Chapter 9

July 26, 1996

Friday morning

When I arrived at The Freedom Agenda, Karen told me we'd gotten an email from Paul Michaels with the reunion information. She'd printed it out and handed it to me. I went in the back, made myself comfortable, and called the number. When I asked for the information on Sharon Hawley, I was told they couldn't give it out but that they would contact her and give her my information. It was up to her whether she called me. I gave both the number for The Freedom Agenda and my cellular number.

We were expecting Raymond Harris, Larry Wilkes' public defender, at eleven. I had some time to kill, so I went out to the front and asked Karen, "Could you check Lexis/Nexis for Ivan Melchor. He was born in 1906 and died in 1972. It's for the Karpinskis."

"When we get you a computer, I'm going to get you a login so you can do this for yourself."

"Oh God," I said. I really didn't want to get involved in things like that. I mean, a lot could go wrong, right?

Karen seemed to read my mind, saying, "Don't worry. I'm not giving you the nuclear codes. Get me a coffee and I'll probably have something by the time you get back. Two creamers, three sugars." She held out her coffee cup.

When I got back just a few minutes later, her printer was running.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"An obituary in the L.A. Times and a short item in the Hollywood Reporter about his papers being donated to the Margaret Herrick Library."

"What kind of papers?"

"Read the obituary," she said, handing it to me.

The headline read "Oscar-nominated art director dies at 66."

"Ivan Melchor, one of Hollywood's most prolific set designers, has passed away after a short illness at his Holmby Hills home, his agent reports.

"Melchor was long under contract to Monumental Pictures, an association which benefited both parties greatly. Receiving eighteen Academy Award nominations over a twenty-six-year period, Melchor is credited with the Monumental ‘look' when it came to musicals, one of the most famous being The Girl From Albany. He's been quoted as calling his style, ‘Reality-plus.' He said, ‘Everything should look realistic but also be so much more than real. My designs are more about what life could be rather than what it is.'

"Showing artistic talent from a young age, Melchor was forced to leave school and worked his way up from stagehand to set dresser to set designer beginning in the days of silent pictures. Some of his most memorable films are O'Bannion's Bluff, A Rose for Harriet and all of the Scamp detective films.

"Though occasionally linked to Hollywood starlets, Melchor was a lifelong bachelor. In an interview just months before he died, he's quoted as saying, ‘My work has been more than enough for me. Work and friends. No one needs more than that.' Services are private."

I finished reading then glanced at the brief notice about his papers. I asked, "What do you think this guy's papers would consist of?"

"Drawings, blueprints, sketch pads, business correspondence, diaries."

"Diaries," I couldn't help saying. That's what I wanted. I wanted this guy's diaries. "Where is this place?"

"The Margaret Herrick Library is in Beverly Hills. Are you going now?"

"No."

"I'll give you the street address later."

"Speaking of later. I have a list of names, people from this book. Most of them are probably dead. I don't have time to talk to them until Tuesday. I wouldn't need the list back until Tuesday morning."

She looked at me skeptically, then said, "All right. Get the list."

I went back to my makeshift desk and grabbed the piece of paper on which I'd written down the names of Vera's friends and detective who'd worked her case. I was only about a third of the way through the book, so I knew I was taking a chance. I'd peeked ahead to the next chapter and the one after—good old Wallace was going through the suspects one by one. Of course, the most likely suspect was going to be at the end of the book. Putting them in any earlier just didn't make sense.

I brought my list out to Karen. There were only eight names. She looked at me and said, "Tuesday."

"Yes."

"Okay," she said, as she set the list aside. Then she picked up a copy of People Magazine. Will Smith was on the cover. She saw me looking at the magazine and said, "What?"

"Nothing."

I scurried to the back. I was trying to decide if I wanted to read more of Canyon Girl or just make a list of all the things I had to do. Before I could decide the phone rang. Karen picked it up and then a moment later called out, "It's for you!"

I pressed the blinking plastic square on my phone, and said, "Hello, this is Dom Reilly."

