"If you are? I am, too." He glanced around. "Where's your camera?"
I dug it out of the equipment bag, turned it on, and flipped through until the viewer showed the photo I wanted. The best shot of the guy who'd presumably killed Drew Aldrich. Then I turned back to my laptop. The black-and-white photo was grainy, the scanned resolution less than ideal, but there was little doubt of what we were seeing. A photograph of Aldrich's killer . . . in an article on Aldrich's court case.
It was a group shot. Three men, one woman. Two of the men strode along in front. Older men, in their forties or fifties. The other two--a guy and a woman--looked in their early twenties and hung back. All four were dressed in suits and carried briefcases.
My gaze dropped to the caption under the picture: "The defense team arrives at the courthouse."
Aldrich's killer had been part of his defense team. Did that make any sense? No. Add the fact that the guy had been driving a car rented by the Contrapasso Fellowship, and I was completely flummoxed.
"Makes no fucking sense," Jack said. "Aldrich spots you. Calls his old lawyer. Could see that. Long time, but whatever. Except he's not Drew Aldrich anymore. And this guy? A Canadian lawyer? Shows up within hours. Acts like they're old friends. Kills him. Pins the crime on him. The crime he helped get him off of. What the fuck?"
"I can see some logic in the last part," I said. "Maybe he felt guilty, having played a role in letting a killer walk?"
"Fucking lot to lose if he's caught. Considering he killed him."
"There's the rub. And the Contrapasso connection doesn't fit at all."
"Unless Evelyn's wrong about that."
"Maybe." I saved the photo from the article. "No sense trying to figure it out until we have more information."
I searched for details on Aldrich's defense. Finally, I discovered that he'd been represented by Ellis, Silva, and Webb, which surprised the hell out of me. It was one of the top defense firms in Toronto. How had a guy like Aldrich gotten them? I'd have to ask Neil about that.
Lawrence Webb had been Aldrich's main lawyer--he was one of the older two guys in the photo. So not only had Aldrich hired a top firm, but a founding partner led his team. No wonder he'd gotten off.
I dug deeper for the names of the other attorneys. I got the second older guy--a partner. But even going over the firm's website photos, I found no sign of the mystery man. He could have been an expert witness, a private eye, or just a guy in a suit walking near Aldrich's lawyers.
"I'm going to send this to Neil, see if he remembers who he was."
I e-mailed the photo to Neil and called to explain.
"He was part of the defense team," Neil said. "I remember seeing him at their table. Can't recall his name, though. Him and the girl were interns, if I remember right. They took notes and fetched for the big guys."
"And they were big guys," I said. "Ellis, Silva, and Webb? Shit."
"You didn't know they represented Aldrich? Strike one against us."
"How did Aldrich get them?"
"Pro bono. Someone apparently convinced them it would be good for PR. Hapless kid railroaded by small-town cops. Big-city firm swoops in to the rescue. It happens. Just our piss-poor luck that it happened here."
"Do you remember anything about the young defense lawyer?"
"Mmm, no. I remember the woman. You didn't see a lot of them in those days. She seemed to be there to handle the parts about Amy. The character attacks. They must have figured they'd seem less hostile and more believable coming from an attractive young woman, rather than a middle-aged lawyer. They also had her dealing with Aldrich."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Obvious ploy. Get the cute girl to handle the accused, the message being that if she wasn't afraid of him, clearly he wasn't a murdering rapist. The problem was that Aldrich didn't respond. He was polite, but there wasn't any flirtation. He just didn't reciprocate."
"She needed to be about ten years younger for that to work."
Neil gave an awkward laugh. "Yeah, I guess so."
"So when the intern girl didn't work out, did they try the guy? See if Aldrich got along better with him?"
"Nah. It wouldn't have had any impact, and there wasn't friction with the girl, so they left her as his handler. The guy was pretty much a nonentity, from what I remember. But let me make a few calls. Someone's sure to remember him."
The next morning we went for an early jog. Kind of. It was a process of negotiation. I agreed I'd sleep until seven. Jack agreed he'd get up at seven. Then he drove me to the country, let me off, parked down the road, and leaned against the car, waiting until I caught up, before repeating the process.