Even the Wicked

I had done some work for Whitfield on Ray Gruliow's recommendation, running checks on witnesses and potential jurors, and I liked him well enough to hope to do more. It was a little late for him to be calling me on business, but the nature of the business is such that you get calls at all hours. I didn't mind the interruption, especially if it meant work. It had been a slow summer thus far. That wasn't all bad, Elaine and I had been able to get away for some long weekends in the country, but I was beginning to get rusty. The signs were there in the way I read the morning papers, obsessively interested in the local crime news and itching to get mixed up in it.

I took the phone in the kitchen and said, "Matthew Scudder,"

announcing myself to whoever had placed the call for him.

But he'd made it himself. "Matt," he said. "Adrian Whitfield. I hope I didn't get you at a bad time."

"I was watching two fellows hitting each other," I said. "Without much enthusiasm, on my part or theirs.

What can I do for you?"

"That's a good question. Tell me something, would you? How do I sound?"

"How do you sound?"

"My voice isn't shaky, is it?"

"No."

"I didn't think it was," he said, "but it ought to be. I got a phone call a little while ago."

"Oh?"

"From that idiot with the News, but perhaps I shouldn't call him that. For all I know he's a friend of yours."

I knew a few people at the Daily News. "Who?"

"Marty McGraw."

"Hardly a friend," I said. "I met him once or twice, but neither of us had much of a chance to make an impression on the other. I doubt he'd remember, and the only reason I remember is I've been reading his column twice a week for I don't know how many years."

"Isn't he in there three times a week?"

"Well, I don't usually read the News on Sundays."

"Got your hands full with the Times, I suppose."

"Full of ink, generally."

"Isn't that something? You'd think they could print the damned newspaper so it doesn't come off on your hands."

" 'If they can put a man on the moon…' "

"You said it. Can you believe there's a newsstand in Grand Central sells disposable white Pliofilm gloves

to wear while you read the damn thing?" He drew a breath. "Matt, I'm avoiding the point, and my guess is you already know what the point is."

I had a pretty good idea. "I suppose he got another of those letters.

From Will."

"From Will, yes. And the subject of that letter?"

"It would have to be one of your clients," I said, "but I wouldn't want to try to guess which one."

"Because they're all such estimable men?"

"I just wouldn't have a clue," I said. "I haven't followed your cases that closely, except for the couple I've worked on. And I don't know how Will's mind works, anyway."

"Oh, it's an interesting mind. I would say it works very well, certainly well enough for the purpose at hand." He paused, and I knew what he was going to say an instant before he said it. "He wasn't writing about one of my clients. He was writing about me."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, lots of things," he said. "I could read it to you."

"You've got the letter?"

"A copy of it. McGraw faxed it to me. He called me first, before he called the cops, and he faxed me a copy of the letter. That was actually damned considerate of him. I shouldn't have called him a jerk."

"You didn't."

"When I first brought his name up, I said—"

"You called him an idiot."

"You're right at that. Well, I don't suppose he's either one, or if he is he's a considerate specimen of the breed. You asked what Will said.

'An Open Letter to Adrian Whitfield.' Let's see. 'You have devoted your life to keeping guilty men out of prison.' Well, he's wrong about that.

They're all innocent until proven guilty, and whenever guilt was proved to the satisfaction of a jury, they went to prison. And stayed there, unless I could get a reversal on appeal. In another sense, of course, he's quite correct. Most of the men and women I've represented did what they were accused of doing, and I guess that's enough to make them guilty in the eyes of Will."

"What's his beef with you, exactly? Doesn't he think the accused are entitled to a defense?"

"Well, I don't want to read you the whole thing," he said, "and his position's hard to state with precision, but you could say he takes exception to the fact that I'm good at what I do."

"That's all?"

"If's funny," he said. "He doesn't even mention Richie Vollmer, and that's what got him started."

"That's right, you were Vollmer's attorney."

"I was indeed, and I got my share of hate mail when he managed to dodge the wheels of Justice, but there's nothing in here about my role in getting him off. Let's what he says. He says I put the police on trial, which is hardly unique on my part. Our mutual friend Gruliow does that all the time. It's often the best strategy with a minority defendant. He also says I put the victim on trial. I think he's talking about Naomi Tarloff.'

"Probably.'