"This is Sharon Hawley. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I work at The Freedom Agenda?—"

"The what?"

"We attempt to free people who were unjustly convicted."

"You must not have a lot to do."

"Actually, I'm looking for your sister. I'm told she was in the same class with Sammy Blanchard."

"Someone put Sammy in prison?"

"No, we're trying to get a new trial for Larry Wilkes."

"But he's guilty. Why would you do that?"

"We have reason to believe he's innocent."

"And you want to talk to Kelly?"

"Yes. I want to know if she was friends with Sammy Blanchard or if she knew someone who was."

"What does Sammy Blanchard have to do with Larry Wilkes? They were like two grades apart."

"I'm just gathering information at this point."

Not exactly truthful but the truth might get in the way. I could almost hear her thinking on the other end. Finally, she asked, "Where are you?"

"Long Beach."

"I can bring my sister. Two o'clock?"

That was cutting it close. "Four?"

"Three."

"Okay. Three o'clock at Hot Times? Do you know it?"

"On Broadway? I've driven by it. See you then."

It was around ten-thirty. I went and stuck my head into Lydia's office. She was dressed casually in a pink blouse and navy skirt. The outfit showed off her figure, which she usually hid in more angular outfits. I wondered for a moment if the meeting had been called off.

"I should have asked this earlier," I said. "But are we set for this meeting?"

"I've read the transcript, most of it this morning. I have a list of questions." She tapped a pad next to her.

"Can I ask why we're not using Edwin's conference room?"

"Harris is a public defender. They don't have much to work with. I want to put us on the same level. Engender sympathy."

"He's a lawyer. I doubt that will work."

"Ouch. I'm a lawyer."

"Sorry. It's true though."

She couldn't help smiling. "I have something in mind—" She was interrupted by the bell over the front door ringing. "He's early. As expected."

We could hear him saying, "Raymond Harris. I'm here for the deposition."

"One moment," Karen said. Then Lydia's phone buzzed.

She picked up and said, "I'll be right out." Hanging up, she remained seated.

In the lobby, Karen said, "She'll be with you shortly."

Lydia remained in her chair. I waited for her to look at me. When she did, I mouthed the word, ‘Deposition'? She smiled, a Cheshire cat.

Then, still in no hurry, she stood up. From her desk, she picked up two of four-inch three ring binders sitting there and handed them to me. For the first time, I noticed that she'd used Post-It Flags to mark the places she wanted to refer to. There were many. Very many.

She picked up the third binder and her pad, then led me out to the lobby where we found Raymond Harris. Bald with a messy fringe of hair hanging down to his collar, he was in his early sixties and looked—well, the expression ‘rode hard and put away wet' came to mind. Under one arm, he held a thick manila envelope which had also seen better days.

Oddly, his suit was perfect. Simple, charcoal grey with a white shirt and a red and black ‘power' tie. It had been recently dry-cleaned. I could smell the chemicals. Then I realized the suit was from the late sixties and older than my boyfriend.

"Raymond, it's a pleasure to meet you in person," Lydia said. "This is my investigator, Dom Reilly. And my office manager, Karen Addison."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," he said. He didn't shake anyone's hands. There were too many. And besides that, he'd noticed the notebooks Lydia and I were holding. His eyes narrowed.

"We're back here," Lydia said, turning to lead us to the unimproved space behind the offices. "Can we get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"

"Water please."

Karen had followed us and went to the college dorm-style refrigerator and got him a bottle of Evian.

"No video? I thought everyone was doing video these days," he said.

"Video? Oh no, Raymond, this isn't a deposition. Just a friendly chat."

Though they seemed to make a liar out of her, she set the notebooks onto the table. I followed suit. Karen placed the Evian at the seat across from us.

"I'm sure you said it was a deposition," Harris said, clearly grumpy. Well, he had dry-cleaned his suit after all. "I distinctly remember the word."

"I'm sure—well, maybe I misspoke. I had a deposition earlier this week. I might have gotten confused. So many details."

