11

 

 

“When will you get a copy of the homicide investigator’s case file?” I asked. He’d already offered me a stipend to work the case that was twice what I would have asked.

“If I agree to represent her, I will get all of the discovery material, including the police reports.”

“But not before?”

“Typically, no. But if she consents and her current attorney doesn’t object—”

“Wait. I thought she fired him.”

“Is firing him. He was appointed by the court. It’s a process.”

“Not in my experience. Getting fired is a pretty definitive act. As in ‘You’re fired,’ and that’s it.”

“Look at it this way,” Harrity said. “She has indicated her intent to relieve him of his duties, but hasn’t done so yet. He will remain her attorney of record until another representative accepts the role, or is assigned by the court.”

“So this lame duck lawyer…”

“Is still her lawyer. He must continue to represent her best interests.”

“Why would sharing the case file be against those interests?”

He looked at me for a moment, saying nothing.

Then I understood. “Well, there’s your answer. If she didn’t do it, why would she object to sharing the case file with the guy she wants to defend her?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Lawyers just make it more complicated.”

Harrity didn’t react to the jab. Instead, he said, “Think back to when you were a police officer. Were there things about that job that the general public didn’t understand? Things such as many of your safety precautions, even with people that didn’t seem to be a threat?”

“The public didn’t seem to get most of what we did,” I conceded. “Especially things like that.”

“But those policies or procedures or decisions had good reason behind them, correct?”

I nodded.

“Even if the lay people of River City thought matters should be far more simple?”

I nodded again. “Okay, I get it.”

“If I were her attorney, I would be against sharing any information about the case, the investigation, or my defense with anyone who was not a part of the defense team. There are too many things that could go wrong.”

“So the public defender is making the right call.”

“In my estimation, yes.”

“Can you just agree to take the case on the condition that you review the material first?”

“I could, but I wouldn’t. Nor would I expect her attorney to agree.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“If I agree to represent a client, I do so completely. Not conditionally.”

I didn’t bother asking him to take the case and just bail if the materials proved her guilty. That would go against his personal code of ethics, as well. I knew first-hand that that code was non-negotiable.

“Coming to any conclusion about her guilt or innocence is going to be difficult without the investigative file.”

“I realize that. But I don’t expect you to come to an absolute conclusion. That’s the purpose of the courtroom. I only need your best judgment.”

I smiled grimly. “I don’t have the best track record when it comes to judgment. In fact, I think that’s how we met.”

Harrity was in no mood for humor. “Quite the contrary. Your actions were in conflict with the law. They may have been bad decisions in that regard. But they weren’t in poor judgment as it relates to the human element. You have something of a knack for that.”

“Human element? I’m not sure I get what you mean.”

He considered a moment, then said, “How about this, then. You concern yourself more with the morality of a situation than the legality of it.”

I thought about that. Maybe he was right. “All right. Do you have anything at all to help me get started?”

He picked up an unmarked file from his desk and handed it to me. “I’ve compiled some basic information on Henry and Marie, as well as some questions I’d like you to consider, and try to answer.”

I took the file. It was painfully thin. I had one more issue to resolve. “You know I’m not a private investigator, right?”

“Of course. But state law doesn’t require you to be a licensed investigator to conduct an informal investigation. Just don’t misrepresent yourself as being one. Or as a police officer, for that matter.”

I knew that. “No kidding.”

He gave me a pointed look. Not an accusation, but a knowing stare.

I shrugged. “I understand. I just assumed you’d want someone with official status, is all.”

“I called you,” he said plainly. “I want you.”

“Why? You can afford to hire the best private investigation firm in the city. Or the sleaziest, if that’s what you want.”

He nodded slowly, a slightly pained expression crossing his face. “I could. But in this situation, I’m more comfortable asking you.”

“Why?” I don’t know why it mattered to me, but it did. I respected Harrity, and he had helped me out, but we weren’t exactly friends.

“May I speak candidly?”

“Sure. We’ve got attorney-client privilege, right?”

He ignored my joke. Or maybe we really did have attorney-client privilege. I wasn’t sure.

“I asked you because I need someone with the investigative ability of those expensive firms, but a willingness to do what is necessary. What is right, even if it isn’t…orthodox.”

We sat quietly for a moment while I chewed on that. His meaning didn’t change the more I chewed, and the more I chewed, the less I liked that it was probably true. But neither one was a reason to say no, so after a while, I stood up and offered my hand.

“I’ll get to work.”

He clasped my hand and shook it, his palm damp. “Thank you.”

I tucked the file under my arm and headed out the door.