He’s had the Jiliana Kemp case since the beginning. Four months ago, he had a mild heart attack and his doctor told him to retire. He found another doctor. I stand beside him and both of us look through the mirror. We do not say hello. He thinks all defense lawyers are scum and would never stoop to shake my hand.
Swanger is alone in the interrogation room. He’s kicked back in his folding chair and has his feet on the table, totally bored with everything. “What’s he said?” I ask.
“Nothing. Name, rank, and serial number, and after that he called for you. Said he saw your name in the newspaper.”
“So he can read?”
“IQ of 130, I’d guess. He just looks stupid.”
Indeed he does. Plump with a double chin; large brown freckles from the neck up; head practically shaved but for a few waxed bristles, like the old butch crew cut from sixty years ago, pre-Beatles. To attract either attention or ridicule, he is wearing a pair of round-frame glasses, absurdly large and aqua blue in color.
“About those glasses,” I say.
“Drugstore, cheap and fake. He doesn’t need glasses but he fancies himself clever when it comes to disguises. Actually, he’s pretty good. He’s slipped our surveillance a few times in the past month but always comes home.”
“What do you have on him?”
Landy exhales in fatigue and frustration. “Not much,” he says, and I admire the guy’s honesty. He’s a brilliant cop and knows better than to level with me, but he inspires confidence.
“Enough for an indictment?”
“I wish. We’re not even close to an arrest. Chief wants to hold him for a week or two. Crank up the pressure, you know, see if the guy’ll break. But really to see if lightning will strike and we get lucky. Fat chance. We’ll probably let him go again. Between me and you, Rudd, we ain’t got much.”
“Seems like you have plenty of suspicion.”
Landy grunts and laughs. “We’re good at that. Look at him, talk about suspicious. I’d give him ten years in solitary just based on the first impression.”
“Maybe five,” I say.
“Talk to him, and if you want, I’ll show you the file tomorrow.”
“Okay, I’m going in, but I’ve never met this guy and I’m not sure I’ll be his lawyer. There’s always the issue of getting paid and he doesn’t look too prosperous. If he’s indigent, PD takes over and I’m out of the picture.”
“Have fun.”
Swanger takes his feet off the desk, stands, and we make our introductions. Firm handshake, eye contact, easy voice with no trace of concern. Playing it cool, I restrain myself from telling him to take off those damned glasses. If he likes ’em then I’m crazy about ’em.
“I saw you on TV,” he says. “That cage fighter that killed the ref. Whatever happened to him?”
“The case is still pending, waiting for a trial. You go to cage fights?”
“No. I watch ’em on TV with my mum. I thought about getting into it a few years back.”
I almost laugh. Even if he dropped thirty pounds and trained eight hours a day, this guy wouldn’t last ten seconds in a cage. He’d probably faint in the dressing room. I sit at the table, empty-handed, and ask, “Now, what did you want to talk about?”
“That girl, man, you know the case. These guys think I’m involved in some way and they’re hassling me. They’ve been on my ass for months now, always hiding in the shadows as if I don’t know what’s going on. This is the second time they’ve hauled me in here like something on television. You watch
“Your first murder charge, right?”
“Hang on, Superman. I ain’t been charged yet.”
“Okay, assuming you are charged with murder, I take it you want me to represent you.”
“Well, gee, why else would I call you, Mr. Rudd? I’m not sure I need a lawyer right now but it damned sure feels like it.”
“Understood. Are you employed?”
“Here and there. How much do you charge for a murder case?”
“Depends on how much a person can pay. A case like this, I’ll need ten thousand up front and that’ll just get us through the indictment phase. Once we’re looking at a trial, then we get to the serious fee. If we can’t agree, then you go elsewhere.”
“Where’s elsewhere?”
“Public defender’s office. They handle virtually all murders.”
“Figures. But what you’re not factoring in here, Mr. Rudd, is all the publicity. Ain’t too many cases as big as this one. Pretty girl, important family, and that thing with the baby. If she had a kid, then where is it, right? That’ll drive the press crazy. So you gotta figure that this thing is front-page news, starting right about now. I’ve seen you on television. I know how much you love to bark and growl and strut in front of the cameras. This case will be a gold mine for my defense lawyer. Don’t you agree, Mr. Rudd?”
