Redress of Grievances Read online

  "So you're not really giving me the option of rejecting the case?"

  "Of course we are. If you're uncomfortable with the case, or if you agree to meet with Jared and then want to turn it down, you're free to do that."

  "Why do I have that uncomfortable feeling that unless I take the case, Winston and Dunne might lose Wilkes Transport as a client?"

  "People like Wilkes always make threats like that. They're used to having people jump through their asses when they speak, but Winston and Dunne will never allow itself to get tangled up in being intimidated by its clients."

  "I guess it can't hurt to talk to Wilkes. Who knows? Maybe he is innocent," Harriett said taking a drink from her coffee cup. "The worst that can happen is that I'll delay my weekend by a few hours. Not much anyone can do before Monday morning anyway and it isn't likely any judge is going to grant bail on a multiple homicide."

  Alex looked at her, and the slow smile Harriett had come to love crossed her face. Alex outlined Harriett's face with the tips of her fingers before rising from the couch and leaving the office. Harriett picked up her shoes and went to her desk, glancing at her wristwatch before punching the intercom button.

  "Yes, Ms. Markham," Eleanor's voice answered.

  "Would you see if you can catch someone at the DA's office, Eleanor? If possible, whoever will be prosecuting the Jared Wilkes case," Harriett said, slipping her shoes back on. "And see if you can reach my mother."

  She vaguely recalled reading an inside article noting the death of a teenage girl in Dallas, but since that wasn't a total rarity, she didn't remember much else about the article. As soon as she knew more, she would get Eleanor to research back issues of the newspaper for articles about the cases her potential client was being charged with. Her thoughts were interrupted by a buzz on her intercom.

  "Yes, Eleanor."

  "I have Assistant District Attorney Connor on line two, Ms. Markham," Eleanor reported.

  "Thank you," Harriett said. As she picked up the receiver, she pulled off an earring and leaned back in her chair, turning to look out her office window at a sun that was swiftly setting on what was supposed to be the beginning of her perfect weekend.

  "Todd? Harriett Markham. How are you?" she said.

  "I'd be better if I could get the hell out of here and go home. I was almost out the door when your secretary called. What can I do for you?" Todd Connor asked.

  "I'm calling about the Wilkes case, Todd, and..."

  "Please tell me you haven't agreed to represent that pervert, Harriett. It's a loser from start to finish."

  "Can you tell me what you've got?"

  "You'll get it during the pre-trial disclosure. There isn't anything I'd care to talk about over the phone, but it should be sufficient to get Mr. Wilkes the fatal cocktail somewhere down the line."

  "You sound pretty confident."

  "On this one, I am. They don't come any guiltier than this guy, Harriett, and I'd advise you not to let the honchos at Winston and Dunne convince you this is a career maker."

  "The young man's father is a client here and has asked us to help the kid. You know how it goes."

  "Have you talked to 'the kid' yet?"

  "No, I'm meeting with him in a little bit, but thought I'd check in with your office first."

  Connor laughed, "You just wanted to know who you'd be going against if you took the case. Guess that'd be me. Don't you hate it when you have to oppose a friend in court?"

  "Yeah, but hopefully you can still remain friends when it's over."

  "You got a loser here, Harriett, but my office won't hold anything back from you. You'll get full disclosure."

  "I know, and thanks for the advice, Todd. Give my best to Erica."

  "If I ever get to see her again."

  As soon as she hung up, Eleanor buzzed again to tell Harriett that her mother was on hold.

  "Mom," she said as she picked up the receiver again, "I just wanted to make sure you and Lacey got home all right."

  "We got in a little while ago."

  "Are you sure you don't mind having her for the long weekend? I know it's a little late to ask that, but..."

  "Don't worry, sweetheart," Irene Markham laughed. "Lacey has a full weekend planned. She's as much of an organizer as you were. Do you want to talk to her?"

  "Yeah. For just a minute. Thanks, Mom."

  "Hey, Aunt Harriett!" Lacey's cheerful six-year-old voice chirped.

  "Hi, baby. Grandma told me you have big plans for the weekend. Don't you run her ragged, you hear?"

