Of Innocence and Alibis
Chapter 3 - Confessions
Knowing this couldn't be helped, Angel made his way up to Marcus Hamilton's office the next morning. An elevator ride and several deep breaths later, he announced his wish for an appointment to Stacy, Hamilton's secretary, and sat down to wait. Luckily, it wasn't more than a few minutes before the assistant called, "Mr. Hamilton will see you now."
Angel gave his thanks and steeled himself to exude confidence and purpose before opening his boss' door and stepping into the office. "Mr. Hamilton," he said briskly, announcing his presence.
"Ah, Mr. Angelus. Please, sit down," the man, who was less than ten years Angel's senior, but a ruthless son of a bitch who climbed the corporate and political ladders with the best of them, looked up with a false, tight smile. Shuffling a few papers back into their folders, Hamilton asked, "How can I help you?"
Taking the low chair that the man offered, Angel began right away, "I'm taking a criminal defense case. It might end up being pro bono, so I'll go on a leave of absence to spare the firm any expense."
Squaring his already angular jaw, Hamilton nodded, "I see. And what makes you think this is a good idea?"
"It's not," Angel replied, chuckling a little to lighten the mood, even though that never worked on Hamilton. "But I can't in good conscience refuse."
"Not even in bad conscience?" Hamilton asked, giving a false chuckle to match Angel's.
Playing along, Angel smiled and replied, "No, sir."
"Well," the man sighed, shuffling his papers again, "I will admit that you've got excellent timing. The last case we would have lobbed in your direction was just dropped." Nodding as if to himself, Hamilton decided, "I'll let you take this case, but I'm going to have to say, 'no,' to the leave of absence. I want to oversee your work, and be able to step in when I deem fit."
"That's really not necessary," Angel replied harshly, upset by Hamilton's implications and not wanting to subject Hamilton to a friend like Spike, who took the term 'dignified' and usually shit all over it.
In a no-nonsense tone of voice that would not be argued with, Hamilton insisted, "You're a member of this firm, Angelus. Unless you'd rather cut ties with us completely, I have to insist you let us be involved. I won't have you tarnishing our good name if this goes south."
Seeing no other options, Angel snarled, "Fine. I'll get you a copy of the case file and keep you apprised of any developments."
"Oh, I already have a copy," Hamilton replied, holding up the folder that had been sitting in front of him. "The case against your friend, William, is tenuous, but further evidence could put a kink in your arguments. Let me know as soon as you have a strategy."
Getting the distinct impression that he'd just been dismissed, Angel nodded once, trying to hide his indignant anger, before standing and leaving the office. How the hell had Hamilton known what he was up to? It was one thing watching his every move during the cases he was assigned, but now Hamilton was watching his private movements, too? Fucking hell!
Outside his much smaller office downstairs, Angel noticed Harmony, dumbly filing her nails like she hadn't a care in the world. Oh, he'd give her something to care about! As he passed her desk, Angel growled, "My office. Now!"
Pacing the room as he waited for Harmony to get off her lazy ass, Angel stewed about the implications of Hamilton's orders. He wouldn't have final say over this case. He might not be able to defend Spike to the best of his abilities if Hamilton stuck his nose into the case. The man was an excellent corporate attorney, but he had no clue how the criminal justice system really worked. Angel did. He'd proven himself at his last firm time and time again. Why couldn't Hamilton just get that stick out of his ass and trust that Angel knew what he was doing?
Finally, Harmony sauntered in, "What's up, Boss?"
"Close the door," he said quietly, one hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose again. Angel had a sinking feeling that this headache wouldn't fade until Spike's trial was over. Fucking fantastic.
When Harmony followed his orders, closing the door, she left one hand on knob, looking ready to make a hasty escape. Angel knew that the secretaries gossiped about him, about his tendencies to throw things and yell when he got upset, but he'd never seen Harmony afraid of him before. Taking a few deep breaths to calm down, Angel steadied his voice and asked, "Did you make a copy of the file Rosa sent me yesterday?"
"Yeah, sure," Harmony nodded, her confidence and easy smile coming back as Angel calmed down.
"Who did you give this copy to?"
"Oh," she replied, and Angel knew she'd done something he wouldn't like.
