Chapter 7
"What's the Assistant DA doing in there?" Jarrod asked as the sheriff closed the cell block door. Jarrod could hear Archer yelling.
"I tried not to do it, but yesterday I had to haul him in," Sheriff Madden said. "A complaint's been filed against him."
"For what?"
"Do you remember Allen Henderson at all?"
Jarrod shook his head. "No."
"He owns a sizable spread on the way to Placerville," the sheriff said. "Last year Archer prosecuted him for selling stolen horses, but Henderson was acquitted and he was hopping mad. Now, Henderson is claiming Archer assaulted his 15-year-old daughter. I thought it was a bunch of garbage, but Henderson is bent on pursuing it, and when I questioned his daughter yesterday, she was pretty darned credible. Henderson had been at me for almost a week about it. When I talked to his daughter, I couldn't downplay the charge anymore. What did you want to talk to Archer about?"
"Maybe this," Jarrod said. "He came to the house last week but he didn't say what he wanted. Though why he'd want me about this, I don't know. I'm just here to get him out of my mother's hair."
"You want to talk to him?"
"I'd better see what he has to say."
The sheriff opened the cell block door again, and Jarrod went in.
Archer was on his feet at his cell door, gripping the bars like his life depended on it. Jarrod walked closer to him but still stayed out of his reach, reading some body language he didn't like. "Mr. Archer," Jarrod said. "I understand you came to my home, wanting to see me."
"I need your help, Jarrod," Archer said, sounding half desperate, half angry.
"I don't know how I can help you," Jarrod said. "I'm sure you know I've been gone for more than a year, and my memory is damaged, so I don't have any memory of you at all."
"I know that," Archer said.
"Then you also know I can't practice law."
"That's not why I need you. Mike Quinn is going to defend me, but he doesn't have the time or the staff to investigate for me."
"That's what you want me for? To investigate the charge against you? The sheriff can do that."
"But he can't keep confidential what I tell him. You're still admitted to the bar. You're still bound by the confidentiality rules. You can investigate for me and still keep what I tell you confidential."
Jarrod heaved a sigh and leaned back against the bars of the cell on the other side of the block. "All right, let's say I take your case. I'll have to charge you the same as Mike Quinn does. That's not a very good use of your funds."
"I'm desperate, Jarrod! They have me in here on a rape charge, for God's sake!"
"All right, all right," Jarrod said, trying to calm him down.
Archer slumped, struggling to get himself together. "I know you don't remember how we actually were friends in law school. I know you don't know what happened and how that friendship went bad, and I'm sorry about all of it, about your memory, about what happened to our friendship, all of it. And I know I'm asking a lot, but please, work with Mike Quinn on this. Help me get the truth out."
"Did you rape that girl?" Jarrod asked straight out.
"No! I didn't touch her! I've never even been alone with her!"
"Are there any witnesses to support your side of the story?"
"Not that I know of, that's the problem. She's claiming I pulled her into an alley, we were alone together, but it's not true. Talk to Mike Quinn. He'll tell you everything I've told him. Don't turn me down until you talk to him."
Jarrod hesitated, hearing his mother's advice to think hard before he agreed to help, but he thought just talking to Mike Quinn couldn't hurt. "All right. I'll talk to Quinn and get back to you."
Jarrod turned to go out. Archer said, "Thank you, Jarrod. I know I don't deserve your help, but thank you."
Jarrod looked back at him. "Oily" was the word Quinn had used to describe him, and Jarrod decided it was fitting. Maybe he'd be better off just turning him down right now, but somehow, Jarrod couldn't do that. He just nodded and banged on the cell block door.
Sheriff Madden let him out, and as he closed the door again, he asked, "Are you going to help him, Jarrod?"
"I don't know," Jarrod said. "I can't be his lawyer, but he's got Michael Quinn to do that. Archer wants me to help investigate his side of the story. I'll have to talk to Quinn before I decide, and then I'll probably want to talk to you, if I agree to help him." Then he thought about something. "Tell me, Fred – do you have any idea what happened between Archer and me? I mean, I know he hates me for some reason, but of course, I can't remember why."
"I don't know," the sheriff said. "I never knew. I don't think Archer ever told anybody what he had against you, but chances are it was some overblown something, or maybe it was just because he's the type of man who has to hate somebody."
"Can you point me to Michael Quinn's office?"
For some reason, the sheriff smiled. "Look for the shingle on the left side of the street, before you come to the courthouse."
Jarrod nodded. "I'll see you later, Fred," he said and went out.
XXXXXXX
A few minutes later, Jarrod was waiting in the outer area of Quinn's office, looking idly at the artwork and diplomas on the wall while Quinn's secretary went into the inner office to get him. It was only a moment before she came back out, Quinn right behind her.
Quinn held his hand out. "Good to see you again, Jarrod."
"Michael," Jarrod said and shook the man's hand.
"Come on in."
Quinn ushered Jarrod into his inner office. Jarrod stood a few feet inside the door as Quinn closed it and then headed for his chair behind his desk. It was a handsome office, wood paneled, with a large window overlooking the street one floor below.
"Like my office?" Quinn asked as he sat down and motioned for Jarrod to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Very nice," Jarrod said idly and sat down.
"It was yours."
Jarrod nearly jumped. "Mine?"
Quinn nodded with a smile. "I took over the lease when you – well, when you went missing."
Jarrod looked around. He didn't remember a thing about the place. A big part of his life was spent here, and nothing here was familiar to him at all. Jarrod felt cheated for a moment, but he shook it off.
"It's closer to the courthouse than my old office was," Quinn said. "Now, what can I do for you?"
"Phil Archer," Jarrod said.
"Ah," Quinn said. "You've seen him."
"He came to the house, before he got arrested. I wasn't home, so I just now talked to him for a bit in the jail. He wants me to investigate his case with you. He knows I can't practice law, but apparently I had a good reputation for investigating my cases, and he figures I can at least do that and keep his confidences since I'm still admitted to the bar."
"What do you think?"
Jarrod chuckled self-consciously. "I don't know how great an investigator I could be under the circumstances, but Archer says you don't have the staff."
"I don't. And you were an excellent investigator. No reason you shouldn't still be. And the truth is, I could use your help as much as Archer could."
"What's his story, Michael? He says he was never alone with the girl, much less raped her."
"That's what he says. David Coleman is prosecuting the case – I know you don't remember him and probably haven't run into him since you've been back, but he's a good lawyer, and he does have a staff member who's a decent investigator."
"I don't remember what rules may apply while I'm investigating this, IF I investigate it."
"I'll keep you on the straight and narrow. For starters, I just need his alibis run down."
"When did this attack supposedly take place?"
"A week ago last Thursday, here in town. Henderson's daughter says Archer approached her on the street and coerced her into a back alley where he raped her."
"Somebody would have seen that."
"Nobody I've been able to turn up, but Archer says he wasn't there. He has an alibi for the time and place."
"What is it?"
Quinn heaved a sigh. "If you remembered him, it might sound pretty funny. In fact, it might sound pretty funny anyway, and it would actually BE funny if the situation weren't so serious."
"So, what is it?"
"Do you happen to remember what a Saxhorn is?"