My God,I thought. She's playing the dumb girl.

"I mean, we will be doing a deposition. After I've gone through the file you've brought. For today it's just a few questions. Shouldn't take long."

Three notebooks with dozens of flags and a pad full of questions in tiny, cramped writing said otherwise.

He sat, obviously displeased, putting the manila envelope down next to him and cracked his bottle Evian. I reached across the table and pulled the envelope over to our side.

"I was only planning to be here an hour."

"Oh goodness," Lydia said. "It definitely won't take that long. We should start, though, shouldn't we?"

He didn't respond.

"Prior to trial, was there a plea bargain offered?"

"Yes. It's in the documents I brought."

"What was it?"

"Voluntary Manslaughter."

"That's a pretty good deal."

"Yes, I told him to take it. He'd have been out of prison ten years ago. Probably more."

"Did that tell you anything?"

"That my client was an idiot?"

"That they offered him such a good deal."

"What are you getting at?"

"They wouldn't have offered him such a good deal if they had a good case."

"They had a good case. They convicted him." He set his jaw. Already this was making him angry.

"Looking at the pre-trial motions, you asked for several continuances. Can you tell me why?"

"I was giving Larry time to accept the plea deal."

"It didn't come with a time limit?"

"Of course, it did. They always say that. But if we asked before the trial started, they would have put it back on the table."

"Let's move on to testimony. Starting with Detective David Harper."

"Is this about ineffective assistance of counsel? Is that what you're trying to claim?"

"I'm sure you know that a writ of habeas corpus based solely on ineffective assistance of counsel rarely works."

"What else do you have?"

"We'll get to that," she said. By this point, I was sure he'd put the idea that she was dumb right out of his head. "Can you tell me why a detective was testifying? Wouldn't an officer have been first on scene? Why do you think they put a detective on the stand?"

"I'm sure it was meant to save time. The detective could testify to the case more fully than an officer."

"The responding officer's report is in the file you brought?"

"I believe so."

"You didn't go through the file to refresh your memory?"

"You led me to believe the deposition would be narrow in scope. I didn't feel I had to reacquaint myself with the entire file."

"You made a copy of the materials you've provided to us?"

"Yes, of course."

"Detective Harper claimed that Larry Wilkes appeared remorseful when he arrived on scene. If the responding officer's assessment disagreed with the detective that would be a reason to keep him off the stand. Do you think that was possible?"

"If I thought that I would have done something about it at the time."

"To your credit, you did object to the word remorseful twice. Did you consider calling a rebuttal witness?"

"You're assuming there was one."

"Let's move on to Andy Showalter. You questioned him on why he got a gun for Larry."

"I did."

"You didn't get a satisfactory answer and then failed to pursue it. Can you explain that?"

"I don't have the transcript. You know how much they cost. I would not have gotten one then, or now."

"Andy Showalter and Larry Wilkes were both white teenagers who would probably have been scared of going to Compton at the time. What would the advantage have been to having Andy get the gun instead of Larry getting it himself?"

"Are you kidding? It's always good for a murderer to distance himself from the murder weapon."

"You asked Andy why he did it and he said he wanted to be friends. That doesn't seem a strong motive. You made a snide remark but didn't really pursue it. Was there a reason you didn't?"

"Two decades later, I have no idea."

"Andy Showalter committed suicide a few years later. We've spoken to his mother; he had significant mental issues. During the trial he was being treated by a psychiatrist. Were you aware of that?"

"I'm a public defender. I had, and have, limited access to an investigator. I'm not sure I could have justified it in this case."

"Andy Showalter was an impeachable witness from a number of angles. You didn't pursue any of them."

That made Harris very angry. Metaphoric smoke was coming out of his ears. Lydia took a sip of water from her own Evian bottle, then said, "Larry Wilkes is gay. You were aware of that while defending him?"

"I can't recall offhand. I'd have to check the file. But I don't believe it's in there."

"Would you have written that down?"

"Possibly not."

"Possibly or probably?"

