“Walter, what do you have going tonight?” I asked.
“A small dinner party with friends. They’ve invited Dominick Dunne. Then I am going to watch the first cut of a film my studio is producing with Johnny Depp playing a detective.”
“Well, call your friends and call Johnny and cancel it all. You’re having dinner with me. We’re going to work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been ducking me since the trial began. That was okay because I didn’t want to know what I didn’t need to know. Now it’s different. We’re in trial, we’re past discovery, and I need to know. Everything, Walter. So, we’re going to talk tonight, or you’re going to have to hire another lawyer in the morning.”
I saw his face grow tight with checked anger. In that moment, I knew he could be a killer, or at least someone who could order it done.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.
“Try me.”
We stared at each other for a moment and I saw something about his face relax.
“Make your calls,” I finally said. “We’ll take my car.”
Forty-one
Since I had insisted on the meeting, Elliot insisted on the place. With a thirty-second phone call he got us a private booth at the Water Grill over by the Biltmore and had a martini waiting on the table for him when we got there. As we sat down, I asked for a bottle of flat water and some sliced lemons.
I sat across from my client and watched him study the fresh fish menu. For the longest time I had wanted to be in the dark about Walter Elliot. Usually the less you know about your client, the better able you are to provide a defense. But we were past that time now.
“You called it a dinner meeting,” Elliot said without taking his eyes from the menu. “Aren’t you going to look?”
“I’m having what you’re having, Walter.”
He put the menu to the side and looked at me.
“Fillet of sole.”
“Sounds good.”
He signaled a waiter who had been standing nearby but too intimidated to approach the table. Elliot ordered for us both, adding a bottle of Chardonnay to come with the fish, and told the waiter not to forget about my flat water and lemon. He then clasped his hands on the table and looked expectantly at me.
“I could be dining with Dominick Dunne,” he said. “This better be good.”
“Walter, this is going to be good. This is going to be where you stop hiding from me. This is where you tell me the whole story. The true story. You see, if I know what you know, then I’m not going to get sandbagged by the prosecution. I am going to know what moves Golantz is going to make before he makes them.”
Elliot nodded as though he agreed it was time to deliver the goods.
“I did not kill my wife or her Nazi friend,” he said. “I have told you that from day one.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not good enough. I said I want the story. I want to know what really happened, Walter. I want to know what’s going on or I’m going to be moving on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No judge is going to let you walk away in the middle of a trial.”
“You want to bet your freedom on that, Walter? If I want off this case, I will find a way off it.”
He hesitated and studied me before answering.
“You should be careful what you ask for. Guilty knowledge could be a dangerous thing.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“But I’m not sure I can.”
I leaned across the table to him.
“What does that mean, Walter? What is going on? I’m your lawyer. You can tell me what you’ve done and it stays with me.”
Before he could speak, the waiter brought a bottle of European water to the table and a side plate of sliced lemons. Enough for everybody in the restaurant. Elliot waited until he had filled my glass and moved away and out of earshot before responding.
“What is going on is that you have been hired to present my defense to the jury. In my estimation you have done an excellent job so far and your preparations for the defense phase are on the highest level. All of this in two weeks. Astonishing!”
“Drop the bullshit!”
I said it too loud. Elliot looked outside the booth and stared down a woman at a nearby table who had heard the expletive.
“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” he said. “The bond of attorney-client confidentiality ends at this table.”
I looked at him. He was smiling but I also knew he was reminding me of what I had already assured him of, that what was said here stayed here. Was it a signal that he was willing to finally talk? I played the only ace I had.
“Tell me about the bribe Jerry Vincent paid,” I said.
At first I detected a momentary shock in his eyes. Then came a knowing look as the wheels turned inside and he put something together. Then I thought I saw a quick flash of regret. I wished Julie Favreau had been sitting next to me. She could have read him better than I could.
“That is a very dangerous piece of information to be in possession of,” he said. “How did you get it?”
I obviously couldn’t tell my client I got it from a police detective I was now cooperating with.
“I guess you could say it came with the case, Walter. I have all of Vincent’s records, including his financials. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he funneled a hundred thousand of your advance to an unknown party. Is the bribe what got him killed?”
Elliot raised his martini glass with two fingers clenching the delicate stem and drank what was left in it. He then nodded to someone unseen over my shoulder. He wanted another. Then he looked at me.
“I think it is safe to say a confluence of events led to Jerry Vincent’s death.”
“Walter, I’m not fucking around with you. I need to know – not only to defend you, but to protect myself.”
He put his empty glass to the side of the table and someone whisked it away within two seconds. He nodded as if in agreement with me and then he spoke.
“I think you may have found the reason for his death,” he said. “It was in the file. You even mentioned it to me.”
“I don’t understand. What did I mention?”
Elliot responded in an impatient tone.
“He planned to delay the trial. You found the motion. He was killed before he could file it.”
I tried to put it together but I didn’t have enough of the parts.
“I don’t understand, Walter. He wanted to delay the trial and that got him killed? Why?”
Elliot leaned across the table toward me. He spoke in a tone just above a whisper.
“Okay, you asked for it and I’ll tell you. But don’t blame me when you wish you didn’t know what you know. Yes, there was a bribe. He paid it and everything was fine. The trial was scheduled and all we had to do was be ready to go. We had to stay on schedule. No delays, no continuances. But then he changed his mind and wanted to delay.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think he actually thought he could win the case without the fix.”
It appeared that Elliot didn’t know about the FBI’s phone calls and apparent interest in Vincent. If he did know, now would have been the time to mention it. The FBI’s focus on Vincent would have been as good a reason as any to delay a trial involving a bribery scheme.
“So delaying the trial got him killed?”
“That’s my guess, yes.”
“Did you kill him, Walter?”
“I don’t kill people.”
“You had him killed.”
Elliot shook his head wearily.
“I don’t have people killed either.”
A waiter moved up to the booth with a tray and a stand and we both leaned back to let him work. He deboned our fish, plated them and put them down on the table along with two small serving pitchers with beurre blanc sauce in them. He then placed Elliot’s fresh martini down along with two wineglasses. He uncorked the bottle Elliot had ordered and asked if he wanted to taste the wine yet. Elliot shook his head and told the waiter to go away.