Witness for the Defense by Michael C. Eberhardt Page A

going.”
    After making a show of taking a deep breath, Patterson leaned to his side, picking up the card. “Are you ready to begin, Mr. Dobbs?”
    “As long as it’s tape-recorded.”
    Patterson opened his top drawer and pulled out a small cassette recorder, set it on top of his desk and pushed the record button. He then explained the preliminaries, including who was present and the subject matter of the interview. “And you understand that you do not have to talk to me?”
    I just looked at him.
    “We understand,” Sarah answered.
    “Good.”
    The next half hour Patterson spent reading Miles’s and Martinez’s statements.
    “And that’s a bunch of bull,” I said as soon as he finished.
    Patterson didn’t hesitate. “Then what’s your version?”
    “You know I can’t tell you what was discussed.”
    “What Mr Dobbs means,” Sarah explained, “is that he cannot divulge any of his conversation with Mr. Martinez.”
    Patterson looked at Ogden. “I believe,” Ogden said, “there is the problem of attorney-client privilege.”
    Patterson closed the folder and sat back in his big leather chair, rubbing his chin, pondering the dilemma. “I may have a solution,” he eventually said, like the thought had just occurred to him. “What about a lie detector?”
    “Polygraph!” I vaulted from my chair. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    Ogden held up his hand. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea.”
    I looked at him in amazement. Had this all been rehearsed? “If you’d personally handled a case in the last dozen years, you wouldn’t say anything that stupid.”
    Ogden sat expressionless, his eyes glued to mine.
    Patterson’s voice went cold. “I’ve done my best to be nice to you and—”
    “That’s more bull.” I paused, to take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. But it didn’t do any good. “Anyone with half a brain knows Martinez put that kid up to it,” I said, pointing a finger at him. “But that thought hasn’t occurred to you, has it, Mike? This is personal. I kicked your ass every time you came up against me, and this is your way to get even.”
    Patterson rose to his feet. “I resent that!”
    Sarah gave me a shove toward the door. “What are you doing?” she whispered between clenched teeth. “If you don’t cooperate, he’ll file charges.”
    I shook my head. “Taking a polygraph isn’t cooperating.” I turned to look at Patterson. “No one passes the police polygraph.”
    Patterson was planted again in his chair. “That’s not true.”
    “Oh, really?” I said. “I’ll tell you exactly what will happen. I’ll take the polygraph and immediately be informed I flunked it. Then your examiners will tell me how they want me to retake it. But this time they’re going to help me pass it. But in order to do that, they have to know what it was I originally deceived them about. Then once I open up a little, they start grilling me, the whole time trying to get me to confess.”
    Patterson scoffed, but he didn’t look too convincing. “That’s ridiculous.”
    “I have more than a dozen taped polygraph interviews in the desk in my office to prove it.” I turned to Ogden. “Assuming I still have a desk, that is.”
    Ogden looked at Sarah for help, but I pushed my way past her and stood in front of Patterson. “If I won’t allow one of my clients to be polygraphed, I’m sure in hell not going to subject myself to one.”
    “Are you going to let me finish?” Patterson said, nodding his head for me to sit back down.
    As I slowly took my seat, I glanced at Ogden. Again I had this peculiar sensation that this had been choreographed by the two of them. I couldn’t believe how spineless he was. How could I have worked for him all these years?
    “I mentioned the polygraph in light of your fear about breaching a confidential communication. It’s the only way we can resolve this matter.”
    I didn’t think for a second that Patterson wanted to help, but I wanted to hear