When No One Is Watching (9 page)

CHAPTER 12
D
anny Moran sat in the posh reception area of the law firm of Leo J. Lewis and Associates. It seemed strange. He had visited countless law offices over the years, but never as a client. He felt confused and vulnerable, utterly reliant upon the lawyer he was about to meet to steer him in the right direction.

 

The reception area was quiet, like a library, but it had the look and feel of a modern art museum, with sculptures and paintings from the proprietor’s private collection prominently on display throughout the area. The man-made artwork was complemented perfectly by nature’s own masterpiece: a glorious view of Lake Michigan glistening in the summer sunshine, sailboats gliding leisurely in every direction. Under other circumstances, Danny might have found the tranquil setting to be soothing and relaxing. At the moment, however, the serenity of the surroundings brought neither pleasure nor peace to his troubled heart.

Several hours earlier, Danny had heard the grim news about Terry McGrath’s death. In addition to the guilt and sadness generated by that news, he felt an even more disturbing emotion: stark fear. He knew that the clock had just started ticking with Terry McGrath’s death, and that very soon he would be facing manslaughter charges. It was that concern that brought him to the office of the most famous white-collar criminal defense lawyer in town, Leo J. Lewis.

“Danny! Nice to see you again.” Leo emerged from around the corner and warmly shook his visitor’s hand
.

“Hi, Leo,” Danny replied in a subdued voice. “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

“Don’t mention it, pal. I was only too happy to make time for one of the city’s preeminent lawyers. Let’s step into my office, shall we?”

Danny Moran and Leo Lewis knew each other by reputation and had met and exchanged pleasantries at various bar association functions and charitable events. Although they belonged to the same profession and both were well known and highly regarded in legal circles, they operated in entirely different universes. Danny represented big business and was immersed in the local political scene. Leo was a criminal defense attorney. He represented the rich and powerful when they got crosswise with the law. Although Danny had referred several wayward clients to Leo over the years, there had never been any other form of professional interaction between them.

Leo led Danny into an enormous corner office that seemed extravagant even to someone like Danny, who was accustomed to dealing with a prominent, well-heeled clientele. Two sides of the office consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the vast expanse of Lake Michigan to the east and the urban sprawl stretching northward along the lakefront as far as the eye could see
.
The other walls appeared to be a shrine to the great Leo J. Lewis. Danny walked slowly across the office, hands in his pockets, taking in the countless photographs of Leo smiling broadly with celebrities and politicians, and the framed newspaper articles touting Leo’s many notable courtroom victories.

“You got some pretty good press yourself last week, Danny,” said Leo, as Danny’s eyes scanned the headlines shouting from the walls. “I was following the Champions trial pretty closely. You and Blair did a masterful job on that one.”

“Thanks, Leo. Unfortunately, I think I’m about to get some pretty bad press. Criminal charges, too. That’s why I’m here. I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“It would be an honor, Danny. Please, have a seat. Now, tell me what’s going on.”

Leo sat down behind his ornate mahogany desk, and Danny sat opposite him. Leo reminded Danny of a massive bullfrog, with his sagging jowls, thick lips, and enormous, bulging eyes, magnified by thick glasses. He was short and considerably overweight, but looked stylish and meticulously well groomed, from his shiny black shoes to his manicured fingernails to his neatly trimmed black hair, which was slicked straight back. Although three-piece suits were not in vogue, Leo never wore anything else, and the blue pinstripes looked fashionable on him, adorned with gold cuff links and matching tie clip.

Danny took a deep breath and began recounting the events of Saturday evening and early Sunday morning in as much detail as he could recall. He described the visit from Detective Slazak the previous afternoon and shared the news that Terry McGrath had passed away earlier in the day. Leo sat upright in his chair, hands folded, staring intently at Danny as Danny spoke. He took no notes and did not interrupt.

“Anything else?” Leo asked when Danny had finished.

“No, that’s about it. That’s all I remember, anyway.”