"Did you send it up to Mr. Hamilton?"
Simpering a little and pressing herself against the door like she might be able to melt into it, Harmony nodded and insisted, "It's orders, Angel. I always make copies for him."
Working very hard to stay calm and collected, Angel asked, "That control freak has gotten copies of all of my paperwork?"
"Uh-huh," Harmony agreed, watching him closely, probably convinced he would try something if she so much as blinked.
"Alright," Angel decided, knowing this dumb little girl wasn't to blame. "I just wish you'd told me, Harm."
"Is that it?" she asked, watching as Angel nodded carefully.
"That's it."
Angel watched as Harmony made her escape, taking another few breaths so he wouldn't do something stupid, like punch a wall. He should have known better than to trust anyone. Harmony included. Darla had taught him that lesson, and he'd been slowly forgetting it.
"Fuck," he muttered, throwing himself down into his chair and opening Spike's case file again.
Could he even trust Spike when the man said he was innocent? He had to know, so he picked up the phone and made an appointment.
Two hours later, he'd managed to get Spike into a conference room at the county penitentiary where they could talk. Sure, his friend would be chained to the table, but at least they could sit and have a conversation and Angel could look him in the eye.
"Hey, Ange," Spike said when the officer showed him in and locked him up, the process dimming his grin somewhat. Angel hated anything that dimmed that smile, no matter how much it resembled the one Darla had used to break his heart.
"Spike," Angel nodded, waiting for the officer to finish and leave them. "How was your night?"
"Fuckin' terrible," Spike replied. "Though I have to say, the food's not bad."
Angel nodded, shifting in his chair before confessing, "I talked to Darla. She's settling the bail and I should be able to get you out of here soon."
"Brilliant," Spike nodded gratefully.
"Make any friends?" Angel asked salaciously, chuckling when Spike blanched at the suggestion.
"Oh, ha ha, Angelus," the blonde replied, trying to sound angrily sarcastic, but a little bit of laughter colored his response, making Angel feel better about his friend's state of mind. The only time Spike wouldn't joke was … well, never. Even after Drusilla broke up with him two years ago, Spike had laughed away the pain, calling her a "right batty loon" and regaling Angel with tales of all the crazy things the girl had dragged him into whenever they got spectacularly drunk. As far as Angel knew, there hadn't been anyone serious in Spike's life since.
"Why are you in town, Spike?" Angel asked first and foremost. "Last I heard you were in Europe somewhere. Prague?"
"Prague was 'bout as exciting as a roomful of elderly librarians, Peaches. Just not the same without her, you know?"
Heart cringing at the sadness in Spike's voice over his ex, Angel mumbled, "I know." He'd gone through something similar after breaking up with Darla, unable to stand any of the sights or sounds of New York without her. It was one of the reasons he'd moved out here after law school. To be away from anything that reminded him of her. "But that doesn't explain why you're here. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"Thought I was just passing through, dinnit I?" Spike growled, defensively. "Made a little money after Europe, and I figured out West was just as good a place to bum around as anywhere."
"Well," Angel sighed, unsatisfied by Spike's explanation and deciding to just get down to business, "why don't you tell me what happened?"
"Last night?" Spike asked with a grin.
"No," Angel chuckled. "The night Riley Finn died." Flipping open his case file, Angel checked one of the forms before saying, "Saturday night."
"When was Saturday?" Spike asked, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to count the days and failing.
"Two nights before last," Angel reminded him, struggling to keep the indulgent smile from his face. Spike didn't need to know how much Angel missed spending time with the other man, so wrapped up in the next adventure that they lost track of hours and days and weeks. Those times were definitely over for Angel, though he felt himself almost comforted that Spike hadn't yet grown out of them.
"Two nights…" Spike breathed, trying to remember. "Oh! That was the night I stopped in that dance club. The one all the pretty young things like to go to." Thinking again, he snapped his fingers and cried, "The Bronze! That's the one. Ripe pickings there, mate."
"I'm sure," Angel replied, before asking, "When did you get there?"
"How'm I s'posed to know?" Spike asked, his voice colored with exasperation. "It was dark. Plenty of people there already. Prob'ly round ten? Eleven? Not sure."
