I haven't met the sarcasm that can stop me, so I push on. “What do you know about Victor Markham?”
“He's a rich scumbag.” He reflects for a moment. “That might be redundant.”
As a rich person, I'm offended, but I don't show it. “What did Markham have to do with the Miller case?”
“You want me to tell you what you already know? The victim was his son's girlfriend. They were out together when it happened.”
“Were you aware of any special connection between Victor Markham and my father?”
Pete shows me a flash of anger. “Your father did not have special connections. Except to the truth.”
“Don't you think I know that?”
He nods. “Yeah, of course you do. Sorry.”
I wait for him to continue, to tell me what he knows. I don't have to wait long.
“Markham's son, Edward, was a loose cannon,” he says. “I had the feeling that Victor was pulling his strings, like he was worried what the kid might say or do on his own. No big deal, just a feeling I had.”
I take this very seriously. Pete is an outstanding cop; there are a lot of people making license plates and saying “Pass the soap, Bubba” in the shower because of feelings Pete has had.
“Where's Edward now?” I ask.
“He works for his daddy. Big job.”
I nod. “He must interview really well.”
I thank Pete and leave, stopping off at the newsstand on the way back to the office. I tell Cal that Wanda is to be in court three days from now, and if she behaves everything will be fine. For now. Cal is so grateful I think he's going to cry or, even worse, hug me. But since deep emotion is not really a part of our relationship, I'm glad when he doesn't.
I get to the office early, and Laurie hasn't yet arrived. I get a message from Richard Wallace, a Deputy District Attorney. Wallace is the best lawyer the department has to offer; if he is the one handling the Miller trial, an impossible job just got tougher.
Wallace is friendly when I call him; he and I have established a good working relationship over the years. Of course, he can afford to be nice; he's beaten me two of the three trials in which we've gone against each other. And I don't get the feeling he's too worried about this one.
The other factor that leads to us having a good rapport is that he used to work for my father, who was the District Attorney and head of the department. My father was a mentor to Wallace, and they shared a mutual respect. Some of that has transferred to me.
Basically the call is to discuss discovery, that process during which both sides turn over their evidence in advance, so that the other side is not ambushed and has time to prepare. It's not as big a deal in this case for two reasons. We already have everything that came out at the first trial, so there's not much for them to give us. And we've got nothing whatsoever to give them.
Richard informs me that additional DNA tests are being taken from the skin under Denise's fingernails, so as to more closely link Willie to the crime than the technology at the time of the murder was able to accomplish. Our response will be to attack the evidence as unreliable and incompetently gathered, but the problem is it isn't and it wasn't. I make a note to think about getting our own expert to refute what they are going to say.
“When will you have the results?” I ask.
“Just in time for opening statements.”
“Why is Hatchet rushing this?”
I can hear him shrug over the phone. “You know Hatchet. He's not a big fan of technicality appeals. This is probably his way of showing it. I asked for more time myself; it's screwing up my vacation.”
Near the end of the conversation, Richard brings up the possibility of discussing a plea bargain. He does this with a minimum of subtlety.
“You want to talk about a plea bargain?”
“Sure. We'll take a dismissal and an apology from the state. Something humble, but not cloying.”
He laughs the laugh of the gracious winner. We agree to talk at his office tomorrow, though I can't imagine it going anywhere. There will be too much public pressure on Richard to right the wrong that the technicality appeal represents. Besides, Willie has said he absolutely won't cop to anything he didn't do, or as is the