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was in Mahler’s best interests to call Andy back “before it is too late.”

Andy’s phone rang at noon on Saturday. Caller ID showed that it was Mahler calling, so Andy pressed the button to commence the recording. Then he answered with “Richard Mahler, I’m glad you finally called back.”

“Mr. Carpenter, I am going to have to insist that you stop bothering me. I will turn this over to my attorney if I have to. I am not interested in anything you or your client has to say.”

“How about Harold Marshall?” Andy asked. “Are you interested in anything he has to say? Because he tells a fascinating story. Actually, not to worry … you can read about it in the paper.” Andy neglected to mention the part about Marshall vowing never to come forward publicly.

There was dead silence on the phone for at least twenty very long seconds. Then, “I don’t know any Harold Marshall.”

“It took you all that time to come up with that? That’s the best you got?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“You do and you are throwing away your last chance to deal with this. Because the next person you will be talking to about it is a homicide cop. That won’t go well for you, Rico.”

Another long silence, then, “What do you want?”

“First of all, I want you to know that we know everything. Once Marshall comes forward and they start to turn over more rocks, then everyone will know everything. The only thing we don’t know for sure is who is above you. I assume it’s Musgrove, but I can’t be sure.

“But here’s the thing, Rico … when something like this goes south, goes public, you don’t want to be the top guy. That’s a bad place to be. You want to be the guy who identified the top guy. That is the only way to play it, believe me.”

“I was a nobody in this. I just did what I was told.”

“I know that. But you need to take care of yourself now.”

“You don’t know Musgrove.” Mahler sounded desperate. “He will come after me.”

“Not if he’s in custody.”

There was another long silence, then, “I don’t kill people.”

“Then you need to tell the police, and my jury, who does.”

“I need to think about this. Please give me until tomorrow.”

“No longer than that. But understand that it is coming out no matter what. Your only decision is which side to be on.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t blow this one, Rico. You’ve only got the one shot.”

When the call ended, Andy calls me and tells me about his conversation with Mahler, in detail.

“What do you think he will do?” I ask.

“I don’t know; he sounded panicked. I know he believed me when I told him we knew everything; mentioning Marshall was the clincher. He should come forward; in these circumstances it would be the smart thing to do. But it could go the other way as well.”

“At least we finally know what’s going on.”

“Tell it to the jury.”

I’M not thinking about what will happen if Mahler comes forward.

I’m focused on what will happen if he doesn’t.

Andy’s threat to blow the lid off this thing, while I hope it seemed credible to Mahler, was actually empty. Without Marshall going public, we have no victims to parade in front of the judge or the public. We know what’s going on, but the jury will remain in the dark.

We simply do not have a plan B.

Andy hasn’t said so, but plan A is not exactly foolproof either. If Mahler just admitted to the blackmailing, that doesn’t clear me of the Kline murder. Mahler would have to identity the real killer, which he might not do. He might not even know who it is; as the computer guy, he could have not been tied in to the violent side of the operation.

I’m sitting in court going nuts agonizing over what Mahler is going to do. Andy, meanwhile, is about to start the defense case. He clearly has to maintain total concentration; I have no idea how he is able to compartmentalize like this.

His … I should say our … first witness is Cynthia Geisler. Cynthia is a blood spatter expert that Andy has brought in from Chicago.

It must have been an interesting conversation between Cynthia and her parents when they talked about the career path she wanted to follow.

“You’re interested in blood?” her mother might have asked. “Isn’t that a little ghoulish?”

Cynthia probably laughed. “No, come on, Mom … I’m not interested in blood. Blood is creepy. But I am fascinated by how it spatters. Like when the jugular gets slashed.”

I’m impressed and grateful to Andy that she is here. I’m sure he could have gotten by without her coming; if he’s found something worthwhile for our case in the way the blood spattered, he could have handled it himself. But he didn’t; he went the extra mile and brought Geisler in. I’m sure Chicago blood spatter experts do not come cheap.

They may not be cheap, but they’re pretty boring. Geisler drones on about how it is unlikely that blood spurting from Kline’s neck could have landed in the way that the clothing in the garbage bag appeared. She talks about initial impact, range, and transference, and while she seems to know what she is talking about, I’m not sure the jury is taking it all in.

On cross-examination, Dylan brings the conversation even deeper into the weeds. By the time she is finished on the stand, I think the jury will be ready to take up a collection to send her back to Chicago.

At the first break, Andy checks his phone to see if there are any messages from Mahler. His shake of the head tells me that there aren’t any.

After the break, our next witness is Walter Nichols. He’s the neighbor who called 911 to report the domestic violence incident that night, which now seems like ten years ago. I could argue that Nichols is the cause of everything that has happened since; certainly if he hadn’t made that call, I

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