Leo rose from his chair and began pacing in front of the window, his eyes focused on his well-polished shoes. “Here’s how I see this, Danny,” he began. “They’ll probably want to arrest you—soon. They’ll throw the book at you. For starters, DUI, reckless driving, and manslaughter. And you’re right about the press. They’ll jump on this fast. I’m surprised they haven’t already.” Leo stopped pacing and stared at Danny. “You better prepare yourself for that, Danny. You can imagine how they’ll spin this: Hero last week, despicable scoundrel this week. It won’t be pretty.” Leo looked down and began pacing again, more quickly now. “So, here’s what we do,” he said decisively. “I’ll put a call in to the State’s Attorney’s Office. We’ll make an appointment for you to turn yourself in quietly. That way, they won’t be able to come to your home or office and make a spectacle out of this. Then they’ll file charges, and there will be an arraignment. A man of your stature will almost certainly be released without bail on your own recognizance.”

“Then what?” asked Danny, looking dejected.

“Then we talk. We see if they want to cut a deal.”

“Is there any reason to think they’d consider a deal?”

“Hell, yes! For starters, they’re scared shitless of me! I kick their ass on a regular basis. They won’t want to look bad.”

That part rang true with Danny. Leo Lewis was brash and bombastic. He was a showman and had a reputation for turning a courtroom into a three-ring circus, but he was the ringmaster of that circus and always in control. He had a keen intellect and was lightning-quick on his feet. His ability to read and manipulate a jury was legendary. He had made many a prosecutor look utterly foolish as they helplessly watched their “sure thing” convictions melt away.

“But what have we got to work with here, Leo?” Danny asked, doubt evident in his voice. “What defense do I possibly have?”

“Look, Danny, we may not have much, but I don’t need a lot. Just give me a tiny crack in a prosecutor’s case and I can turn it into a gaping hole. That’s called reasonable doubt, and that’s all we need.
”

“I understand that, Leo, but where’s the crack in their case? Where’s the reasonable doubt?”

Leo stopped his pacing, turned his back toward Danny, and gazed out over the glassy blue waters of Lake Michigan. “First, they can’t prove you were drunk,” Leo said with an air of confidence. “You didn’t take the breathalyzer and you were smart enough to avoid giving them a blood sample at the hospital. So all they have on that point is the subjective impressions of a couple of police officers. Those guys are stooges,” he said disdainfully. “I’ll rip them apart on the stand!”

“But how do we explain the fact that I was passed out behind the wheel when the cops arrived?”

“Easy. You just finished a two-week trial and you were exhausted. You just fell asleep at the wheel.”

“But how does that help, Leo?” Danny protested. “If I fell asleep at the wheel, I still caused the accident, right?”

“Maybe, maybe not. How do you know? Maybe the other guy was the one driving recklessly. How do we know he wasn’t?” Leo’s voice took on a tone of excitement as he began doing what he did best, conjuring up reasonable doubt. “Think about it, Danny. There could be plenty of explanations other than you got smashed and passed out at the wheel. Like I said, maybe you were exhausted and fell asleep at the wheel. Maybe someone slipped something into your drink. That happens all the time now with that date rape drug. Hell, Danny, for all you know, someone else could have driven you home, caused the wreck, and framed you. It’s possible. You honestly don’t know what happened! There are a whole lot of maybes here, and all those maybes add up to reasonable doubt. That’s my specialty,” he announced boastfully. “Here, have one of these.” Leo took a pencil from a canister on his desk and handed it to Danny. It bore an inscription that read “Leo J. Lewis: Reasonable doubt for a reasonable fee.”

Danny shook his head and smiled weakly. “You know, Leo, that last scenario you mentioned—that someone else was driving—that’s actually what it feels like. I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember getting into my car, and I find it really hard to believe I would have gotten behind the wheel if I were drunk. I just don’t do that. But I’ve got to face reality. The facts seem pretty clear. I
was
behind the wheel. I
was
drunk. No jury will buy these far-fetched scenarios. I don’t practice criminal law, but I know where the jury’s sympathies will lie. A man is dead. His wife is now a widow, and two little kids are without a father. And all the legal presumptions will go against me. How do we possibly overcome all that? Should I even try? Maybe I just need to accept responsibility for what I’ve done, cut the best deal I can, and hope the prosecutor shows at least a little mercy.”

