Free The Law of Second Chances by James Sheehan Page A

my regulars until he got himself killed a few years back. He was a slippery, slimy son-of-a-bitch. The kind of guy you could never be comfortable around. He was cold and edgy and dangerous. What do you want to know about him? Whatever it is, I’m sure he did it.”
    “I’m investigating the murder of Clarence Waterman.”
    Ted leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling for a moment before answering. “Did I represent James on that one?”
    “No, he was never charged. Somebody else was, a man named Henry Wilson. Clarence Waterman was a drug dealer and a hairdresser as well, and somebody slit his throat.”
    “The hairdresser. Oh yeah, I remember the hairdresser,” Ted said, almost as if he was recalling a fond vision from the past.
    “You do?”
    “Oh yeah.”
    “I’m surprised.”
    “About what?”
    “I’m surprised you answered so quickly,” said Jack. “I mean, the murder happened seventeen years ago. Yet as soon as I mentioned he was a hairdresser, you recalled it. Why?”
    “Because James told me he slit the hairdresser’s throat. It’s not every day your client tells you something like that.”
    Jack almost fell off his seat. At best, he’d expected Ted to confirm the story James Vernon had told Wofford Benton. Instead, he confirmed that Vernon had told him exactly what the snitch, Willie Smith, had testified to at trial.
    “James Vernon told you he killed Clarence Waterman?”
    “Yeah.” Ted said it nonchalantly, like he was talking about the score of a baseball game or what he’d had for dinner the night before.
    Jack wanted to grab the man by the throat and ask him if he understood that another man was on death row for this murder. But he restrained himself. He was going to need Ted Griffin’s help in the not-too-distant future.
    “What exactly did Vernon tell you?”
    “He said he went to Waterman’s house to buy drugs. He said Waterman started to come on to him in a homosexual way and he took out his knife and cut his throat.”
    “Was anybody else with him?”
    “Two other guys, I believe. I’m a little fuzzy on that part.”
    “Do you know if either one of those two other men was Henry Wilson?”
    “Who is Henry Wilson?”
    “My client. The man who is on death row for this murder.”
    “Oh yeah, I see. That’s why you’re here. You told me that already, didn’t you? That’s the part I’m not sure about. I don’t know if your client was one of the two men with James or not.”
    “Why didn’t you go to the authorities with this confession?”
    “Counselor, you know I couldn’t do that. That’s privileged information.”
    Jack didn’t want to argue the legalities of the attorney-client privilege with the man. He did feel compelled to inquire a little further.
    “How long ago did James Vernon die?”
    “About five years ago. It was some kind of a drug deal gone bad.”
    “Well, if he died five years ago, the privilege died with him. Why didn’t you tell somebody then?”
    “Because, first of all, I didn’t know that James was telling me the truth—I mean, he told Anthony Webster somebody else killed Waterman. Second, I didn’t know if your client was one of the other two men. I don’t know much about Henry Wilson’s case. I don’t know why they convicted him.”
    “Who is Anthony Webster?”
    “He was the investigator for the state. He’s retired now.”
    “The prosecutor’s investigator? You mean the prosecutor was aware that James Vernon said he was at the murder scene?”
    “I believe so. At least, that’s what James told me.”
    “Where’s Anthony Webster now?”
    “I think he moved to Lake City. I’m not sure he’s still alive.”
    “Would you be willing to put what you told me today in an affidavit?”
    “Go ahead and prepare it. If it’s accurate, I’ll sign it.”
    Ted Griffin was an affable enough guy, but it was obvious to Jack that he wasn’t going out of his way for anybody.
    On the drive back to Bass Creek later that