Read Online Hostile Witness by William Lashner - Free Book Online
Authors: William Lashner
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government so desperately wants us to have.”
“I haven’t looked at everything yet,” I said, glancing at Chuckie Lamb for a moment. “But it shouldn’t take me too long to get up to speed.”
There were smiles from all the bright young successes and I smiled back. I was an actor playing the part of a competent and experienced lawyer and doing quite well, I thought. And if they all didn’t believe in what I was presenting they were acting quite well themselves, all except for Chuckie.
“Terrific,” said Prescott. “But maybe, before we proceed any further, Victor should spend a few minutes alone with Chester.” He raised his eyebrows at me, giving me my cue.
“I guess we should see if you really want to hire me,” I said to Concannon with my most ingratiating smile. Chuckie Lamb laughed in my face.
Concannon and I were escorted to an open office. On my way there, without letting anyone notice, I checked my tie. Chuckie had not been lying, a glob of tuna had crusted on the edge. I rubbed it off, leaving a dark oily patch, streaked larger by my thumb.
I closed the door behind us and gestured for Concannon to sit in one of the chairs arrayed expectantly before some Talbott partner’s desk. I sat on the tabletop. Behind the desk was a collection of swords and sabers and battle-axes, the metal edges gleaming. Another litigator’s office.
“Mr. Concannon,” I started, “I thought we should talk a bit before you agreed to hire me or I agreed to represent you.”
“That’s fine, Mr. Carl.”
“Call me Victor,” I said.
“Victor or Vic?”
“Victor. I never liked Vic. It makes me sound too disposable, like a throwaway lighter or a ballpoint pen.”
He laughed at my old joke, which was good. He seemed a charming enough man, Chet Concannon, quiet and verypolite. I told him I was sorry about what happened to Pete McCrae. I told him a little about myself, my experience, the highlights of my career, just a little about myself because there was only a little to tell. Then it was time for the defense attorney’s lecture, so I paused, took a breath, and began. I gave him the talk about lawyer-client confidentiality, about how my job was not to find the truth but to defend him, and how if I learned the truth I was duty-bound to stop him from saying anything other than the truth on the stand.
“You mean stop me from lying,” he said, obviously amused.
“I know you might want to confess, the urge is understandable,” I said. “And whatever you say remains with me, but you have to be aware that any such confession could have consequences as to our defense.”
There was more to it than that, of course. I could have gone on speaking for a good ten minutes, but after talking about his undoubted need to confess and seeing him sitting there, calm, composed, his face lacking the slightest indicia of an urgency to tell me anything, I stopped.
“I guess you’ve heard all this before,” I said.
“I guess,” he replied.
“Good,” I said, though I started to sweat a little. There was something about his composure that was unnerving. “Now just a few questions. Have you ever been arrested before?”
“Yes,” he said without a wince. “Before I met Jimmy I was involved with drugs and drug sellers. I was arrested often.”
“Were you convicted of anything?”
“Once of possession with intent to distribute a banned substance, to wit, cocaine, and twice of forgery. I supported my habit by check,” he said with a smile. “Except the checks weren’t always mine. None of this is a secret. I’m one of Jimmy’s success stories, one of his saved souls.He likes to be able to point at us to show what is possible with drug rehabilitation.”
“Still, you probably won’t be testifying,” I said. “Forgery is just the kind of prior conviction that a prosecutor would use to show your lack of honesty or trustworthiness.”
“That’s what Mr. McCrae said too.”
“Did you know Zack
“I haven’t looked at everything yet,” I said, glancing at Chuckie Lamb for a moment. “But it shouldn’t take me too long to get up to speed.”
There were smiles from all the bright young successes and I smiled back. I was an actor playing the part of a competent and experienced lawyer and doing quite well, I thought. And if they all didn’t believe in what I was presenting they were acting quite well themselves, all except for Chuckie.
“Terrific,” said Prescott. “But maybe, before we proceed any further, Victor should spend a few minutes alone with Chester.” He raised his eyebrows at me, giving me my cue.
“I guess we should see if you really want to hire me,” I said to Concannon with my most ingratiating smile. Chuckie Lamb laughed in my face.
Concannon and I were escorted to an open office. On my way there, without letting anyone notice, I checked my tie. Chuckie had not been lying, a glob of tuna had crusted on the edge. I rubbed it off, leaving a dark oily patch, streaked larger by my thumb.
I closed the door behind us and gestured for Concannon to sit in one of the chairs arrayed expectantly before some Talbott partner’s desk. I sat on the tabletop. Behind the desk was a collection of swords and sabers and battle-axes, the metal edges gleaming. Another litigator’s office.
“Mr. Concannon,” I started, “I thought we should talk a bit before you agreed to hire me or I agreed to represent you.”
“That’s fine, Mr. Carl.”
“Call me Victor,” I said.
“Victor or Vic?”
“Victor. I never liked Vic. It makes me sound too disposable, like a throwaway lighter or a ballpoint pen.”
He laughed at my old joke, which was good. He seemed a charming enough man, Chet Concannon, quiet and verypolite. I told him I was sorry about what happened to Pete McCrae. I told him a little about myself, my experience, the highlights of my career, just a little about myself because there was only a little to tell. Then it was time for the defense attorney’s lecture, so I paused, took a breath, and began. I gave him the talk about lawyer-client confidentiality, about how my job was not to find the truth but to defend him, and how if I learned the truth I was duty-bound to stop him from saying anything other than the truth on the stand.
“You mean stop me from lying,” he said, obviously amused.
“I know you might want to confess, the urge is understandable,” I said. “And whatever you say remains with me, but you have to be aware that any such confession could have consequences as to our defense.”
There was more to it than that, of course. I could have gone on speaking for a good ten minutes, but after talking about his undoubted need to confess and seeing him sitting there, calm, composed, his face lacking the slightest indicia of an urgency to tell me anything, I stopped.
“I guess you’ve heard all this before,” I said.
“I guess,” he replied.
“Good,” I said, though I started to sweat a little. There was something about his composure that was unnerving. “Now just a few questions. Have you ever been arrested before?”
“Yes,” he said without a wince. “Before I met Jimmy I was involved with drugs and drug sellers. I was arrested often.”
“Were you convicted of anything?”
“Once of possession with intent to distribute a banned substance, to wit, cocaine, and twice of forgery. I supported my habit by check,” he said with a smile. “Except the checks weren’t always mine. None of this is a secret. I’m one of Jimmy’s success stories, one of his saved souls.He likes to be able to point at us to show what is possible with drug rehabilitation.”
“Still, you probably won’t be testifying,” I said. “Forgery is just the kind of prior conviction that a prosecutor would use to show your lack of honesty or trustworthiness.”
“That’s what Mr. McCrae said too.”
“Did you know Zack
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