  "I won't," Lacey said. Lowering her voice, the girl giggled into the phone, "Grandma is really the one with the big plans though."

  "I know," Harriett smiled. "I'll pick you up Sunday afternoon. Have fun. I love you."

  "Love you, too."

  Twenty minutes later, Harriett walked out of her office carrying her briefcase. Stopping at Eleanor's desk, she placed the last of her billable hour summaries on her secretary's desk.

  "I'm going to the Dallas County Jail to interview a possible client, Eleanor. After that I'll be incommunicado for a couple of days. So if you have anything for me, you'd better give it to me now. Otherwise, it will have to wait until Monday morning."

  "I think I've already given you everything that was urgent, Ms. Markham, and fended off the rest until next week," Eleanor smiled. Then lowering her voice conspiratorially, she whispered, "Have a great weekend. You deserve it."

  Leaning down slightly, she winked at Eleanor and whispered back, "You're right, I do."

  As she moved toward the elevator, Doug Winston came down the hall from his office, stopping as he reached her.

  "I assume Alex spoke to you about the Wilkes case," Doug said, running a big hand over the beginnings of beard stubble.

  "I'm on my way to the jail now. I'll make a decision after I speak to the Wilkes boy and let you know Monday morning."

  Taking her by the arm and pulling her slightly closer to him, Winston said, "I don't want you to feel pressured to take this case, Harriett. I've met the Wilkes kid, and he's not someone I'd personally like to spend a lot of time around."

  "Let me talk to him, Doug. I think I can handle it."

  "I'd never doubt that," he said. "Sorry if this has crunched your weekend."

  "It's okay, I'm not going that far from Dallas and will still have plenty of time to rest up."

  "Planning to sleep in and play lazy for a few days, huh?" he asked.

  "Something like that." Harriett smiled wryly.

  The drive from the office tower that housed Winston and Dunne to the Dallas Police Headquarters Building ordinarily took about twenty minutes, but the late Thursday afternoon traffic made the trip longer than usual. It was after five by the time she parked her metallic gray BMW in the parking lot reserved for attorneys and entered the back door in central booking that served as the attorney's entrance. Stopping in front of a female desk officer, Harriett opened her briefcase for inspection and signed in.

  "Harriett Markham to see Jared Wilkes," she said.

  "Interview Room Nine," the woman said pointing down the hallway. "They'll bring him down in a few minutes."

  "Do you have his jacket here?" Harriett asked.

  The officer looked through a short stack of file folders and produced one marked "Wilkes, Jared, Case No. 4536885."

  HARRIETT SLIPPED HER glasses on and took out a legal pad and a pen as she waited for her prospective client to join her. The folder on Jared Wilkes gave her the basic information about the accused. Twenty-five years old, six feet, a hundred seventy pounds, no distinguishing scars or marks. Placed under arrest and charged with four counts of rape and murder. Victims were listed as Lydia Marshall, age sixteen, a high school student; another high school student, Tiffany Watson, age seventeen; Laurie Mitchell, an eighteen-year-old high school senior; and Carrie Margolis, a nineteen-year-old college freshman at SMU. The investigator's report showed four nearly identical crimes, each involving extreme brutality. Apparently the
victims had been beaten into submission and then raped. Marks on the girls' necks indicated that each had been strangled to death. However, due to the extensive amount of bruising on the victims' necks, the medical examiner speculated each girl had been strangled nearly to the brink of death during repeated rapes over an extended period of time. Furthermore, it was possible that the rapes may have involved some form of autoeroticism occurring as the victims lost consciousness. From the report, it seemed to Harriett that the medical examiner had done quite a lot of speculating.

  Nearly fifteen minutes later, the door of the interview room opened, and Jared Wilkes, handcuffed to a waist chain and wearing leg shackles, shuffled into the room. The bright orange prisoner's coveralls fit loosely on the young man's body, and his dark hair hung down slightly onto his forehead. Harriett stood as Wilkes was led into the room, accompanied by two Dallas County jailers.

  "Please remove the cuffs," she instructed.

  "You sure?" one of the jailers asked.

  "Since you're going to be right outside the door, I doubt Mr. Wilkes would be able to do anything very drastic," she said.