Angel wrote this down on his yellow legal pad, nodding as he asked, "Were you there with anyone?"
"Was with everyone, mate," Spike grinned, eyes flashing with remembered mischief. "But I reckon you'd say I got there alone."
Writing this down, Angel steeled his voice into professionalism as best he could before asking, "Did you leave alone?"
Spike's cool smirk and sniff of disinterest belied the blush creeping around his neck as he tossed out, "Not as such."
"What does that mean?" Angel asked him, noticing how the blush spread the longer he watched the blonde. "If someone can verify your whereabouts, we could get these charges dropped right away."
"Doubt my alibi will check out under careful scrutiny."
"And why is that?" Angel asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "Who wouldn't want to admit to sharing your company?"
"Aw, that's sweet," Spike grinned, chuckling as Angel realized how his words could be taken. "Look, mate. I didn't know who they were when I left with 'em, yeah? Might not be here if I had."
"What are you talking about? Who are they?"
"You've got to understand," Spike insisted, holding his hands up defensively, "I was just sittin' there, chattin' up the birds at the bar. Got one in my sights, you know? Filly named Linda, curves all over and a cute smile. But then she makes her excuses to the bathroom, yeah? I figure I've lost her, might as well move on."
"Right," Angel agreed, feeling himself drawn into this story like he had been with so many in the past.
"So, I'm drinkin' my beer, watchin' all the pretty ducks dance, when I catch this bloke staring at me. I figure, what the hell, night's almost over and I need someplace to stay. Might as well go for the easy pull." Spike looked to Angel for some sort of acknowledgment, so Angel nodded, no stranger to his friend's questionable traveling habits.
Nodding in return, Spike continued, dropping his eyes down to his hands on the table, "So, I go talk to the bloke, get him all warmed up. Says his name's Charlie and he's glad I came over. Then, the bint from the bar shows up again, takin' Charlie's arm and I think, 'Oh, fuck. I'm gonna have to defend myself from an angry boyfriend.' But that's not how it goes, at all, mate."
"So," Angel asked, pretty sure he understood where this story was headed. "You went home with both of them?"
"Sure did," Spike confessed with a sheepish grin, his blush flaring back to life. "So, see? I've got an alibi. Just don't think young Charles Newhaven is gonna fess up to letting me fuck him and his girl."
"Newhaven?" Angel asked, his voice tight. "As in junior? The governor's son? The ultra-conservative Governor Newhaven who's all about family values?"
"Well, I didn't know that at the time, mate," Spike explained. "Though the empty ocean-side mansion they took me back to should have been a dead giveaway."
"Why," Angel asked, shaking his head in disbelief, "do you always have to get into these things with socialites? Can't you just make do with normal people? There's so much less drama that way."
"It's not on purpose," Spike insisted. "Just, habits tend to tell one out, yeah? As far as I try to remove myself from the life, the universe or somethin' just keeps forcing me that way. Or maybe I just get off on the drama," Spike smirked, chuckling at Angel's harsh look.
Sighing, Angel finished writing down Spike's story, asking, "Any idea what Linda's last name was?"
"No idea, mate," Spike shook his head. "But after they pulled me, girl took out this engagement ring with a massive rock and put it back on. Tricky little minx."
"If they're engaged, I'm sure I can find out," Angel decided. "I'm guessing they asked you to keep this quiet?"
"'Asked' is a little too friendly, mate," the blonde groaned, letting his face fall into his hands.
"They threatened you?" Angel brimmed with incredulousness, upset for his friend and how stupid he could be.
"Weren't like that, Ange," Spike insisted. "But there might have been … compensation for keepin' quiet."
"Spike!" Angel scolded, not realizing it was possible to feel more disappointed of the man than he had a few seconds previously.
"Well, I didn't know this was gonna turn into a big thing, now did I? Thought I'd just move on, you know? Head up north for a bit. Heard the bay area's nice this time of year."
"Shit," Angel sighed, going over his notes again. "I'm guessing it was cash, and the cops confiscated the money when they picked you up? Do you know what that's going to look like?"
"Like I'm a no good fuck-up as dear Darla always insists?"