“Don’t be too quick to fall on your sword, Danny,” said Leo, sounding offended at the suggestion that he might lose. “Yes, we should talk to the prosecutor’s office, but let’s not be too quick to surrender. Unless they offer us a fabulous deal, we should be prepared to fight.”

“I don’t know if I have the stomach for a fight, Leo. I’m responsible for what happened. It’s that simple.”

“Goddamn it, Danny, listen to yourself!” Leo snapped. “You sound like you’re giving up already.” Leo bit his lip and struggled to maintain control. He walked slowly toward Danny and leaned against his desk, facing him. “Look at it this way,” Leo began. His voice was calm and earnest now. “You can’t change what happened. You have no control over that now. But you can shape your own future. You can do a lot of good for your family, your friends, and your clients—
if
you stay out of jail and avoid a conviction. If you’re convicted, you’ll probably be disbarred, for Chrissakes, so you really need to avoid a conviction. I assume that’s why you came here, Danny. Am I right?”

Danny nodded hesitantly as he stared at the intricate pattern of the Persian rug beneath his feet.

“Look, Danny, I’m the best at what I do. I’m your best shot. But you’ve got to trust me. You’ve got to let me help you, okay? Don’t forget, you honestly don’t know what happened, so don’t be too quick to presume you do. We’ll have plenty of time to think about this and work on your story.”

“My story? I won’t lie, Leo,” Danny said in a voice that was soft, yet resolute. He glanced up and saw Leo grimace with exasperation. “I won’t commit perjury.”

CHAPTER 13
S
am McIntire and Kimberly Van Howe stood in the hotel lobby visiting with a couple of aldermen who had attended Blair’s speech. Sam abruptly cut the conversation short when he noticed his son-in-law hurrying toward them, looking distressed.

 

“Wipe that look off your face,” Sam growled under his breath as soon as Blair was within earshot. “You’re a candidate now. You need to be smiling and looking happy whenever you’re in public. Shaking hands, kissing babies, all that shit.”

“Sam, that cop …”

Sam shot him an angry look. “We’ll talk in my car.”

They took the elevator to the underground parking garage and made their way to Sam’s shiny black Cadillac. Sam and Blair climbed into the front seat, and Kimberly sat in back. Sam started the ignition, then surveyed the surroundings. The parking garage was deserted. He shifted in his seat, turning his large frame toward Blair.

“Now, you were saying? The cop?”

“What did you tell him, Blair?” Kimberly demanded, her voice sharp. Her father glared at her with a look she knew well—the one that meant
keep quiet and let me handle this.

“I told him I drove to the banquet with Danny Saturday night, but I took a cab home because I had a lot to do the next day, and Danny wasn’t ready to leave when I was.”

“Shit, Blair, why did you tell him you drove together?” Kimberly scolded. “That gives you some real explaining to do. That—”

“Kimberly!” Sam snapped. “Let him talk!”

Blair turned toward the backseat and faced his wife. “Plenty of people saw us drive up together. He’d have no trouble confirming that.”

“So, do you think he bought it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know,” Blair replied, worry in his voice. “He didn’t act suspicious, but he was hard to read. But he knows a lot, Sam. And he won’t let it go, I’m sure of that.”

“What does he know?” asked Sam.

“He knows that Danny left the car with the valet, and he kept asking if I noticed whether Danny was drunk at the banquet. I’ve got to believe he’ll track down the valet and ask him the same thing. What if the valet remembers me getting into the car?”

“There were probably a lot of people there Saturday night,” Kimberly pointed out. “Is there any reason he’d remember you?”

“Well, a new Porsche might be something he’d remember. And I gave him a twenty-dollar tip.”

Kimberly hung her head and cursed silently to herself in the backseat. Sam said nothing, but rubbed a beefy hand over his face, as if washing himself with an invisible washcloth.

“What else does he know?” Sam asked, his tone becoming more brusque and irritable.

“He said there was a witness.”

“Did he say who it was?”

“No. It must be the little girl I saw.”

“Well, we’ve talked about that before. She was in shock, she was confused, she’s retarded… What else?”

“He knows that Danny’s phone was used to call 911. He said he’d be checking the recording.”

“Shit!” Sam muttered, shaking his head and staring harshly at his son-in-law. “What else, Blair?”