Deeper Water (44 page)

"All right, I'll accept your plea and sentence you to time served of eighty-two days, plus one year supervised probation. The defendant is released on his own recognizance. Mr. Jones, your attorneys can assist you in setting up the initial schedule with your probation officer. After that, make sure the officer knows how to get in touch with you and keep all scheduled appointments. I don't want to see you in court again. Anything else?"

"Yes'm. My boat."

Judge Howell smiled. "Of course. Your boat is released from impoundment without payment of any storage fees. Remove it from the lot within seven days."

Judge Howell rose and left the room. Ms. Smith turned to Zach and me. "I'm glad we could work this out. Trying cases like this gives the public the impression we don't have anything important to do."

"Thanks for your cooperation," Zach said.

Smith shook Zach's hand and smiled sweetly. "I know you don't do criminal work, but I hope to see you around."

The assistant DA left the room. The deputy handed Moses two plastic bags.

"Keep catching those big croakers," he said. "You've been the best worker we've had on trash detail for a long time, but I hope we don't see you again."

"Thank you, boss man," Moses answered.

I took Moses by the arm to guide him out of the courtroom behind the deputy.

"Tami!" Mr. Carpenter called out. "Just a minute."

Moses and I kept moving toward the side door of the courtroom. The senior partner walked over and blocked our way. He faced Moses.

"My name is Joe Carpenter."

"I know who you be," Moses said, staring at the floor.

"And Mr. Jones is leaving now," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll see you when I get back to the office."

Mr. Carpenter didn't budge. "It's not you I want to talk to," he answered. "I have business with Mr. Jones."

I knew there was no use appealing to Zach. I frantically looked to Vince for help. He stepped back and didn't say anything.

"Sit down on that bench," Mr. Carpenter commanded Moses.

The old man complied. Mr. Carpenter turned to me. "Ms. Taylor, your business here is finished. Go back to the office. I'll meet with you later this afternoon before you leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," I responded, planting my feet as if guarding a basketball goal.

Mr. Carpenter's head jerked back. "What did you say?"

"I'm staying here with my client," I said more bravely than I felt.

Mr. Carpenter's eyes narrowed. "What I have to discuss with Mr. Jones has nothing to do with you."

I nodded my head toward Moses. "That's for him to decide. Moses, do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes, missy."

I looked Mr. Carpenter in the eyes. "And that's what I'm going to do."

"I'm going to ask this man some-"

"Mr. Jones doesn't have to talk to you or answer any questions," I interrupted.

Mr. Carpenter turned toward Zach and Vince. "Go!"

The two young men stared at each other for a second.

"I want them to stay," I said.

"Why?" Mr. Carpenter asked, his face getting red. "They have no more business here."

"So they can witness what you're about to do."

"What I'm about to do is fire you and tell you to get out of my sight," Mr. Carpenter exploded. "Now move aside!"

Zach and Vince stepped back at the sound of Mr. Carpenter's voice. I held my ground. The river had been crossed. All that mattered was protecting Moses.

"Do whatever you want to do about my job, but I'm not going to abandon my client."

Mr. Carpenter turned to Moses. "Mr. Jones, has Ms. Taylor told you she's a lawyer?"

"No sir, she always be saying she's not a real lawyer, but she sure enough got the grit to be one."

"I'd say she has grit where she should have brains," Mr. Carpenter replied sarcastically.

"You can insult me, Mr. Carpenter," I replied, my own eyes flashing. "And you can fire me. But Judge Cannon signed an order authorizing me to represent Mr. Jones, and that's what I intend to do."

Mr. Carpenter glared hard at me for several seconds until a sneer turned up the corners of his mouth. "Ms. Taylor, I want to be totally clear about this situation. Are you refusing to let Mr. Jones talk to me unless you are present?"

"Yes sir. And I'm telling him that he doesn't have to talk to you at all if he doesn't want to." I looked down at Moses. "In fact, I'm advising him not to answer any questions or provide information about recent or past events now or at any time in the future."

