‘What doesn’t?’ said Harry.
‘We’re defense lawyers. Anything that I might do to help a prosecutor just makes me sick to my stomach.’
‘But it helps your client.’
‘Maybe, but it doesn’t feel right. From now on, let’s focus on the case against Sofia. We have to forget about Alexandra.’
‘I thought you wanted the guilty to be punished. Wasn’t that always your way?’
It was part of the system – and it was part of my DNA. The innocent go free, the guilty pay for their crimes. If Sofia was innocent, then Alexandra had to be the killer. I should have been baying for Alexandra’s blood.
But this case was different. It felt different. I believed Sofia didn’t kill her father. When I’d seen Alexandra that night at the station, I couldn’t say she looked like a killer, either.
‘Do you believe Sofia is innocent?’ I asked.
‘It doesn’t matter what I believe. She’s our client. I know it matters to you a lot. It just so happens that I do believe Sofia. I can’t see her doing that to her father.’
‘That means it must’ve been Alexandra,’ I said, but without much conviction. I believed Sofia was innocent. Trouble was I didn’t yet believe Alexandra was the killer. There was evidence pointing to her, but I didn’t yet feel it, in my gut.
Harry leaned forward, said, ‘What about you? Having doubts?’
I shook my head, unsure whether I was trying to convince Harry or myself that there were no doubts in my mind. Clarence got up off the floor, nuzzled in beside Harry and used his snout to flick his hand off his lap and then leapt into the space. Clarence wanted some Harry time.
Harry stroked the dog, gently, and sipped his whiskey.
‘Both sets of prints lifted from the knife match Sofia and Alexandra. Easy enough to explain. They both cooked for their father. Makes sense they both handled the knife. I’m not worried about that too much. Both Alexandra and Sofia were in the house that night, so opportunity is shared but …’
‘But we’re the only defendant with a documented history of mental health issues, drug addiction and violence. Alexandra is a poster child for stability and success. The murder looks like it was carried out by a raving lunatic. That’s another big problem,’ said Harry.
‘Should I get a psychiatrist to minimize the damage?’
‘You’d be wasting your time. I say we don’t make a big deal out of her mental health. It doesn’t prove anything, I suppose. The more we draw attention to it, the more it looks like there really is a problem.’
Harry had a good point.
Harper opened the office door and came inside. She ignored Harry and me and bent down to Clarence who leapt from Harry’s lap and began rubbing his sides against Harper’s legs. He whimpered and wagged his tail in excitement as Harper cooed and talked to him, telling him he was a good boy.
‘Hey, defense attorneys are people too, you know?’ I said.
‘You’re kidding. Not even you believe that,’ said Harper.
‘Is Sofia ready for tomorrow?’ I asked.
She stood and said, ‘She’s gonna take the polygraph. She’s calm, I’ve taught her stress management techniques I learned in the Bureau.’
‘You think she’ll hold up?’ I asked.
‘Polygraphs are all about managing stress so as not to give false positives. Some people who are naturally jittery can skew results – the data can’t really determine between someone who is a nervous wreck and a liar. We’ll see. She’s as ready as she’ll ever be. Big day tomorrow. I just got a call from the precinct. They’re going to allow us into the Avellino house tomorrow night to look over the scene.’
‘Great,’ said Harry.
‘It’s a joint inspection. Lawyers and staff only. No discussing the case at the house – the DA is video-recording the whole thing.’
‘He’s being very careful,’ I said.
‘Wouldn’t you be? This is a monster case. Last thing he needs is one of the defendants interfering with the scene, or worse – planting something to implicate the other. The co-defendant’s counsel gets to see our inspection video, and vice versa. At least we can see what they’re focusing on. Might give us a heads up.’
‘Kate Brooks is probably thinking the same thing,’ I said.
‘Ah, I’ve already thought of that,’ said Harper. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder. She removed it and handed Harry a large camera with a lens attached.
‘If there’s something we need to look at without the DA noticing, then we split up. Harry can use the camera, we use our phones. The cameraman can’t follow three of us,’ she said.
‘I love you, Harper,’ I said, and instantly regretted it.
It was meant as something flippant. A way to tell her I thought she was the smartest of all of us in this room. It came out wrong. It came out like it meant something else.
‘I meant, I-I …’
‘Who is the hair-fiber expert?’ said Harper, ignoring my embarrassment.
‘Professor Shandler,’ said Harry.
Shaking her head, Harper said, ‘Shit. He’s legit. No adverse findings that I know of, but I’ll check again.’
Hair-fiber analysis has been the subject of some criticism in appellate courts and there were several hair-fiber analysts who had been responsible for wrongful convictions. As their reputations went down the toilet, all of the cases they worked on went under scrutiny. We had been hoping the DA’s expert would be one of those tarnished few. Harper had done her homework – she knew every hair-fiber expert on the East Coast who had a bad reputation. Shandler wasn’t one of them.
Harper took her laptop from her bag, sat on the couch beside Harry.
‘He’s got a website,’ she said. ‘Lot of articles on his work. He’s got a great rep. One of the top-ranked forensic fiber experts in the country. He’s helped design a forensic lab for spectrometer analysis in Quantico. He built the Bureau’s lab, basically. We’re not going to get any dirt on this guy – he’s the real deal.’
I finished my coffee, but instead of reaching for the pot for a refill, I picked up the bottle of Scotch. Unscrewed the cap. Began to angle the bottle to pour some into my cup. The liquid came to the neck of the bottle and I stopped. Alcohol rehab seemed a long time ago. I could drink in moderation now, but there was always the possibility that I might start to pour a glass of Scotch and never stop. I got up. Refilled Harry’s glass with a smile on my face and then put the bottle back on my desk.
‘The basis of any good con is a single principle – everyone wants to make a free buck. Greed and green. If Shandler is clean, looks like we’ll have to dirty him up a little.’
‘How?’ said Harry.
‘We’ll get him to do what he does best.’
She looked up at me, momentarily confused.
‘I’m not going to be involved in something illegal, if that’s what you have in mind.’
‘Don’t worry.’
She looked concerned, her head went down, and her hair fell over her eyes. I didn’t want anything to trouble her. Without thinking, my hand reached out and my fingers gently smoothed her hair away from her face.