An Insignificant Case

Chapter Forty-Six

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Charlie walked to the jail buffeted by conflicting emotions. Alexis Chandler was a cold-blooded killer who had wormed her way into his confidence and betrayed his trust. But Alexis was also the avenger of a sister who had been brutally murdered for sport. What Alexis had done was legally wrong, but was it morally wrong?

The one unwavering decision he had reached by the time Alexis was led into the contact visiting room was that he wouldn’t agree to take on her case until he discussed it with Bridget.

Alexis was dressed in an orange jail-issue jumpsuit, but she walked with her back straight, her shoulders back, and a welcoming smile on her face. She still had an athletic figure, but she had dyed her hair black, and the skin that had been as white as ivory was now a rich shade of brown.

“Nice tan,” Charlie said, “but I liked you better as a blonde.”

“I was living in a Mexican beach town, and blondes stood out. This was my disguise.”

“How did they get you?” Charlie asked.

“I made a mistake and trusted the wrong person. My bad. But what’s done is done, and here I am. So, are you going to represent me?”

“I’m not sure. But our conference is protected by the attorney-client privilege even if I decide I’m not going to be your lawyer, so you can speak freely.”

“What are your concerns?” Alexis asked.

“Let’s get the business part out of the way. Murder cases take up a lot of time and are very expensive. We’re talking six, seven figures when you factor in hiring an investigator and retaining expert witnesses. Do you have that kind of money?”

“Actually, I do. My parents were well off, and they died in a car accident. Annie and I inherited.”

Alexis choked up for a moment. She looked down at the metal table that separated her and the lawyer. When she’d regained her composure, she sat up and looked at Charlie. The smile with which she had greeted him had disappeared, and he saw how much suffering her sister’s death still caused her.

“I can cover your fees,” she said.

“Okay. What are you charged with?”

“Killing Gretchen Hall, Yuri Makarov, and Brent Atkins and shooting Leon Golden. They also tacked on a kidnapping charge because I took Detective Blaisedale with me when I escaped. There are a couple of other counts, but those are the biggies.”

“Have you been interviewed by the police?”

“Detective Blaisedale’s partner, Rawls, questioned me. I guess Sally can’t be involved, now that she’s a witness.”

“What did you tell Rawls?”

Alexis smiled. “What do you think I said? The minute he asked me a question, I told him I wanted to talk to a lawyer. He tried to get me to talk anyway, but I told him that he was wasting his breath.”

“That’s good to hear. Even so, this isn’t going to be easy. Given all of the charges, your best bet may end up being plea bargaining to avoid the death penalty on the murder charges.”

“Why would I plead guilty when I’m morally justified in killing Hall and Makarov?”

“Yeah, about that. That works in fiction, but you’ll be tried using the Oregon Revised Statutes. Vigilante justice isn’t recognized in any of them.”

“What about self-defense? That gets you off if you kill someone, doesn’t it?”

Alexis had given Charlie a lot to think about, and his thoughts caromed back and forth in his brain when he left the jail. A million-dollar retainer would be great, and Alexis had given him information about what had happened that might convince a jury to acquit on some of the most serious charges, but he wasn’t convinced that her version of events wasn’t a complete fabrication.

That didn’t bother Charlie. A defense attorney accepted any story his client told him, no matter how outrageous, because he, like the jurors, had to assume his client was as pure as the driven snow until the client admitted guilt. Charlie had actually had a few cases where he was convinced that his client was guilty when the trial started, but had changed his mind when all the evidence was in and the jury had acquitted. Those cases had convinced him that he should never prejudge a client’s guilt.

The problem was Charlie’s mixed emotions about his potential client and his belief that all the people in the sex trafficking scheme deserved the cruelest of punishments.

Bridget staggered into the condo at nine thirty. Charlie asked her how the trial was going and waited until Bridget was through venting before telling her that he’d had a very interesting day that involved a meeting with a potential client who could afford a seven-figure retainer.

“Is this someone I’ve read about in the newspapers?” Bridget asked as she paused between bites of an avocado, bacon, and lettuce sandwich she’d slapped together while she told Charlie about her awful day in court.

“It’s actually someone you know personally.”

Bridget frowned. “I’m too tired to play twenty questions. Stop being mysterious.”

“Elin Crane, a.k.a. Alexis Chandler, is in the county jail charged with murder, kidnapping, assault, and several other crimes, and she wants me to represent her.”

Bridget’s mouth had opened so she could continue to eat, but the hand holding her sandwich froze halfway to her mouth.

“Why in the world would you want to represent a serial killer who lied to you and used you to get to one of your clients?”

“First of all, I hope you agree that every defendant, no matter how awful, deserves representation.”

“Especially if they’re gorgeous and have a body men drool over,” Bridget answered.

Charlie turned beet red. “Please tell me that you’re not jealous.”

“Absolutely not!”

“I did have a crush on Elin Crane, but that went away when I learned that she used me and was a stone-cold killer.”

“Then why are you giving her the time of day?”

Charlie told Bridget what Alexis had said about her defenses.

“That sounds like a load of shit,” Bridget said.

“Maybe, maybe not. And remember why she went on her killing spree. You’ve seen the snuff film. What if that was your sister?”

Bridget remembered Annie Chandler begging for mercy as Anthony Noonan raped and strangled her. She took a deep breath.

“Do you believe that she acted in self-defense when she killed Hall, Makarov, and Atkins and shot Golden?” Bridget asked.

“I don’t have to believe her to defend her. The jurors make that decision after they hear what she has to say and they judge her credibility. So, what do you think? I won’t accept Alexis’s case if you don’t want the firm to represent her.”

Bridget took a bite out of her sandwich and thought as she chewed. Charlie waited, hoping that Bridget would get on board.

“Okay,” Bridget said.