  Wilkes rubbed his wrists as the cuffs were removed and smiled at Harriett. He was an attractive young man with blue-gray eyes that stood out under his dark hair and eyebrows. As soon as his hands were free, he ran them through his hair. He had a quick smile and had probably benefited at some time in his life from the services of an excellent orthodontist. Pulling out a chair opposite Harriett and sitting down, he took a cigarette out of his coverall pocket and stuck it between his narrow lips.

  "Got it from another prisoner, but the guards won't allow us to have matches," he shrugged. "Go figure."

  Harriett pulled a small lighter from her briefcase and shoved it toward him.

  "My name is Harriett Markham, Mr. Wilkes. Your father has requested that my law firm represent you. But first, I need to get a little information."

  "When can I get out of here?" Wilkes asked as he lit the cigarette.

  "Considering the nature of the crimes you're charged with, I wouldn't bet on any time soon."

  He extended the lighter toward her, and she glanced up when she saw him move. She held her hand out, and he set it gently into the palm of her hand, allowing his index finger to run the length of her palm as he withdrew his hand. The action startled her momentarily, and her eyes met his. He seemed pleased that he had gotten a reaction from her.

  "Why do the police think you're a suspect in these killings, Mr. Wilkes?"

  "Bad timing, I guess," he said as he shrugged.

  "The police usually have a little more than that."

  "I knew the girls who were killed."

  "In what capacity?"

  "Just acquaintances. You know, hanging around."

  "Do you usually hang around with sixteen and seventeen year olds?"

  "A lot of them go to the clubs and have fake ID's, Ms. Markham. With the way girls dress and act these days, it's hard for a guy to know how old they really are."

  "So you met these girls at clubs?"

  "Yeah."

  "Ever take any of them out?"

  "I take out lots of girls. I might have asked one or two of them out."

  "Did you have intercourse with any of these girls?"

  "You mean the ones who were killed?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't believe so. I'd have to see pictures of them to know for sure. I don't always catch the names of the women I have sex with."

  Harriett wrote four names on her legal pad and turned it for Wilkes to read.

  "These the girls they say I killed?" Wilkes asked, glancing briefly at the pad.

  "Raped and killed, yes."

  Jared Wilkes eyes flashed up to Harriett's face.

  "I've never had to resort to physical violence to fuck a woman, counselor. There's plenty out there who are more than willing to jump into bed and spread their legs without the slightest hesitation. Why would I need to force myself on one who didn't want it?"

  "Rape isn't about sex, Mr. Wilkes. Men with seemingly normal sex lives still rape."

  Wilkes leaned forward and stared at her.

  "But sex is the ultimate domination, Harriett. Every time a woman slides her body under a man's, it's a sign of submission that says, 'fuck me, I want it.'"

  "Is that your own interpretation?"

  "Nah, I read it somewhere," he said matter-of-factly as he leaned back and exhaled cigarette smoke. "But I think it's an accurate description."

  "What if, in the midst of this sexual submission, the woman changed her mind? How would you feel about that?"

  "There are plenty of other willing fish in the ocean."

  Wilkes took another drag on his cigarette and his eyes scanned Harriett's face.

  "How would you let a man know you were ready to give it up, Harriett?" Wilkes asked.

  "Do you recognize any of those names?" Harriett asked pointing at the pad, ignoring the question.

  "I already told you I knew them. I just don't remember whether I slept with any of them. I might have."

  "Do you use drugs or alcohol?"

  "I've been known to drink more than my share, and dear old Mom and Dad stuck me in rehab once a couple of years ago."

  "For drinking?"

  "Coke," he answered shaking his head. "But I've kicked that now. Found a better way to get high."

  "And what is that?"

  "Fuckin' women," Wilkes smiled broadly. "I like women. Very intoxicating. That's a nice perfume you're wearing, by the way. What is it?"

  "According to the detective's report, you were seen with each of these girls on the night they died. And they have a hair and semen type match on all four that matches your hair and semen. I assume you have an explanation for that."

  "Look, I said I might have slept with them. That doesn't mean I killed them."

  "You like your sex a little kinky, Jared?"

  "What do you mean by kinky?" Wilkes asked looking surprised by the question.

