“For what it’s worth, as far as I’m concerned, tonight never happened
and everything you’ve said stays with me, no exceptions. Not even on the
witness stand. I mean it.”
“Thanks, Seth.”
Seth Frank walked slowly back to his car as the Lexus pulled down the
street, turned the corner and was gone.
He understood exactly the kind of guy Luther Whitney was. So what the
hell could scare that kind of a guy so badly?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT WAS SEVEN-THIRTY IN THE MORNING WHEN JACK PULLED into the parking lot
of the Middleton police station. The morning had broken clear but
bitterly cold. Amid a number of snow-covered police cars was a black
sedan with a cold hood that told him Seth Frank was an early riser.
Luther looked different today; the orange prison clothes had been
replaced with a brown two-piece suit, and his striped tie was
conservative and professional. He could be an insurance salesman or a
senior partner in a law firm, with his thick gray hair neatly trimmed,
and the remnants of his island tan. Some defense attorneys saved the
nice citizen clothes for the actual trial where the jury could see that
the accused wasn’t such a bad guy, just misunderstood. But Jack was
going to insist on the suit throughout. It wasn’t merely game playing;
it was Jack’s firm conviction that Luther didn’t deserve to be paraded
around in neon orange. He might be a criminal, but he wasn’t the kind of
criminal where if you got too close you might get a shiv in your ribs or
find a set of criminally insane teeth on your throat. Those guys
deserved to wear the orange donly to make sure you always knew where
they were in proximity to everyone else.
Jack didn’t bother to open his briefcase this time. The routine was
familiar. The charges against Luther would be read to him. The judge
would ask Luther if he understood the charges and then Jack would enter
the plea. Then the judge would take them through the dog-and-pony show
to determine if Luther understood what a plea of not guilty entailed,”
and whether Luther was satisfied with his legal representation. The only
problem was Jack had a nagging feeling that .Luther might tell him to go
to hell right in front of the judge and plead himself guilty. That was
not unprecedented. And who knew? The damn judge might just accept it.
But the judge would most likely follow the book closely, since, in a
capital murder case, any screw-up along the way could be grounds for
appeal. And death penalty appeals tended to last forever anyway. Jack
would just have to take his chances.
With any luck the entire proceeding would take all of five minutes. Then
a trial date would be set and the real fun would begin.
Since the commonwealth had gotten an indictment against him, Luther
wasn’t entitled to a preliminary hearing. Not that having one would have
done Jack any good, but he would’ve gotten a quick look at the
commonwealth’s case and a crack at some of their witnesses on cross
although the circuit court judges were usually diligent in not letting
defense counsel use the prelim as a fishing expedition.
He also could have waived the arraignment, but Jack’s thinking was to
let them work for everything. And he -wanted Luther in open court, for
all to see, and he wanted that not guilty plea heard loud and clear. And
then he was going to hit Gorelick with a change of venue motion and get
this case the hell out of Middleton County. With any luck Gorelick would
get bumped for a new ACA and Mr. Future Attorney General could stew on
that disappointment for a few decades. Then Jack was going to make
Luther talk. Kate would be protected. Luther would spill his story and
then the deal of the century would be cut.
Jack looked at Luther. “You look good.”
Luther’s mouth curled up more in a smirk than a smile.
“Kate would like to see you before the arraignment.”
The response shot out of Luther’s mouth. “No!”
“Why not? My God, Luther, you’ve wanted a relationship with her forever