Not one of them would cooperate with us.
Two of the girls who had originally given statements to Masters had recanted. Girls who had talked to him but refused to give statements were now telling him they had nothing to say. All that was left were the two girls who had originally made the complaint, Alice Dickson and Rosalie Harbin. Both were now nineteen years old. Alice, the girl who’d kept a very detailed diary, was shy and backwards, and I was worried about how she’d do on the witness stand. Rosalie Harbin was a wild child who’d recently been arrested for forgery and theft. And the man who was about to walk through my door, William Trent’s lawyer, knew I was in trouble. He’d called a week earlier to set up an appointment with me. I didn’t have to ask what he wanted—he’d be looking to make a deal.
Snodgrass’s appearance surprised me, to say the least. I was expecting a refined, smooth-talking pretty boy, but what oozed through the doorway was a gargantuan man who seemed to fill the entire room. Snodgrass was at least six feet, seven inches tall and three hundred and fifty pounds. His face reminded me of a Chinese sharpei’s, with rolls of fat across the forehead, sagging jowls, and a flat, wide nose. He looked to be around fifty, with a greasy shock of wavy black hair that fell to his collar. Peering at me from behind thick glasses were small brown eyes that didn’t seem to fit his face. The white shirt he wore beneath a dark gray blazer looked like he’d been wearing it for a week.
“Have a seat,” I said after I introduced myself and shook his moist, fleshy hand. Small droplets of sweat had formed on his pink forehead, and I could hear him wheezing slightly. The effort of moving all that mass from the parking lot into the building and up the elevator to my office must have been almost more than his cardiovascular system could bear.
“Are you all right?” I asked as he dabbed his forehead with a stained white kerchief.
“Goddamned cigarettes are going to kill me,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, with just a hint of a Southern accent. “The wife’s been nagging me to quit for years, but I don’t pay any attention to her. I like to smoke. Son of a bitch, it’s hot in here! Don’t you people have any goddamned air-conditioning?”
“Feels fine to me,” I said.
“You must be descended from the goddamned Nordics. You must have a layer of blubber on you that keeps you warm all the time.”
I smiled at him, wondering how this blob of vulgarity had managed to build such a fine reputation and to get himself elected to two of the highest state and national offices in the field of criminal defense.
“What brings you all the way up here this morning, Mr. Snodgrass?”
He glared at me with his little eyes and kept dabbing his forehead with the handkerchief.
“You know goddamned good and well what brings me up here,” he said. “We’ve got a trial in two weeks, and both of us know that you don’t have a fucking leg to stand on, legal or otherwise. So let’s cut the bullshit and dispose of the matter this morning. It’ll save the state some money and save you and your office some much-deserved embarrassment.”
His tone was belligerent, his demeanor that of a wolverine rousted from sleep, and an air of superiority surrounded him along with the smell of stale cigarette smoke. I kept the smile fixed to my face and leaned forward on my elbows.
“I’ll bet you scare the hell out of the young guys, don’t you?” I said.
“You only have three witnesses on your list,” he said. “Two of them are tramps and the other is Barney Fife. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to them on the witness stand, Dillard? I’ll filet them like halibut. You don’t have a speck of physical evidence to corroborate anything they say. And my client had an impeccable reputation until your wonder boy with a badge ruined it. I’m thinking seriously of filing a civil suit against him and his
Two of the girls who had originally given statements to Masters had recanted. Girls who had talked to him but refused to give statements were now telling him they had nothing to say. All that was left were the two girls who had originally made the complaint, Alice Dickson and Rosalie Harbin. Both were now nineteen years old. Alice, the girl who’d kept a very detailed diary, was shy and backwards, and I was worried about how she’d do on the witness stand. Rosalie Harbin was a wild child who’d recently been arrested for forgery and theft. And the man who was about to walk through my door, William Trent’s lawyer, knew I was in trouble. He’d called a week earlier to set up an appointment with me. I didn’t have to ask what he wanted—he’d be looking to make a deal.
Snodgrass’s appearance surprised me, to say the least. I was expecting a refined, smooth-talking pretty boy, but what oozed through the doorway was a gargantuan man who seemed to fill the entire room. Snodgrass was at least six feet, seven inches tall and three hundred and fifty pounds. His face reminded me of a Chinese sharpei’s, with rolls of fat across the forehead, sagging jowls, and a flat, wide nose. He looked to be around fifty, with a greasy shock of wavy black hair that fell to his collar. Peering at me from behind thick glasses were small brown eyes that didn’t seem to fit his face. The white shirt he wore beneath a dark gray blazer looked like he’d been wearing it for a week.
“Have a seat,” I said after I introduced myself and shook his moist, fleshy hand. Small droplets of sweat had formed on his pink forehead, and I could hear him wheezing slightly. The effort of moving all that mass from the parking lot into the building and up the elevator to my office must have been almost more than his cardiovascular system could bear.
“Are you all right?” I asked as he dabbed his forehead with a stained white kerchief.
“Goddamned cigarettes are going to kill me,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, with just a hint of a Southern accent. “The wife’s been nagging me to quit for years, but I don’t pay any attention to her. I like to smoke. Son of a bitch, it’s hot in here! Don’t you people have any goddamned air-conditioning?”
“Feels fine to me,” I said.
“You must be descended from the goddamned Nordics. You must have a layer of blubber on you that keeps you warm all the time.”
I smiled at him, wondering how this blob of vulgarity had managed to build such a fine reputation and to get himself elected to two of the highest state and national offices in the field of criminal defense.
“What brings you all the way up here this morning, Mr. Snodgrass?”
He glared at me with his little eyes and kept dabbing his forehead with the handkerchief.
“You know goddamned good and well what brings me up here,” he said. “We’ve got a trial in two weeks, and both of us know that you don’t have a fucking leg to stand on, legal or otherwise. So let’s cut the bullshit and dispose of the matter this morning. It’ll save the state some money and save you and your office some much-deserved embarrassment.”
His tone was belligerent, his demeanor that of a wolverine rousted from sleep, and an air of superiority surrounded him along with the smell of stale cigarette smoke. I kept the smile fixed to my face and leaned forward on my elbows.
“I’ll bet you scare the hell out of the young guys, don’t you?” I said.
“You only have three witnesses on your list,” he said. “Two of them are tramps and the other is Barney Fife. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to them on the witness stand, Dillard? I’ll filet them like halibut. You don’t have a speck of physical evidence to corroborate anything they say. And my client had an impeccable reputation until your wonder boy with a badge ruined it. I’m thinking seriously of filing a civil suit against him and his
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