Chapter 46

Irving isn’t letting grass grow under his feet—or under ours. We’d been here exactly two days when he called with Hugo’s first assignment. We hadn’t even had time to get a land-line in, he called on my cell.

This one was pretty simple. He was having his third meeting with a new client the next morning, and wanted Hugo to verify his hunch that the client was lying his ass off. The man was accused of eight counts of stock fraud, and he was coming up with all sorts of off-the-wall explanations for why he thought what he’d been doing was completely legal and lots and lots of finagles to show how it really was legal.

I drove Hugo, of course, and Irving told me to sit in too; he wants me to get back into the swing as fast as I can, and this was one of his not-too-subtle pushes. So the three of us sat there while this guy spun his tale, and then we left him for a minute and went to the office next door for Hugo’s take.

The guy was a liar, all right. Irving had got him to talk a bunch, and Hugo could pick out the lies one by one. Not that it was really necessary, Irving had seen right through him and so even had I, rusty—and credulous—as I am. But Hugo added a few fine points that neither of us had noticed, and it was a really useful session.

We were still unpacking when Irving called again, this time on our brand new home phone. It was a little different; he was due to cross the complaining witness in a fairly dubious commercial theft case and wanted Hugo to listen to the direct.

So we spent most of the morning in the courtroom as spectators. This one, too, was playing fast and loose with the truth, and Hugo was able to pinpoint the lies so Irving could pull the whole story apart in that courteous smooth way of his and tear the woman a new asshole right there on the stand. Irving had us stay for the cross, it was really fun.

The thing that was really impressive to me was that Hugo did the whole thing out of his head both times. He can write now; his handwriting’s something of a scrawl, but it’s legible and he’s pretty quick with it, and I’d suggested he might want to take some notes. But he just stuffed everything into some filing cabinet inside his head and pulled it right out, point by point, later. The man’s memory is a marvel.

It’s the third time around that we’re finding out what a really formidable weapon Hugo can be.

This one started off fairly simply. The case was a really nasty one, a guy who’d taken his wife out to a lovely river park and then politely pushed her into the rapids. He denied it, of course, kept saying she fell and he’d tried to save her. But he had tell-tale scratches on his face, a waist-high railing guarded against accidental falls, there was a lot of money involved, and the dummy came to us only after the cops had conned him into a lie-detector test, which he failed miserably.

We weren’t going to get him off, but Irving was working on a plea-bargain to manslaughter one which would at least keep his prison time manageable. The prosecution was willing to listen, but they figured there was another woman and they wanted to hear from her before they settled.

Trouble is, our dummy clammed up. He was absolutely adamant about denying he had a popsie, even after Irving said the prosecutors only wanted to talk, that she couldn’t be charged with anything because she wasn’t there. Of course that was a stretcher, accessory was always a possibility, but the guy wouldn’t budge anyway. Irving was pretty sure he was lying, but he needed Hugo for confirmation.

I went over all this with Hugo on the way in, just so he’d know what it was about. The guy’s out on bail for the moment, so we’d see him in the office.

This morning we spent most of an hour going round and round, Irving really pressing about the popsie and the client—his name’s Terry Briscoe—denying it more and more vigorously. At one point Terry even threatened to fire us and walk out if we didn’t leave it alone. So Irving leaves Terry for a “short consultation” and takes Hugo and me to another office for a sit-down.

“Well?” he asks Hugo.

“You are right that he has other one he loves,” Hugo tells him. Irving nods and begins to rise, but Hugo stops him. “Wait please, is much more.”

Irving’s heard that one before. He sits back down. “Oh, shit, all right, give us the rest of the bad news.”

“I think may not be bad,” says Hugo. “You never ask today does he kill his wife.”

“It’s not a question a good lawyer asks,” Irving explains tactfully. “Anyhow, in this case we don’t have to ask, he’s already volunteered for a lie-detector test and failed it.”

“This is machine such as you use before, with wires and all yes-no?”

Irving nods. “That’s the one. It said he was lying his ass off.”

Hugo says the one thing we never expected. “I think machine is wrong. There is much confusion, but I think he does not make this crime.”

Irving and I look at each other in astonishment. “Are you sure, Hugo?” I say at last.

“I cannot be sure because Irving does not ask this,” he tells me. “But he has not manner of one who has killed. He thinks he will be punished for what he does not do. This is very strong in him, do you not see anything?”

We’ve both been going on the assumption he’s guilty. But I’m having big second thoughts now, and even Irving is showing some doubt.

“Will you allow that I speak with this man, Terry?” Hugo asks Irving. “I will know with certainty then, and perhaps I may persuade him to say to me what he will not to you.”

Irving gives me a long look. “Go for it, Irving,” I say firmly. “You know how well Hugo reads people.”

“All right,” he finally consents. “But I’m going to stop it if it gets ugly. I don’t want to know more than I need to know, and neither do you, Linda.”

He means a defense lawyer should never ask exploratory questions about whether the client is guilty. If you go into court proclaiming that a client’s as innocent as a newborn babe when he’s already told you in private he did it, you cross a line that should never be crossed; you’re no longer an advocate, you’re an accomplice.

We troop back in to where the client’s fidgeting morosely in his chair. As soon as we sit down Hugo begins.

“Terry, I am Hugo Calvalli. Please excuse that I do not use English completely right. I will also tell you that I am not lawyer, I am ... consultant. You need not speak with me, but I believe I may help you if you will do.”

The client shakes his head. “Why not, what have I got to lose?” he says.

“I ask you now, do you kill your wife? Do you push her or throw her in water?” That’s pretty direct—a lot too direct for Irving’s taste—and I can see he’s about to call a halt right now but the client beats him to the punch.

“No!” he all but yells. “She fell in just like I’ve been telling everyone all along, but nobody fucking believes me! Even that goddamned machine didn’t believe me.”