"That's quite comprehensive," Mr. Carpenter replied.

"Yes sir. That's what I intend."

Mr. Carpenter nodded his head. "Very well, I have a few things to say to you."

I stood up straight. I had no intention of slouching in the face of the firing squad.

"First, Oscar Callahan told me you were a young woman of exceptional conviction and personal courage. Nice sentiments, but I had no idea how firmly rooted those qualities are in your character. Fearlessness in the face of intense pressure can't be taught; it is forged in the trials of life. Second, I never dreamed that a summer clerk would take representation of a client so seriously that she would risk losing a job and damaging her entire career to maintain zealous though misplaced advocacy. I have no doubt that you will someday be an outstanding lawyer. Third, you have earned the right to know why I want to talk to Mr. Jones."

"It doesn't matter what you say-" I began, aware I was being manipulated.

"Tami! Let him finish," Zach interrupted.

"And I don't mind Zach and Vince staying if those are the terms you set for me. Why don't we all sit down?"

Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Carpenter pulled up a chair and sat across from Moses. My mind reeling, I sat on the bench beside Moses. Mr. Carpenter gestured with his hand, and Zach and Vince sat down. The older lawyer looked at Moses.

"Mr. Jones, I'm going to tell you some things, but I don't want you to say anything to me without Ms. Taylor's permission." He looked at me. "Is that agreeable?"

Mr. Carpenter was a cagey man seeking a way to gain control of the situation through flattery and deceit.

"No sir. Talk to me first."

Mr. Carpenter's jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. "Very well. My father was a businessman here in Savannah. People described him as `colorful,' which is a euphemism for a criminal who has enough money to buy his way into respectability."

The senior partner's candor shocked me.

"Many years ago while I was in college, his niece, a little girl named Lisa Prescott, disappeared and was never found. Our family always suspected foul play, but the police never found her body or identified a suspect. Through some of his criminal connections, my father heard a rumor that Mr. Jones knew something about Lisa's disappearance. According to information in a file kept by my father, Mr. Jones was questioned at least once but denied knowing anything. Now you know why I took such an interest in this case. Moses Jones isn't a name easily forgotten, and when Sam Braddock and I pulled out the old records, we realized the connection. We didn't even know if Mr. Jones was still alive." He looked directly at Moses. "We're all getting older, and once and for all, I want to know the truth."

Moses turned to me. "What you be thinking, missy?"

Mr. Carpenter's matter-of-fact recitation of the facts threw me completely off guard. His approach bore none of the threatened pressure.

"What are you going to do if Moses doesn't want to talk to you?" I asked, stalling for time.

"Keep working on what my father started. That's more important than anything he could tell me."

"What do you mean?"

"Not only did we lose Lisa; her parents died a year later in an automobile accident. The double tragedy was the catalyst for change in my father's life. He stopped being `colorful' and moved into legitimate business activities in which he made a lot more money than he ever did on the shady side of the law. Lawrence Braddock helped him go straight. Together, they set up the Lisa Prescott Foundation."

"Foundation?" I asked in a subdued voice.

"Yes. Lisa's mother, Ellen, was my father's baby sister. Her husband didn't have any surviving family, and everything passed to my father under their wills. He didn't touch a penny of the money, but established a charitable foundation that has given away millions to children's causes in Georgia and South Carolina. Sam Braddock and I have served on the board of the foundation for more than thirty years."

"Why didn't you tell me anything about this?"

Mr. Carpenter raised his eyebrows. "Why should I? You were representing Mr. Jones in a trespassing case."

"But why did you want to talk to Mr. Jones alone?"

"I wanted to push him hard for the truth." Mr. Carpenter rubbed his hands together. "However, that won't happen since his attorney has demonstrated a tenacious ability to frustrate my efforts at communication."

"Do you believe Mr. Jones was responsible for Lisa's disappearance?"

"I don't know; the notes in the file mention a rumor that Mr. Jones found her body. The rest is a mystery I'd like to solve. Will you allow me to question him?"

