The judge agreed, adjourning court for the day after once more admonishing the jurors to avoid all media reports on the trial.
I stood at the defense table and watched the jurors file into the deliberation room. I was pretty sure that the prosecution had won the first day, but that was to be expected. We still had our shots coming. I looked over at my client.
“Walter, what do you have going tonight?” I asked.
“A small dinner party with friends. They’ve invited Dominick Dunne. Then I am going to watch the first cut of a film my studio is producing with Johnny Depp playing a detective.”
“Well, call your friends and call Johnny and cancel it all. You’re having dinner with me. We’re going to work.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve been ducking me since the trial began. That was okay because I didn’t want to know what I didn’t need to know. Now it’s different. We’re in trial, we’re past discovery, and I need to know. Everything, Walter. So, we’re going to talk tonight, or you’re going to have to hire another lawyer in the morning.”
I saw his face grow tight with checked anger. In that moment, I knew he could be a killer, or at least someone who could order it done.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said.
“Try me.”
We stared at each other for a moment and I saw something about his face relax.
“Make your calls,” I finally said. “We’ll take my car.”
Since I had insisted on the meeting, Elliot insisted on the place. With a thirty-second phone call he got us a private booth at the Water Grill over by the Biltmore and had a martini waiting on the table for him when we got there. As we sat down, I asked for a bottle of flat water and some sliced lemons.
I sat across from my client and watched him study the fresh fish menu. For the longest time I had wanted to be in the dark about Walter Elliot. Usually the less you know about your client, the better able you are to provide a defense. But we were past that time now.
“You called it a dinner meeting,” Elliot said without taking his eyes from the menu. “Aren’t you going to look?”
“I’m having what you’re having, Walter.”
He put the menu to the side and looked at me.
“Fillet of sole.”
“Sounds good.”
He signaled a waiter who had been standing nearby but too intimidated to approach the table. Elliot ordered for us both, adding a bottle of Chardonnay to come with the fish, and told the waiter not to forget about my flat water and lemon. He then clasped his hands on the table and looked expectantly at me.
“I could be dining with Dominick Dunne,” he said. “This better be good.”
“Walter, this
Elliot nodded as though he agreed it was time to deliver the goods.
“I did not kill my wife or her Nazi friend,” he said. “I have told you that from day one.”
I shook my head.
“That’s not good enough. I said I want the story. I want to know what really happened, Walter. I want to know what’s going on or I’m going to be moving on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. No judge is going to let you walk away in the middle of a trial.”
“You want to bet your freedom on that, Walter? If I want off this case, I will find a way off it.”
He hesitated and studied me before answering.
“You should be careful what you ask for. Guilty knowledge could be a dangerous thing.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“But I’m not sure I can.”
I leaned across the table to him.
“What does that mean, Walter? What is going on? I’m your lawyer. You can tell me what you’ve done and it stays with me.”
Before he could speak, the waiter brought a bottle of European water to the table and a side plate of sliced lemons. Enough for everybody in the restaurant. Elliot waited until he had filled my glass and moved away and out of earshot before responding.
“What is going on is that you have been hired to present my defense to the jury. In my estimation you have done an excellent job so far and your preparations for the defense phase are on the highest level. All of this in two weeks. Astonishing!”
“Drop the bullshit!”
I said it too loud. Elliot looked outside the booth and stared down a woman at a nearby table who had heard the expletive.
“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” he said. “The bond of attorney-client confidentiality ends at this table.”
I looked at him. He was smiling but I also knew he was reminding me of what I had already assured him of, that what was said here stayed here. Was it a signal that he was willing to finally talk? I played the only ace I had.
“Tell me about the bribe Jerry Vincent paid,” I said.
