At first I detected a momentary shock in his eyes. Then came a knowing look as the wheels turned inside and he put something together. Then I thought I saw a quick flash of regret. I wished Julie Favreau had been sitting next to me. She could have read him better than I could.
“That is a very dangerous piece of information to be in possession of,” he said. “How did you get it?”
I obviously couldn’t tell my client I got it from a police detective I was now cooperating with.
“I guess you could say it came with the case, Walter. I have all of Vincent’s records, including his financials. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he funneled a hundred thousand of your advance to an unknown party. Is the bribe what got him killed?”
Elliot raised his martini glass with two fingers clenching the delicate stem and drank what was left in it. He then nodded to someone unseen over my shoulder. He wanted another. Then he looked at me.
“I think it is safe to say a confluence of events led to Jerry Vincent’s death.”
“Walter, I’m not fucking around with you. I need to know – not only to defend you, but to protect myself.”
He put his empty glass to the side of the table and someone whisked it away within two seconds. He nodded as if in agreement with me and then he spoke.
“I think you may have found the reason for his death,” he said. “It was in the file. You even mentioned it to me.”
“I don’t understand. What did I mention?”
Elliot responded in an impatient tone.
“He planned to delay the trial. You found the motion. He was killed before he could file it.”
I tried to put it together but I didn’t have enough of the parts.
“I don’t understand, Walter. He wanted to delay the trial and that got him killed? Why?”
Elliot leaned across the table toward me. He spoke in a tone just above a whisper.
“Okay, you asked for it and I’ll tell you. But don’t blame me when you wish you didn’t know what you know. Yes, there was a bribe. He paid it and everything was fine. The trial was scheduled and all we had to do was be ready to go. We had to stay on schedule. No delays, no continuances. But then he changed his mind and wanted to delay.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think he actually thought he could win the case without the fix.”
It appeared that Elliot didn’t know about the FBI’s phone calls and apparent interest in Vincent. If he did know, now would have been the time to mention it. The FBI’s focus on Vincent would have been as good a reason as any to delay a trial involving a bribery scheme.
“So delaying the trial got him killed?”
“That’s my guess, yes.”
“Did you kill him, Walter?”
“I don’t kill people.”
“You had him killed.”
Elliot shook his head wearily.
“I don’t
A waiter moved up to the booth with a tray and a stand and we both leaned back to let him work. He deboned our fish, plated them and put them down on the table along with two small serving pitchers with beurre blanc sauce in them. He then placed Elliot’s fresh martini down along with two wineglasses. He uncorked the bottle Elliot had ordered and asked if he wanted to taste the wine yet. Elliot shook his head and told the waiter to go away.
“Okay,” I said when we were left alone. “Let’s go back to the bribe. Who was bribed?”
Elliot took down half his new martini in one gulp.
“That should be obvious when you think about it.”
“Then I’m stupid. Help me out.”
“A trial that cannot be delayed. Why?”
My eyes stayed on him but I was no longer looking at him. I went inside to work the riddle until it came to me. I ticked off the possibilities – judge, prosecutor, cops, witnesses, jury… I realized that there was only one place where a bribe and an unmovable trial intersected. There was only one aspect that would change if the trial were delayed and rescheduled. The judge, prosecutor and all the witnesses would remain the same no matter when it was scheduled. But the jury pool changes week to week.
“There’s a sleeper on the jury,” I said. “You got to somebody.”
Elliot didn’t react. He let me run with it and I did. My mind swept along the faces in the jury box. Two rows of six. I stopped on juror number seven.
“Number seven. You wanted him in the box. You knew. He’s the sleeper. Who is he?”
Elliot nodded slightly and gave me that half smile. He took his first bite of fish before answering my question as calmly as if we were talking about the Lakers’ chances at the playoffs and not the rigging of a murder trial.
“I have no idea who he is and don’t really care to know. But he’s ours. We were told that number seven would be ours. And he’s no sleeper. He’s a persuader. When it gets to deliberations, he will go in there and turn the tide for the defense. With the case Vincent built and you’re delivering, it probably won’t take more than a little push. I’m banking on us getting our verdict. But at minimum he will hold out for acquittal and we’ll have a hung jury. If that happens, we just start all over and do it again. They will never convict me, Mickey. Never.”
I pushed my plate aside. I couldn’t eat.
