Read Online When Men Betray by Webb Hubbell - Free Book Online

police,” I said quickly. “I’d have insisted you tell them if your lawyer hadn’t. It’s much better than for them to find you in Woody’s phone log. The police would have questioned you as though you had something to hide. Don’t give it another minute’s worry.”
    She nodded and seemed to relax a little. We exchanged pleasantries, agreeing to call each other Brenda and Jack. I promised to give her regards to Woody when I saw him this afternoon. She excused herself, leaving me to my thoughts. I admit, my first thoughts were to admire her backside as she walked away. I hadn’t really noticed a woman in that way since Angie had died.
Why now, and why here?
    But the real questions were, why had Woody left me a note about betrayal, and why had he asked Brenda to reserve a hotel room for me? From the video of the murder, it appeared to me that Woody had wanted to shoot himself after he’d shot Russell. He’d known that no matter how much I didn’t want to, I’d come home to be with Helen if he died. But reserving a hotel room was strange behavior. Worse, it was an act of premeditation. I signed the ticket, charging it to our room, and went upstairs.
    Beth still wasn’t up, which was probably a good thing. I needed to organize my thoughts. I sat down at the desk in the sitting area. It wastoo early to call people, so I made a list of things I needed to do. First on the list was to find a good criminal lawyer and then, to determine how much money Woody had on hand to defend himself. He never seemed to care about money, clothes, cars, or anything else material, so I doubted he had much. For as long as I had known her, Helen had been a widow living on her husband’s railroad pension, so I doubted that there was anything other than her house she could pledge to pay for Woody’s legal defense. The thought of how quickly she might lose her home was sobering. I was willing to help, but I didn’t want to give Woody’s lawyer a blank check.
    Sometime, through all my tossing and turning last night, I had come up with a solution, to one problem at least. I was concerned about what to do with the note and key Woody had left for me. Right then, I had them both in my briefcase. I couldn’t ask an associate in my firm to do any research, but I could hire my own counsel.
    When I had been at the Justice Department, I worked on occasion with Mitch Purdue, who ultimately became deputy assistant attorney general of the Civil Division. I had run across him recently at a Georgetown Law alum reception. He’d told me he’d retired from the Justice Department and was now a professor of ethics at Georgetown. I still had his card in my briefcase. I looked at my watch. It was still fairly early, but I figured him for an early riser. He answered after the first ring. I explained that I needed to hire him and wanted our conversation to be privileged.
    â€œJack, I know where you are. I’m glad you had the good sense to call someone before you get yourself in real trouble. I’m happy to give you advice, but let’s be clear; I want no part of the sideshow that’s going to be the murder trial of Philip Cole.”
    â€œI have no intention of being part of any sideshow either.”
    I quickly told him about the note and key from Woody, my conversation with Helen about Woody’s state of mind, and Woody reserving a room for me at the hotel. He asked whether I’d ever represented Woody or Helen before and a few other basic questions about my relationship with Woody.
    Then he asked directly, “Are you going to represent him?”
    I assured him I wasn’t … that I would make that clear when I saw Woody later that day and would tell Helen the same thing when thetime was right. He wanted to think the problem over and cautioned me about what I should or shouldn’t say if I were questioned before he got back to me.
    Before I could thank