Follow the Money

15


Dan Kelly told a damned good story, but it was inconceivable to me that Garrett Andersen had never tracked him down. It was also inconceivable that Garrett Andersen would agree to meet with me. But I was surprised on both accounts.

The lobby of Andersen, Simpson & Sanders was decorated with rare books, displayed open-faced and under glass. With the dark wood and dark leather furniture, it felt like a museum. I waited in front of an original 1884 fascicle of the Oxford English Dictionary. I was staring at the open page and the definition of pettifogger when the secretary came and got me.

She led me through a back hallway and then leaned into a doorway. “Mr. Olson is here,” she said. I could hear a response I couldn’t make out. Then she turned and waved me in.

The corner office was huge, with floor to ceiling windows providing a panoramic view of the Hollywood hills and the ocean. Garrett Andersen stood and came around from behind his large desk to shake my hand.

“Mr. Olson, good to meet you.” His voice was surprisingly deep, his handshake firm, and he filled his tailored suit with a large, muscular frame. His bio made him fifty-seven years old, but he looked a decade younger. He offered me a seat and returned to the chair behind his desk.

“So,” he began, “Senator James Steele, the case that won’t die.” He reclined and laced his fingers behind his head. “I’m not sure what I can tell you that isn’t in the file. After all, it’s been a long time.” He laughed a little and added, “Frankly, most lawyers don’t make it a practice of meeting with someone accusing them of ineffective assistance of counsel. But I was so damned surprised you called, I couldn’t resist seeing who you were.”

“Well, thanks for agreeing to see me.” I wasn’t really sure what to say. He smiled at me and waited. I pulled a legal pad from my briefcase and flipped through it, searching for confidence more than a question.

Finally, I said, “We’re trying to find out what was done to investigate Matt Bishop.”

Andersen scowled, “Is that the boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Not much, as I recall. There really wasn’t much to investigate.”

“We can’t find any record of you ever talking to Matt.”

“I probably didn’t.” He said it like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would talk to Matt.

I was surprised by his answer. I had expected some kind of explanation, but he offered none. “Did you talk to Matt’s family?”

“I don’t remember talking to them.”

“But that was the senator’s alibi. You didn’t even talk to these people?”

Andersen smiled and cocked his head sideways. “How old are you?”

“Excuse me?” He repeated the question slowly, emphasizing each word.

“Twenty-four.”

He leaned forward on his desk, hunching his powerful shoulders toward me, looking me right in the eye. “I’ve been practicing law for more than thirty years, and I’m damned sure not going to sit here and defend myself or my actions from the accusations of someone like you. When you’ve actually done this a few years, you learn to spot bullshit from a mile away. I didn’t talk to these people because there was nothing to talk to them about. Have you read the police report?”

I nodded.

“Did you go out and talk to the Bishops?”

I nodded again.

“Did they say anything different from the police report?”

I just sat there.

“They didn’t, did they?” I didn’t respond. Andersen leaned back again, smiling, letting his words settle in the air. “Maybe after you’ve been in practice awhile, you’ll learn not to waste your time.”

I stared past him, through the window, trying to gather my thoughts. He wasn’t impatient, he just sat there waiting. When I looked at him again, I asked, “But what if they’re lying?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “So what if they are? How does that change things? I’ll let you in on a little secret, Mr. Olson.” He said my name like it was a joke. Then he pointed at me for emphasis. “People will look you right in the eye and lie to you.”

Not much of a secret, I thought. It was the same thing Jendrek had said. “But what if you could prove they were lying.”

Andersen almost laughed at the suggestion. “You’ll never prove they’re lying.”

“Did you ever talk to Dan Kelly?”

“I doubt it.”

“Dan Kelly is a friend of Matt Bishop’s. He was with Matt the night of the murder.” My voice was rising. I was arguing with him now and that wasn’t what I’d come to do, but I couldn’t help myself. “He says Matt wasn’t at home that night. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”

“No,” he said, “and I wouldn’t care to know it either because it doesn’t prove anything. But I’m not going to engage you in an argument about a case I washed my hands of a dozen years ago. You do what you need to do, Mr. Olson. You do whatever you think is right.”

“You can count on that, Mr. Andersen.”

“I don’t mean to get you all a twitter.” He laughed, “But you’re too involved, son. You’ve got a client who was found covered with blood in the house with his dead wife. That’s a hard one to get out of, no matter what kind of evidence you’ve got. Add to that the fact that Steele didn’t have any money of his own, and you might begin to understand why I wasn’t eager to hire a team of investigators to scour the countryside based on an alibi that no one in their right mind would believe. I suggest you take a few steps back and look at the forest, son, before one of these trees falls and crushes you.”

There it was, I thought. He didn’t find Dan Kelly because he was trying to save money. “Don’t worry about me, Garrett, I’ll be just fine.”

Our eyes met for an instant before the phone on his desk buzzed. “Mr. Rollins is here to see you,” his secretary said.

Andersen pressed the button and stood. “Tell him I’ll be right out. I think Mr. Olson and I are finished.”

I left Andersen in his office and found my way back to the lobby. There was a bald man with a moustache sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs, flipping through a magazine. As I passed him, our eyes met and an odd sense of recognition came over me. He seemed familiar, but again I couldn’t place him.

I shook it off and made my way to the elevator and then my car. I was fuming. I wanted to rub Andersen’s face in his own mistakes. I was determined to show the arrogant son of a bitch he wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.