But he kept looking at it long enough that I wanted to start squirming in my seat. I might have if I hadn’t heard my mom’s voice in my head. Don’t ever show a client that you’re uncomfortable.
He set the picture down and brought his other hand back up, but his leg stayed still. He didn’t push the photo back to me the way I expected he would. “I don’t know him.”
His look made me feel like I was being sized up, as if I were a child in the principal’s office, called in to defend against a charge of cheating.
I kept my mouth shut. Defending against an unspoken accusation would only make me seem guiltier of whatever he thought I’d done.
He laid a hand over top of the picture as if he were tired of looking at it. “I’ve been sitting here trying to think of all the possible reasons you would show me a picture of a man I don’t know. Because if I don’t know him, he shouldn’t have had access to my medications or a reason to hurt me.”
The sleep-deprived Clement had been easier to manage. The well-rested Clement showed me the man who must have been a sharp professor and history scholar in the past. This conversation had taken a turn to a direction I’d hoped to avoid.
He was going to want to talk about who this man was and why I was asking about him. All the factors I’d calculated meant nothing because I’d failed to take into account how much sharper Clement would be now. In his career, he’d had to take small pieces of evidence—the things artifacts told him—and come to conclusions about whole societies and eras of history. It wasn’t that much different from what I did in a way. We used a similar interpretive skill set.
He flexed and relaxed his hand over the photo. “So the one reason I can come up with is that you think Darlene is having an affair with this man and she swapped out my medication to kill me.”
I couldn’t deny it, and I couldn’t grasp on to another idea that might distract him. My ruse was up. At this point, I was probably better admitting it. Then I could minimize the damage and hopefully keep Clement calm and focused. To build a solid defense for him, I needed his cooperation.
I straightened into my most professional posture. “Yes, that’s what I suspect.”
“Did Darlene admit to having an affair?”
“I haven’t asked her yet.”
The lines in his forehead deepened until they were almost as thick as his glasses’ rims. “Do you have pictures of her in a compromising position with this man?”
I shook my head.
“Then you don’t know anything.” He pushed the photo back to me, slow and deliberate. “You made a guess, and you guessed wrong.”
In the five stages of grief described by Elisabeth Kubler Ross, denial was a natural first step. “I found a pill bottle in your house and—”
He held up his hand, reminding me eerily of the way one of my law professors used to stop students when they were in the middle of a wrong answer, like he didn’t have time for listening to foolish mistakes.
“I doubted Darlene once, when we were in high school. I saw her laughing with another guy on the football team and thought it was something more than it was. Instead of asking her, I acted impulsively and in anger. It hurt people.” He pushed his glasses up more securely on his face. They looked even smaller next to his meaty fingers. “That’s not something I’m willing to do again until I hear it from Darlene or you give me better evidence than a picture of a random man. That means I won’t agree to you putting her on the stand and trying to make her look guilty in front of everyone, either.”
Our whole defense at this point was built around his illness. Without proof of a motive, I couldn’t prove that Clement’s medications had been swapped. Without proof they’d been swapped, any competent prosecutor would argue he’d been faking his condition. As soon as that happened, any chance of an acquittal evaporated, and given the violent nature of the crime, Clement would go to prison for the rest of his life.
All to protect a woman who looked like she’d cheated on him and tried to kill him.
My dad liked to say that some clients lost their own cases. I hadn’t really understood what he meant until this moment. If Clement wasn’t such a large man, I would have been tempted to try to shake some sense into him.
I tucked my hair behind my ears. It was a self-soothing move, and I knew it, but hopefully Clement wouldn’t pick up on it. It helped me stay calm.
I had to make sure he understood the potential consequences without putting us even further at odds. He didn’t have to keep me as his lawyer. He could fire me.
And for reasons beyond wanting to see justice done, that thought twisted me up inside the same way I felt when I thought I might be audited for my taxes. I didn’t want to lose this case. This was my case to prove I could do this job. Losing because my client gave up felt like a bigger failure than losing because the prosecution out-argued me.
“I can’t win your case if we can’t point to who tried to kill you by switching out your meds,” I said softly.
I made sure not to say if we can’t point the finger at Darlene and she’s guilty, even though I wanted to. There was a chance I wouldn’t be able to find concrete enough evidence to convince Clement. He’d be more difficult to convince than a jury would. He needed more than reasonable doubt. He needed certainty.
“You can point to that person,” Clement said. “You just can’t point to Darlene.”
In a strange way, his loyalty reminded me of Mark. Even when Mark thought I was interested in someone else and didn’t want to be around him, he’d still made sure I was safe because he cared about me.
Clement pushed his glasses down again and rubbed the spot on his nose where they normally sat. “You’re not married yet, so maybe you can’t understand this, but you have to believe in the person you’re spending your life with. You have to see their best qualities when no one else does, and you have to defend them when anyone tries to tear them down.”
He was right. I’d seen too many couples who cheated and lied. I’d been lied to myself in the relationship I’d had prior to Mark. Trust was something I was still learning, and loyalty was a quality I wanted people to think of when they thought of me. If Mark were ever accused of something horrible, I hoped I’d stand by him and defend his innocence even if no one else did.
Clement left me with only one choice—I had to prove beyond more than a reasonable doubt that Darlene had motive and had acted on it. Because now, I couldn’t stand to accuse her either until I was completely sure.
23
I didn’t have access to Darlene’s medical records and prescription history or the ones belonging to her mystery man, but I might be able to subpoena a list of their prescriptions if I could identify what was in Clement’s pill bottle. If either of them had a prescription that matched what Clement was being given, it should be proof enough even for Clement.
I broke the speed limit driving back to Fair Haven. Dr. Horton’s Pharmacy closed at 7:00 pm. If I had any hope of getting the records in time for Clement’s arraignment, I had to see Saul tonight.
The pharmacy door didn’t open when I tugged on it. I checked my watch. Five minutes to 7:00 pm. Saul must have started to close up early, but if he knew I was out here, surely he’d unlock the door and let me in.
I banged my fist against the glass and prayed that Saul was the one in today. It was my first time coming to the pharmacy since the day he was at his brother-in-law’s funeral. If Saul wasn’t the one in, the other pharmacist might make me come back tomorrow or tell me to hire a lab.
Telling me what pills were in the bottle was outside of their scope of practice, so I was basically asking a favor to figure out what these pills were more quickly than I could get results from a lab. All I needed was enough to get a subpoena before Clement’s court date. Then I would get an official lab report and contact an expert who could testify.
It might be enough to have his case dismissed. At the very least, it would ensure I could enter the results of the lab test and subpoena as evidence.
I wrapped my arms around my body for extra warmth. The streets were dark except for the halos around the street lights. I pounded on the door again.
Saul rolled into view on the other side of the door. I waved frantically and pressed my hands together in the universal sign for please.
