for my personal gain?”
Hellman stared him down.
The elevator came, and they entered together. “Just tell me that if I turn something over to you and it makes sense, that you’ll give it unbiased consideration. Because when I get everything together, I’m confident that you’ll have enough to at least reopen your investigation and dig until this other lead proves either sweet or sour.”
Denton, who did not say a word, just stared at the control panel, still apparently seething at the suggestion of impropriety.
“Tim, one of the basic tenets of our criminal justice system is to protect the rights of an innocent man to the extent that if there’s any reasonable doubt that he committed a crime, he’s supposed to be set free. It’s better to let a guilty man go free than to put an innocent man in prison.” He paused, knowing that Denton was well aware of the legal rhetoric. “All I’m asking for is an open mind. Will you at least do that?”
Hellman detected a barely perceptible nod. He gave an affectionate nudge to Denton’s shoulder as the doors opened. “Sorry I hurt your feelings,” Hellman said.
He walked out and down the hall toward the parking lot, hoping the seed he’d planted would take root just enough to pry open Denton’s notoriously closed mind.
CHAPTER 49
Shortly after lunch, Chandler drove to Mark Stanton’s office for a follow-up interview. First on his list of questions was how he’d handled Harding’s sexual harassment payoff a couple of years ago. It was a matter that could be handled over the phone, but Chandler’s method of doing business was always face-to-face whenever possible, and it appeared that that was the way Stanton preferred it as well.
There were two people dressed in business attire sitting in the lobby of Stanton’s plush suite, patiently awaiting appointments with him. Chandler walked in and announced his arrival to the secretary, an attractive thirty-year-old with a headset affixed to her ear. She nodded to him, asked him to have a seat, and alerted Stanton that Chandler had arrived.
A moment later, she led him back. Stanton was on the phone and motioned to Chandler to have a seat.
“I’m faxing it right now.” He punched a couple of keys on his computer, then said, “Sure, drop me an email once you’ve had a chance to review it. Or we can Skype, yes.”
“Sorry,” Stanton said as he hung up the phone. “Client in China. An American company attempting to open a branch and expand their distribution. They already have a presence in Europe-but you didn’t come here to discuss my business.”
“Thanks for taking the time to see me,” Chandler said. “The case for my client is coming together nicely, but the icing on the cake would be your testimony. We need it to establish motive.”
“I spoke with my attorney, as I told you I would. He recommended against getting involved. He said I paid a lot of money to put the incident behind me, and that’s precisely what I should do. I shouldn’t stick my nose in any more sexual harassment suits. Especially as a witness.”
“Oh, this isn’t sexual harassment, Mr. Stanton. It’s murder.”
Stanton sat forward in his seat. “Murder? How does Brittany Harding fit into a murder case?”
“We have evidence and reason to believe that she killed two people and is trying to frame my client for it. If convicted, he could be facing life imprisonment.” He looked at Stanton’s face: his brows were furrowed and his mouth agape. Chandler was getting through.
“She’d falsely accused him of raping her a few months back, and then demanded a payment of fifty thousand dollars. Like you, he decided it was better to pay than suffer the publicity it would generate. But that wasn’t enough for her. She sent a copy of the check to his wife, violating the agreement she’d made with him, and his attorney forced her attorney-Movis Ehrhardt-to return the money. Harding was furious, and framed him with this murder.
“The evidence against my client is all circumstantial, but it may just be enough to convince a jury. Your testimony as to her prior conduct and behavior will establish a pattern and fit well with what we have on her so far.”
Stanton shifted in his seat. “Murder,” he said. His telephone intercom buzzed. “Mr. Stanton, Judy Myers on line four.”
“Take a message and tell her I’ll call her back in ten minutes.”
“You also have Ms. Bieles and Mr. Canvir waiting.”
“Okay, Amanda,” he said, a slight edge to his voice. “Then tell Judy I’ll call her back in an hour.”
He arose from behind his desk and walked over to one of the paintings on his wall. As he removed it, a safe was visible; he began spinning the tumbler, placing his body between the wheel and Chandler’s line of sight. Chandler looked away obligingly. Stanton fumbled around in the safe, pulled out a DVD, and handed it to Chandler.
“What’s this?”
“My meeting with Harding, when I gave her the check. I got her to talk about the payoff, why she was doing this to me. She admitted it was all for the money. She said I could afford it, and aside from being out the money, no harm would come to me. Watch it. It’s all there. Pretty damning, if you ask me.”
Chandler was struck speechless by his good luck. “Why’d you film it?” he finally managed.
“Just in case she tried to extort more from me in the future. You know, a bimonthly occurrence, like drawing a paycheck.”
“Why didn’t your attorney handle the transaction?”
“He said I should do it. He had some private investigator come in and set up a tiny camera, right there,” he said, nodding to a tall, leafy plant. “He was watching the whole thing go down on a monitor in another room down the hall. Handled it all by wireless remote.”
Chandler liked this attorney, whoever he was. Knew how to play ball.
“Take it, make a copy of it. Just don’t lose it. I should’ve made a copy of it a long time ago, but never got around to it. I don’t have a DVD burner at the office.”
Chandler was reluctant to take responsibility for it, but he was too curious to see what was on it to turn it down. “I’ll get it back to you right away,” he said. “About testifying…”