"Probably."

"Larry Wilkes and the victim were lovers. Do you recall him sharing that information with you?"

"Well, no. If I did then I'd recall that he was gay, wouldn't I?"

"He says that you wanted him to hide that he was gay from the jury. That it would hurt his case if they knew."

"I don't recall saying that. But in nineteen seventy-six it would have been good advice. You can see that, can't you?"

"Based on your advice, Larry convinced Anne Michaels to perjure herself at trial and say that Pete Michaels was her secret fiancé."

He looked from Lydia to me and back again. He even looked at Karen. He was stalling. Trying to decide what he should say. Finally, "I never met with that girl before the trial. I had no idea what she'd say."

"And you didn't have an investigator available?"

"No, I've said that already."

"You're claiming you weren't aware Larry had convinced Anne to lie?"

"I don't recall. It's a twenty-year-old case."

"Are you saying you might have known?"

"I couldn't have known. That would be suborning perjury."

"Debatable. She wasn't your witness. Though, if you'd known you'd have had a duty to impeach her testimony."

He was silent again.

"Anne Whittemore is recanting her testimony. She remembers Larry telling her she should tell everyone she was Pete's fiancée. Larry remembers you telling him not to say he was gay in court."

"Outside of Larry's statements and possibly his friend Anne's, there's no evidence of his relationship with the victim. I would not have put that information into his file for fear that it would become discoverable to the prosecution. If I was aware of his sexuality, I would have viewed it as an even stronger motive than the love triangle the prosecution presented."

"Are you serious?" I asked, unable to help myself. "Their being in love is a stronger motive for murder?"

"In nineteen seventy-six, I think a jury would have seen it that way. I would not give that kind of advice today."

"I think we've explored that fully," Lydia said, pursing her lips in a way that told me she was not happy. I was pretty sure it was Harris she was unhappy with and not me. "Getting back to Andy Showalter, he testified that Larry asked him to get a gun at the beginning of September nineteen seventy-six, but Larry had already begun college in Santa Barbara. So he wouldn't have been in Downey. You didn't confront Showalter with this information. Was there a reason why?"

Harris explained, "Larry took a bus from Santa Barbara to Downey the day before Pete Michaels was killed. According to you, Showalter's recollection of when Larry asked him to get the gun was the beginning of September. Larry could easily have come down on the bus at any point and returned at any point. There wouldn't have been any record of that. The DA would have sliced and diced me."

"But he couldn't prove that Larry was in the area when Andy said he was, could he?"

"I didn't know that, though. For all I knew the DA could prove he was there. Certainly, Andy Showalter was saying he was."

"And then you put Larry's mother on the stand."

"She was a character witness. She was adamant that she be allowed to testify on her son's behalf."

"You didn't ask any questions about whether Larry was at home early in September."

"He could have stayed somewhere else."

"Yes, but it was your job to create doubt. You should have made the DA prove Larry was there to ask Andy to get him a gun."

"Hindsight—"

"And then you allowed his mother to testify to his relationship with Anne Michaels. She thought they made an adorable couple. She was so proud of him."

"I didn't allow that. The DA gets to cross examine?—"

"Which is why she shouldn't have been on the stand. She did more harm than good."

"Yes. I understood that then. I understand it now. But what would you like me to have done? I couldn't tell her to lie."

"You could have kept her off the stand."

"I barely had any defense at all."

"You could have called Bernie Carrier."

"I don't know who that is."

"He was Pete Michaels' tennis coach. He'd been having a sexual relationship with the boy. One which Pete may have threatened to expose."

"How would I know anything about that? Larry never mentioned it."

"Larry didn't know. My investigator learned of it by talking with the boys on the tennis team. Did you look for other possible murderers, at all?"

"I didn't have the luxury of a full-time investigator."

"If you're saying that you couldn't properly investigate Larry's case because your office wouldn't give you an investigator, then that is clearly ineffective assistance of counsel."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave. I told you I wouldn't be able to stay long."

He got up and walked out of our office.