I looked at Zach and Vince. Neither one spoke. I turned to Mr. Carpenter. "Only if it is considered an ongoing part of the attorney/ client relationship between Mr. Jones and Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter."

Mr. Carpenter hesitated. "So that I will be bound by the attorney/ client privilege and couldn't disclose the information obtained to the police. That's finesse."

"Agreed?" I asked, ignoring the compliment.

Mr. Carpenter nodded. "Yes."

"And I'll ask the questions first," I continued. "It will go a lot smoother that way; then you can follow up."

"But you don't know what to ask," the older lawyer protested.

"Just listen. You can evaluate my effort."

FOR THE NEXT THIRTY MINUTES, I guided Moses through his story. When he described Lisa's injuries after he discovered her on the riverbank, I glanced at Mr. Carpenter, whose eyes were red and moist. The lawyer wiped away tears when Moses told about the simple burial in a watery grave. For the first time since Mr. Carpenter blocked our exit from the courtroom, I allowed myself to relax. The tension flowed out of my shoulders.

Moses concluded with the two times Floyd Carpenter tried to talk to him, and the reason he kept his mouth shut. Mr. Carpenter pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes for at least the third time.

"I'm sorry," Moses said. "But I be too scared to say nothing to your daddy."

"I understand," Mr. Carpenter replied.

I spoke. "Is there anything else you remember about what happened to Lisa?"

"No, missy. That be it."

"Mr. Carpenter, do you have any questions?"

The lawyer bowed his head for a moment. "Do you know the place where you laid her in the water?"

"Yes sir."

"I know she's not there, but could you show it to me sometime?"

"Yes, boss man."

"And did you ever hear any rumors or stories of why she was left on the riverbank or how she got there that evening?"

Moses pressed his lips together. I held my breath.

"I be thinking something myself That little girl been hit in the head a lot worse than if she'd been in a bare-knuckle fight. Something hard done that. And there be small pieces of glass caught up in her dress. I saved a few of them in a tin can for a long time, but they be lost now."

"A hit-and-run driver," Mr. Carpenter said, turning to me. "Who didn't leave her lying in the road or call an ambulance, but thought she was dead and dumped her off in a secluded place. The police found blood on a curb along the route Lisa would have taken home from a music lesson on the day she disappeared. The first test was inconclusive, but the second came back as a blood-type match. Of course, there wasn't DNA testing back then, and the blood type was one of the more common ones."

"Why wouldn't someone who hit her call for help?" I asked.

"The driver could have been drinking, on drugs, driving a stolen vehicle, or simply panicked. We'll probably never know. People don't always think things through in the heat of the moment."

I could certainly identify with that type of mistake.

Mr. Carpenter continued. "Every car taken in for repair to the front grille or bumper during the next few months after Lisa disappeared was inspected by police, but nothing turned up. If it was a hit-and-run driver, he laid low long enough to avoid being identified. My father hired a private detective firm that continued seeking clues after the police shut down the active file. Nothing turned up."

Mr. Carpenter stood and extended his hand to Moses. They shook hands. I watched in disbelief.

"Mr. Jones, thank you for trying to help Lisa," Mr. Carpenter said. "Knowing someone tried to save her means so much to me." He choked up again. "And hearing your story gives me hope that she may not have suffered as much as, or in ways, we'd always feared."

"No sir, she never woke up until she passed."

Mr. Carpenter nodded. "How can I get in touch with you about going to her burial place on the river?"

"Through Bill Fussleman," Zach offered. "He's the homeowner who is going to let Mr. Jones tie up his boat for the night at his dock. Fussleman's address and phone number are in the file."

"That be fine, boss man," Moses said. "I be looking out for you."

"Can I take you someplace?" Mr. Carpenter asked Moses. "I'll drop you off anywhere you like."

"No sir. I be walking. It gonna feel good breathing free air and stretching out my own two legs."

"And you?" Mr. Carpenter asked me. "Are you going back to the office? You still have a job."

"Yes, and thanks, but I think I'll walk. Free air sounds good to me too."