But, of course, civilization is only a headline away. The hotel carries the Jersey Shore edition of the Inquirer, so I couldn’t escape the aftermath of the Hanson case. The initial press reports damned and derided me. Half the accounts accused me of using my own wife in a scheme to dupe the judge and prosecutor. The other half painted me the fool. Depending on which reporter you followed, I was either a cuckold or the most calculating son of a bitch ever to practice law, and Piper was either an unfaithful wife or a perjurer.
It was all too much for Thatcher Gray. The day after Piper and I left for the beach, Sir Thatcher ordered his wife, Helen, to pack their bags, and they took a late-night flight to London. Helen called to tell us that Thatcher was nursing his rage at their hotel bar.
The reportage on Devlin has followed an interesting arc. Early articles skewered him for letting a millionaire off the hook. But Devlin went on the offensive, making appearances on all the local TV stations. He had two themes. The first: the moral high road. He recognized that his decision was politically unpopular. “But,” he was quoted as saying, “I cannot claim to apply the laws evenly regardless of social status and then send an innocent man to prison simply because he’s wealthy.” And that led into Devlin’s second theme: David Hanson was innocent. Devlin espoused the view that Jennifer Yamura was likely murdered during a burglary gone bad, the killer having gained entry to her house through an unlocked door. It must have galled Devlin to declare David innocent, convinced as he is of David’s guilt. But it’s the road he has to take.
Devlin’s new spin was manna from heaven for David Hanson. It sent the message that David hadn’t gone free due to high-priced legal trickery but because he deserved it. Like Devlin, David Hanson was making the TV news circuit. The Inquirer quoted an interview on Channel Six’s Sunday-morning news magazine. Anchorman Jim asked David whether he intended to bring a wrongful-prosecution case. David said no. “The city is financially strapped as it is. And my mission isn’t to take—it’s to bring money to the citizens and taxpayers of this town by cementing the business relationships that will pull jobs into our region.”
Now David is well placed to complete those Asian deals, having been grudgingly reinstated by Edwin at Hanson World Industries and promoted to president of HWI-Asia.
It’s Monday, and I’m back at the office now, refreshed and renewed by my time at the shore with Piper and Gabby, hoping I’m strong enough to face the ordeal ahead: the “accounting” I promised David Hanson. He’s been waiting in the conference room for thirty minutes. I had Angie park him there because I can’t abide his presence in my personal office. I’ve had him wait so long because . . . well, because I want to make him wait.
When finally I enter the conference room and close the door, David looks up at me. I can see his mind spinning, trying to figure out how to play his part so that the scene between us resolves to his advantage. Should he be contrite, beg my forgiveness? Or go on the offensive, use whatever ammunition Piper had given him to justify her betrayal? He elects to open with a question.
“Why did Devlin fold like he did?”
“You heard him. He believed Piper was telling the truth.”
“He could have cross-examined her in open court. Let the jury decide.”
I shrug. “He was convinced you’re innocent.”
David studies me for a minute. “Marcie thinks there’s more to it.”
I shrug. “Occam’s razor. Sometimes the simplest explanation is the truth.” I hold David’s gaze as I lift a water bottle from the silver tray on the table, open it, take a sip. “So, why did you do it?”
David looks away, but only for a second. “It began by chance. Piper and I ran into each other at the mall and . . .”
I put my hand up to stop him. “Not that. I know why you did that. You’re a self-serving narcissist who can’t keep your dick in your pants. No, what I want to know, now that you can never be retried for it, is why you murdered Jennifer Yamura.”
David stares at me. I can feel the heat rising in him. He leans ever so slightly into the table, toward me. “I didn’t kill her, Mick.”
“Did Jennifer really threaten to tell Marcie,” I ask, “like her brother said? I know Tredesco put him up to saying that on the stand. But did it really happen? Did you see the scandal of it playing out in the newspapers? Were you terrified Marcie would leave you, take the boys and a bunch of your money? Or was it that you’d never get to the top at HWI?”
“I did not kill Jennifer,” David repeats, a little more strain in his voice.
“And here’s another question. What were you doing between 11:50, when you left your office, and 1:45, when you showed up at Jennifer’s house?”
“Piper asked me to come to the hotel in the afternoon. It was a nice day, though, and I wanted to leave the office earlier. I knew the arts festival was happening on Rittenhouse Square, so I decided to take it in. I did just that. And in answer to your next question, no, there’s no one who can vouch for me being there.”
I snort. “I don’t buy it. My guess is you paid a visit to another special friend. Jennifer and Piper weren’t enough for you. You had a third one in the mix. You really are a piece of—”
“Enough,” David interrupts. “What am I here for? Because it’s sure as hell not to take shit from you.”
“You have quite a temper,” I say. “I never picked up on it when we were in law school. Then again, everything was going so swimmingly for you back then. You were surrounded by friends—admirers, really. Kevin Kratz got you on the Law Review, then abdicated the editor-in-chief position to you. You were getting laid left and right. You were the star of the show.”
“You have no idea of the pressures I was under, then or since. The expectations placed on me . . .” David’s voice trails off, and we sit in silence for a moment. “Just send me the bill. I’ll pay it as soon as I open the envelope.”
I pin him with my stare. “Yes, you will pay. I also told you there’d be an accounting between us.” I pull the DVD from my desk drawer, set it on the table.
David knows where I’m headed. “You don’t dare leak that,” he says, “or Piper will go to prison for perjury.”
I smile. “Oh, I doubt that. She has a good attorney. He could probably get her off. He found a way to keep you out of jail, and you’re a murderer.”
“Fuck you.” David sighs. “What’s your endgame here?”
“I just want you to pay your legal bill. And to show a little gratitude for the exceptional job that I’ve done, I think a five-million-dollar bonus would do it.”
“That’s highway robbery!”
“No, that’s blackmail. You should recognize it; we’ve both been down this road before.”
This would be the perfect time for me to disclose to David that Anna Groszek had demanded only $3 million, and not the $4 million I’d made David come up with. But I hold my tongue.
David glares, perhaps seeing this side of me for the first time.