The Gods of Guilt(35)
I looked at Forsythe and shook my head.
“Andre’s not getting cold feet,” I said. “He still says he didn’t do it and still wants to see if you can prove he did.”
“So no deal, then.”
“No deal.”
“Then, I guess I’ll see you at jury selection, May sixth.”
That was the date Leggoe had set for the start of the trial. She was giving us four days max to pick a jury and a day for lastminute motions and opening statements. The real show would start the following week, when the prosecution began its case.
“Oh, you might see me before that. You never know.”
I snapped my briefcase closed and headed toward the steel door to the holding cell. The court deputy escorted me back and I found La Cosse waiting alone in the cell.
“We’ll be moving him back in fifteen,” the deputy said.
“Okay, thanks,” I said.
“Knock when you’re ready to come out.”
I waited until the deputy went back through the courtroom door before turning and looking at my client through the bars.
“Andre, I’m worried. It doesn’t look like you’re eating.”
“I’m not eating. How could anyone eat when they’re in here for something they didn’t do? Besides, the food is fucking horrible. I just want to go home.”
I nodded.
“I know, I know.”
“You are going to win this, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to give it my best shot. But just so you know, the DA is still floating a deal out there if you want me to pursue it.”
La Cosse emphatically shook his head.
“I don’t even want to hear what it is. No deal.”
“That’s what I thought. So we go to trial.”
“What if we win the motion to suppress?”
I shrugged.
“Don’t get your hopes up on that. I told you, it’s a long shot. You have to expect that we are going to go to trial.”
La Cosse lowered his head until his forehead was against one of the bars that separated us. He looked like he was going to cry.
“Look, I know I’m not a good guy,” he said. “I did a lot of bad things in my life. But I didn’t do this. I didn’t.”
“And I’m going to do my best to prove it, Andre. You can count on that.”
He drew his head up to look at me eye to eye and nodded.
“That’s what Giselle said. That she could count on you.”
“She said that? Count on me for what?”
“You know, like if anything happened to her, she knew she could count on you to not let it go by.”
I paused for a moment. In the past five months La Cosse and I had had limited communication. He was in jail and I was working a full caseload. We spoke when together for court hearings and during occasional phone calls from the pink module, where he was housed at Men’s Central. Even so, I thought I had gotten everything I needed from him in order to defend him at trial. But what he had just said was new information, and it gave me pause because it was about Gloria Dayton, who still remained an enigma to me.
“Why did she tell you that?”
La Cosse shook his head slightly, as though he didn’t understand the urgency I had put into my voice.
“I don’t know. We were just talking once and she mentioned you. You know, like if anything happens to me, then Mickey Mantle will go to bat for me.”
“When did she say that?”
“I don’t remember. She just said it. She said to make sure to let you know.”
With my one free hand I gripped one of the bars and moved closer to my client.
“You told me you came to me because she said I was a good lawyer. You didn’t tell me any of this other stuff.”
“I had just been arrested for murder and was scared shitless. I wanted you to take my case.”
I held myself back from reaching through the bars and grabbing him by the collar of his jumpsuit.
“Andre, listen to me. I want you to tell me exactly what she said. Use her words.”
“She just said that if something happened to her, I had to promise to tell you. And then something did happen and I got arrested. So I called you.”
“How close was this conversation to when she was murdered?”
“I can’t remember exactly.”
“Days? Weeks? Months? Come on, Andre. It could be important.”
“I don’t know. A week, maybe longer. I can’t remember because being in this place, all the noise and the lights on all the time and the animals, it wears you down and you start losing your mind. I can’t remember things, I don’t even remember what my mother looks like anymore.”
“Okay, calm down. You think about this on the bus ride and when you’re back in your own cell. I want you to remember exactly when this conversation took place. Okay?”