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wouldn t have been switchin on his computer to check his e-mail this morning.
It d be a week before he could remember his name, let alone his password.
Is that our defense, Tatum? Is that what you want to tell the judge?
I don t have to tell the judge that. I just wanna tell him I didn t do it.
That s my whole point. If you get on the stand, you will be cross-examined.
Colletti s lawyer could throw anything at you.
Nothing I can t handle.
Oh, really? Try this on for size. Jack stepped closer, role-playing as
Gerry s lawyer on cross-examination. Mr. Knight, the first time you ever met
Mr. Colletti was at the reading of Sally Fenning s will. A week ago Tuesday,
correct?
That s right.
Less than two weeks after meeting you, Mr. Colletti is in the emergency
room.
I didn t put him there.
Mr. Knight, since you re a beneficiary under Sally Fenning s will, I m
assuming you also met her at some point, right?
Yeah, once.
When?
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A couple weeks before she died.
You mean a couple weeks before she was murdered, don t you?
Yeah, whatever.
So you met her once in your life, and two weeks later she was shot in the
head.
So what?
Let me ask you this, sir: How many other people have ended up dead or in the
hospital within two weeks of their one and only meeting with you?
Tatum shot a cross look. Too many to fucking count.
Jack stepped out of his role. Good answer, Tatum.
Shit, Jack, I just want to take the stand and tell the judge I didn t do
it.
It doesn t work that way. I m sorry, but if you testify, Colletti s lawyer
will grill you. Before you know it, everyone in that courtroom is going to
know what you used to do for a living, know about the meeting you had with
Sally Fenning, and know that she tried to hire you to put a bullet in her
head. Now, unless you want to leap to the top of the list of suspects in
Sally s shooting, I suggest you take my advice.
Tatum was seething, but Jack seemed to be getting through. What you want me
to do, exactly?
Keep your secrets to yourself, said Jack. Don t take the stand. We ll
stipulate to the entry of a restraining order.
How s that gonna look?
I ll put the best spin on it I can. I ll tell the judge that Mr. Knight
vehemently denies the allegations, but he has absolutely no need to come
within five hundred yards of any of the other beneficiaries anyway. So we ll
stipulate to the restraining order.
Tatum walked to the window and stared out at the parking lot below. You
know, I don t have to tell them about the meeting with Sally.
If you take the stand and perjure yourself, you ll be looking for a new
lawyer.
He let out a mirthless chuckle. Theo warned me you were a goody-two-shoes.
Theo warned me plenty about you, too. And here we both are. So what s it
going to be?
He turned away from the window and faced Jack. Fine. We ll stipulate.
There s just one thing you need to understand.
What?
If that pussy Gerry Colletti ends up with all this money, I m gonna beat the
living hell outta both of you.
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I don t take threats, Tatum.
He gave his lawyer a big smile and a pat on the shoulder. Just kiddin , Jack
buddy.
Jack didn t return the smile. He just opened the door and started back toward
the courtroom.
Twenty
Jack thought he was being watched, and he was right.
After the probate hearing he d said good-bye to Tatum at the courthouse
doors, and he continued alone to his car. Two men matched him step for step
across the cracked and buckled asphalt, all the way into the fenced-in parking
lot. The younger one walked with a cocky roll, chin aloft, his eyes catching
his reflection in each tinted car window they passed, as if the title song
toShaft were on continuous playback in his head. The older man had a slight
stoop and the dour expression of someone who worried too much about problems
he couldn t solve, problems that kept him working late, kept him up at night,
and kept his bar tab running. Even if Jack hadn t known Rick Larsen, he would
have guessed he was a veteran homicide detective.
They weren t exactly friends, but Jack and he shared a certain mutual
respect. Plenty of good cops had given Jack the benefit of the doubt over the
years, if only because Jack s father had been a cop before embarking on a long
political road that culminated with two terms in the governor s mansion.
Jack s personal history with Detective Larsen ran deeper than that. As a much
younger detective, Larsen had worked the file on Theo Knight, part of the team
that had put the wrong man on death row. Not until the DNA tests were back
could he confide in Jack offthe record, of course and tell him that his rookie
doubts about Theo s guilt had been squelched by his supervisors.
Who s the new partner? asked Jack as he turned to face them.
Larsen smiled as he pulled the unlit cigar plug from between his teeth. You
mean Calvin Klein here?
What s that supposed to mean? said his partner.
If you don t know, you got no business being a detective. He gave Jack a
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