Read Online Client Privilege by William G. Tapply - Free Book Online

not smile. Finnigan, I noticed, rarely smiled, and when he did it was not a pleasant smile. I tried not to take it personally that he didn’t smile at me.
    Sylvestro extracted a notepad from the depths of his topcoat and consulted it for a moment. “Okay, Mr. Coyne,” he said, looking up at me. “Now let’s talk about the night you met with Wayne Churchill at Skeeter’s Infield. You did meet with him there, am I right?”
    “Yes.”
    “And why was it you met with him?”
    “I told you before. I can’t say.”
    “For a client, I believe you told us.”
    I smiled. “I believe I did.”
    “And you don’t want to tell us who this client is.”
    “Right. I don’t. I can’t. You know this.”
    “Was the client Wayne Churchill?” said Finnigan.
    I turned my head and looked at him. He shrugged. “I tried,” he said.
    “Are you protecting this client?” said Sylvestro.
    “Well, sure. That’s what the client-lawyer relationship is all about. That doesn’t mean he’s involved.”
    “Then why…?” began Finnigan.
    Sylvestro turned to him. “Come on,” he said. Finnigan shrugged.
    “Mr. Coyne,” said the older cop, “you can see how this looks, you refusing to answer our questions.”
    “This has nothing to do with self-incrimination.”
    He nodded. “Sure. Incriminating somebody else, then?”
    “If that’s supposed to be a question, you know I can’t answer it.”
    Sylvestro sighed and nodded, as if he expected these answers. “Okay, then. Let’s go over the times again, Mr. Coyne. Now, what time did you arrive at Skeeter’s?”
    “Nine o’clock, give or take a couple minutes.”
    “And Churchill arrived—?”
    “A few minutes after that.”
    “And you had a discussion with him.”
    “Yes.”
    “What did you discuss?”
    “I can’t answer that.”
    “Why?”
    “Come on. I already explained that.”
    “Privileged information,” said Finnigan. He made the words sound vulgar.
    “That’s right,” I said.
    Sylvestro nodded. “Okay. Sure. Did you argue with Churchill?”
    “I’m not going to tell you what we talked about.”
    “A witness said it appeared that you argued.”
    I shrugged.
    “You don’t want to comment on that?”
    “No.”
    “And what time did you leave?”
    “Around nine-thirty.”
    “When did Churchill leave?”
    “Ten or fifteen minutes before me.”
    “Did you observe anybody leave with him?”
    “No. Wait. There were two women at the bar. They left after him, and before me.”
    “Why didn’t you tell us about them before?”
    “I didn’t think of it. It didn’t seem relevant, anyway.”
    “Can you describe these women?”
    “One was blond, one brunette. Both maybe thirty. Good-looking. Well dressed. That’s all I really noticed.”
    “Did you know either of these women?”
    “No. Never saw them before.”
    “Did Churchill appear to know either of them?”
    “He didn’t seem to even notice them.”
    “Okay. Now, what time did you get home?”
    “It must have been around ten. I walked home. I didn’t notice the time. But I did turn on my TV. The Celtics game had ended. I watched the very end of the Bruins. They were in overtime. Whatever time that was.”
    “You told us that you talked to your wife—”
    “My former wife. We’re divorced.”
    “Right. You talked to your wife at eleven. That right?”
    “No. It was about eleven-thirty.”
    “You told us before that it was eleven, Mr. Coyne.”
    “I told you I wasn’t really aware of the time. After the Bruins game I had a shower. Gloria called me while I was in the shower, left a message on my machine. I called her back around eleven-thirty.”
    Sylvestro frowned. “Now, hang on. I’m a little confused here. You got home at ten. Watched a couple minutes of the Bruins. Had a shower. While you were in the shower, your wife called you, and you didn’t call her back until eleven-thirty?”
    “I didn’t get into the shower the minute the Bruins were over.”
    “Well, what did you