  "Come on, Jared. Into any S&M, leather, whips, that kind of thing?"

  "Is that what turns you on?"

  "My sex life isn't in question. Before we go any further, there's one thing you should know, Mr. Wilkes."

  "Yeah? What's that?" Wilkes smiled.

  "If you expect me to represent you in court, you can't bullshit me. You have to tell me the absolute truth. Nothing you tell me can ever be repeated by me to anyone. If you told me right now that you're guilty as hell, I couldn't tell anyone. So I want you to cut the crap, and tell me the truth. If you're not willing to do that, find yourself another lawyer. So far you're not impressing me, if that's what you've been trying to do. I've been a practicing adult a long time, and there's not much that shocks me anymore."

  Jared finished his cigarette and crushed it out in an ashtray on the table without looking at Harriett. She saw his jaw muscle tighten and relax.

  "What's it going to be, Mr. Wilkes? I have plans for the weekend and would like to get the hell out of here."

  "Okay, I'll tell you the truth, Ms. Markham. I've been a pain in the ass since I was born. Always in trouble and guilty more often than not. I admit to drinking too much and using drugs on occasion, but I'm not a murderer. I knew all of those girls, and I had sex with them, but I didn't kill them. I should have gone to the police voluntarily after Lydia and Tiffany were killed, but they were both underage, and I didn't want to get slapped with a statutory charge. But I guess that would have been better than a rape and murder charge."

  "Didn't you think it was unusual that four girls you'd slept with all wound up dead?"

  "Of course, but there are plenty of others I scored with who are still alive to talk about it. Maybe someone followed me and killed those girls after I left them."

  "Do you have an alibi for where you were after you left them?"

  "Not one that anyone would believe. All I can tell you is that I didn't kill those girls."

  "Okay. Let me look over what else the police have, and I'
ll make a decision by Monday about whether I'll take your case. Do they have you separated from the other prisoners here?"

  Jared lowered his head and nodded. "I just want to get out here," he mumbled.

  "Unless the police suddenly discover another suspect that probably isn't going to happen for quite a while."

  Chapter Four

  BY THE TIME Harriett pointed her BMW north toward the Texas-Oklahoma border, it was almost dark. Despite the fact that it was a long weekend, traffic was light, and she made good time. Ninety minutes later, she crossed the Oklahoma border not far from Lake Texoma. For over twenty years, her father had owned a fishing cabin on the lake. When Farley Markham died, he left the cabin to her. She had accompanied her father to the cabin many times, and she had nothing but good memories of the times the two of them had spent there. Over the years, the cabin had fallen into some disrepair. Farley hadn't made many trips after Harriett left home and had let annual repairs slide. Since his death, she had expended a tidy sum to have the chimney re-bricked and the exterior of the cabin repaired and weatherproofed. In the last two or three years, she had slowly refurbished the two bedroom cabin to the point where a person could probably inhabit it year round. She thought that one day she might retire to the cabin, but for now, it was her private getaway to stabilize her hectic life. She wished she could make more than three or four trips a year.

  As she turned off the main road and onto a gravel side road, she was eager to get into the safety of the cabin. Following the road along the edge of the lake, she saw lights in the cabin windows and a wisp of smoke floating lazily from the chimney. The sun was setting; and the evening sky held hints of cooler weather, and the smell of distant rain was in the air. She loved the smell of impending rain, with its promise to wash everything away and make it fresh and clean again. She let her vehicle roll to a stop on the grass in front of the cabin and got out. The lake was as smooth as glass in the moonlight. Good fishing night, she thought. A short fishing pier jutted out into the water, and in the quiet, Harriett could hear the water lapping against its pilings. As she stared out over the water and felt its calmness soothe her, a beam of light cut into the darkness from behind her. Turning her head, she saw Alex's silhouette standing on the porch, the light from inside the cabin creating a halo around her body. The idea of Alex as an angel brought a smile to Harriett's lips for nothing could have been further from the truth. The silhouette moved across the porch and down the steps toward her as she resumed gazing out over the water. A minute later she felt Alex's arms slip around her waist, pulling her closer, making her feel safe and wanted. As she turned in Alex's arms, she could make out the fine features of her lover's face.