for a reason. You've proven that you've got a real compassion for
victims, and I know you've got the ability to be diplomatic and to show
this office in its very best light. I also thought it was a chance for
you to ease into the new rotation with an MCT call-out.
"But I assumed at the time that Clarissa Easterbrook would turn up.
Obviously, she did not, and as a result of my decision you're now on
one of the highest profile murder cases we've had in a long time. If
we're going to take you off it, we should do it sooner rather than
later. Less disruption for the family and for MCT."
"I don't want to be pulled off," I said. "I've already talked to Russ
about this, and he's going to oversee as necessary."
"My concern isn't with your experience or your skills. You're a
terrific attorney."
"But you have a concern?"
"Susan Kerr called me today," he said, sitting back into his chair and
steepling his fingers.
"She told me she was going to. I take it you know her?"
"It's hard not to know her when you've got a public life in Portland.
Bert Kerr had his hand in everything, a big fund raiser for progressive
causes. I remember when I first ran for this office, he bought me an
eighteen-year-old whiskey at Huber s and asked me what I was going to
do as district attorney. He wasn't happy with the typical sound bites;
he pressed me on everything: standing up to the police about reverse
drug buys, the death penalty, improving the quality of life for
neighborhoods. When we were done and I'll never forget it he said,
"You're about as good a man as we're gonna get for a job that puts
human beings in cages." A month later, he raised $40,000 for my
campaign on a single night.
"Susan don't call her Sue or Susie was his new wife back then, and you
can bet the tongues were wagging. She was probably about your age,
and, my God, she was wild. Everyone assumed she was in it for the
money and would be banging the pool boy on the side. But once people
talked to her, they just fell in love. She never tried to act like
something she wasn't. And she came through for Bert in the end. He
was a mess his last couple of years, and she worked her tail off to
make sure no one knew it. A good friend of mine told me that by his
last days she was basically running the show, signing his name, doing
whatever she needed to create the appearance that Bert was still going
strong. So, yeah, she can throw her weight around with the best of
them, but I have a lot of respect for her."
"What did she say about the case?"
"She said she appreciated the police coming to her home for her
convenience. She was also pleased to have an attorney on the case so
early. Less likely to have any problems that way. She wanted
assurances you'd be free to oversee things, which I. of course, gave
her."
"But?"
He chuckled. "Always jumping to the bad news, aren't you? As far as
buts go, this one was minor. Let me ask you: Where is this
investigation heading? Is the husband a suspect?"
"Not at this point. He hasn't set off anyone's hunch bells yet, and
he's alibied at OHSU all day Sunday. But he's not cleared, either, so
it's natural that the police are still keeping him in mind."
"Susan was concerned about the tone of the questions about the victim's
marriage. She got the impression that the police might be looking in
only one direction."
I tried to assure him that the police, if anything, were leaning
against the husband as a suspect. I told him about Melvin Jackson and
the search for any sex offenders near the crime scene.
"Why did the police ask Dr. Easterbrook to take a polygraph last
night?"
"They didn't. They've mentioned the possibility, but we haven't made a
decision about whether that's the right way to go yet."
"Maybe you've got some mixed signals. Susan Kerr tells me that the
police, in addition to being very curious about the state of the
Easterbrooks' marriage, asked the husband for a poly last night, just
minutes after telling him that his wife's body had been found. That's
why she was upset enough to call me."
"Shit. Well, she didn't mention it to me, and she just left me a
message this morning."
"She thought it would be best not to put you in an awkward position
between her and your detectives, so she brought her concerns to me."
"I don't know what to say, Duncan. I'll ask the MCT guys about it."
"Good. I need you to be the woman you're being today on this,
Samantha, the person who came in here for your interview; not the
hothead who puts a line of attorneys outside my door complaining about
bad behavior."
It has never been a line: a slow dribble, maybe. "I only know how to
be one person, sir."
"Dammit, Sam. You know what I mean. I'm just warning you, you're
dealing with some very influential people on this one who don't look
kindly on mistakes. In addition to Mrs. Kerr, you've got Townsend
Easterbrook. Let me be clear: If he's the guy, you crush him. But not
until there's good reason to. He's not your typical perp who's used to
being thrown against the car and frisked for looking the wrong way.
He's the chief administrative surgeon at OHSU. For Christ's sake, the
man singlehandedly got the hospital's pediatric transplant wing off the
ground again after everyone wrote the project off as dead. He's Mother
Teresa with a penis."
"So you're asking me to give these people special treatment." It
wasn't a question.
"If you could even begin to think like a realist, you'd know I was
asking you to give them the expected treatment."
There was no use putting up a fight over this, since I'd already been
treating Townsend and Susan "as expected." I assured him I got the
message, loud and clear.
Back at my desk, I put in a page to Johnson. Why hadn't he told me
about the polygraph? My phone sat silent, though, as I finished
screening duty with just a few more strokes of the pen. I couldn't
wait here all day for him to call it was time to get my hands on
Clarissa's files.
I got lucky. My first choice judge, David Lesh, had just finished a
plea and was working in his chambers. Lesh was a former prosecutor. He
was also a former employee of the City Attorney's Office, but his job
there was to advise the police. He wouldn't look kindly on Dennis
Coakley's obstructionism.
He gave me a warm welcome. "Get in here, Kincaid. I haven't seen you
since all hell broke loose. How are you holding up? You look
great."
"Thanks, Judge." Lesh was a regular fixture on the happy-hour circuit
and an absolute nut, but his position required certain formalities.