Mason hesitated. He felt as if he were walking on an active fault line with Rachel that could cleave open and swallow him at any moment. She was beautiful, flirtatious, and completely unavailable. She knew she had him off balance, and was enjoying his disadvantage. He could live with that so long as she didn't take advantage of him in a way that compromised his defense of Blues.
"I think we need some ground rules here," he told her.
"So do I. Here's freedom-of-the-press rule number one. Everything's on the record unless you tell me in advance that it isn't on the record."
Mason shook his head. "Here's defense-lawyer rule number one. Nothing is on the record unless I say so. Rule number two-burn me and I'll cut you off at the knees."
Rachel folded her arms over her chest. "You're just angry about the lesbian thing. Hey, it wasn't my idea. A girl doesn't get to choose. Not that I'm complaining." Mason's only response was to reach for the doors to the board and start to close them. "Okay, okay," she told him. "Nothing is on the record unless you say so."
"Good. I don't know why they were at the bar, but I think she'll tell me."
"Why?"
"First, because I'm not going to print it on the front page of the newspaper in a story accusing her of being a crook. Second, I can put her under oath and make her tell me, and third, we know each other."
"How?"
"I took ethics from her when she taught at the law school. I was a first-year student and it was her first semester teaching. We hit it off pretty well, but I've only run into her a few times since I graduated. Alumni functions and that kind of thing."
Rachel nodded. "Is your client guilty?"
"No."
"How do you know?" she asked him.
Mason said, "He told me so."
"That's not good enough for an acquittal," Rachel said.
"It's good enough for me. All I have to do is figure out who did kill Jack Cullan. The cops are done looking. Any suggestions?" he asked her.
Rachel walked over to the dry-erase board, picked up the red marker, and wrote Cullan's secret files next to Mason's entry Who else?
"I've been chasing after Jack Cullan's shadow for three years," she said. "He was into everything important that happened or didn't happen in this town. Want to get elected? Go see Jack. Want to cut a deal with the city? Need tax increment financing? How about the pay telephone contract at the airport? Go see Jack. He always delivered the goods."
"How did he do it? Where did he get that kind of influence?"
"Cullan invested in the long term. Long-term relationships. Long-term political IOUs. One day, the city wakes up and peeks out from under its covers. Only the view is from Jack Cullan's back pocket. I kept picking up threads of a rumor that I put together even though I couldn't get anyone to corroborate it. Cullan took a page from J. Edgar Hoover's playbook. He supposedly had secret files on enough people in town to keep everyone in their place. He liked pulling strings and made certain the strings were tied on very tightly."
"You said you couldn't corroborate that. How do you know it's true?"
"The same reason you know your client is innocent. I can feel it. I just can't find the files."
Mason said, "Anyone who was in those files may have had a motive to kill Jack Cullan. The rest of them would give anything to make certain the files stayed secret. The easiest way for that to happen is to make certain Blues is found guilty."
"I'll make you a deal," Rachel said. "You find the files first, I get the exclusive. I find the files first, I'll let you see them before I go public."
Mason gave her a broad smile. "Deal," he told her. "Why so generous?"
"Let's just say that I'm a sucker for a good-looking rugby player," Rachel told him. Mason's smile got wider, his hope restored. "In fact, I'm dating one now. She's fabulous. I'll be in touch," she said as she left.
Mason finished studying the police reports without finding any daggers to throw at Harry on cross-examination. Harry had been as thorough as Mason had expected. The crime scene had been hermetically preserved. Photographs were taken from every angle, fingerprints lifted from every surface, and a meticulous search had been made for footprints and fibers that didn't belong. Two separate teams of detectives to check for inconsistencies or forgotten details interviewed every neighbor living in a two-block radius. The maid had passed a polygraph exam. The contents of the house had been inventoried and double-checked against Cullan's homeowner's insurance records. No valuables were missing and there was no sign of forced entry. Cullan had opened the door to someone who had come for one reason- to kill him.