"No, moron," Angel replied, shuffling his papers so he wouldn't hit Spike for being so stupid. "It's gonna look like you got paid to kill this Finn guy. How much did Newhaven give you?"
"Just a couple thou," Spike shrugged.
"For silence over one night?" Angel asked, again in disbelief and anger.
Spike shuffled in his seat and confessed, "Well, it might have been over the next morning, as well. And the rest of the day. And there's probably a hefty tip in there…"
"God," the lawyer groaned, trying not to be too disgusted. "You could have stayed with me. You didn't need to go looking for trouble as a place to sleep."
"Wasn't just looking for a place to hang my hat, mate," Spike insisted, looking Angel in the eye for just a moment. "You're not exactly the company I was looking for."
"I understand that," Angel nodded, having more than a few skeletons in his closet when it came to bedroom indiscretions. "But this? Whoring yourself out? You're better than that, Spike."
"And you'd know this because…"
"I know you," Angel insisted. "Maybe it's been almost a year since I saw you, but I know you're better than this." Angrily, Angel lifted up his case file before letting it fall back onto the table heavily.
"And now you're in this shit," the lawyer continued, "because they've got your fingerprints on the murder weapon."
"What soddin' murder weapon?" Spike demanded, fear flashing through his eyes.
"A broken beer bottle, found outside The Bronze, next to the body."
"I sucked down prob'ly seven or eight bottles that night, Angel," Spike insisted. "Anyone could have used one to kill a bloke."
"And that's why this is called circumstantial evidence. It would be much easier to get this case against you dismissed if I could build your alibi."
"I guess you could go ask Charlie for a statement or somethin'."
"Yeah," Angel sighed. "Without substantial proof that you were elsewhere, we'll need both of their statements to get you out of this."
"Sides which," Spike said, one index finger jabbing the tabletop harshly, "had no reason to kill this bloke. What was his name again?"
"Finn," Angel replied. "Riley Finn. Graduate student at UCLA. Also a CI for Vice, or so I'm told."
"Never 'eard of 'im," Spike replied easily.
"Here's a picture," Angel said, holding out one of the papers in his file so Spike could see it. "Recognize him?"
Spike rolled his eyes before taking the paper from Angel's hands, studying it for a moment before whispering, "Fuck."
"What?" Angel asked.
"Got into a bit of a tussle with 'im last time I came through this way. Didn't like me chattin' up his girl."
Angel pursed his lips angrily at this news, growling, "Just how often do you pass through LA without telling me?"
"Not that often, Angelus," Spike scoffed. "Figured you're always busy these days. Didn't need me puttin' a kink in things."
"At least, if I knew you were coming, I could prepare for situations like this," Angel pointed out, letting a little smile creep onto his face to lighten the mood. It worked, because Spike chuckled, a low sound that Angel had always liked hearing, no matter what trouble it usually meant.
"Sorry, love," Spike laughed. "Didn't mean to inconvenience you so."
Angel glanced at his friend, still smiling, but wondering why Spike had called him 'love'. He'd never done that before, usually reserving the pet name for women whose names he couldn't remember. Angel wasn't sure how he felt about that.
"In any case," Angel decided, packing up his papers. "We should let the cops interview you sometime soon. Cooperation is our best bet at this point."
"If you say so," Spike nodded, the humor draining from his eyes as he looked up at Angel trustingly.
"Just don't say anything until I'm in the room with you, okay?" Angel ordered, standing and knocking on the door to call the guard back.
"What, no goodbye kiss?" Spike prodded, smiling at Angel's frown.
"Thought you'd get enough of that from your new roommate," Angel shot back, chuckling at Spike's expense, though the blonde joined him in laughing at the joke as the guard opened the door and moved to unlock Spike's cuffs. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"
"Yeah, alright, Angel," the blonde nodded, a small grin still on his face. "Soon."
A/N: I've been out of town at a funeral, so I haven't been doing much posting lately. I figured since I already had this chapter done, I'd post it. The next chapter of Legacy is almost done, so that might be up either Sunday or Monday, depending on internet access and time spent writing.
In any case, I hope you liked this chapter, and don't forget to review. I could use your help deciding where the story should go. I've got the next chapter and a half pretty much figured, but after that...? Any suggestions would be welcome!