The Big Gamble - Michael Mcgarrity [36]
“I can’t do that,” Clayton said, before Hewitt could respond. “The law clearly states that a suspect can’t be unarrested.”
“It’s your call, Sheriff,” Tredwell said, ignoring Clayton and smiling at Hewitt. “But no judge will let it stand. Mr. Staggs was in his own home and your deputy had no exigent circumstances to make the arrest.”
“There’s plain-view evidence that Staggs was running an illegal gambling operation,” Clayton replied.
Tredwell shook his head. “My client explained to you that he often has friends over for a companionable game of poker. There’s nothing illegal in that. Having playing cards and poker chips for recreational purposes is hardly probable cause to make an arrest.”
“What’s the bottom line here, Tredwell?” Paul Hewitt asked.
“Mr. Staggs feels his reputation has been damaged and his civil rights have been violated,” Tredwell said, spreading his arms out in supplication to an invisible jury. “Look at what happened: Mr. Staggs, a good citizen, agrees to cooperate with the police and gets arrested for his trouble. All because Deputy Istee jumped to an erroneous conclusion.”
“Hardly,” Clayton said.
“Will he tell us what he knows, if we agree to drop the matter?” Hewitt asked.
“Yes, with the proviso that you don’t pursue any illegal gambling charges against him.”
“What else is he willing to do?”
“Mr. Staggs feels it is time for him to move on.
You’ve damaged his reputation among his friends. He no longer feels comfortable living here.”
“When?” Clayton asked.
“As soon as possible,” Tredwell replied.
“With no more friendly card games until he goes?” Hewitt asked.
Tredwell nodded.
“So how do we unarrest him?”
“At the time Deputy Istee detained my client, he had what appeared to be a potentially dangerous situation involving a murder suspect. Mr. Staggs is quite willing to think that your deputy restrained him solely to keep him from harm’s way.”
“Yeah, that’s why I cuffed him and read him his rights,” Clayton snapped.
Tredwell shook his head sadly. “You made a false arrest, Deputy. I’ve advised my client that he has a strong civil rights case, should he choose to pursue it. We can either meet at some later date in court, or act today in a cooperative spirit.”
Tredwell gave Hewitt his best billboard smile. “Lincoln County would have to pony up out of the public coffers if we won the suit, which I believe we would. I doubt voters would like seeing their taxes going to pay Mr. Staggs for Deputy Istee’s mistake.”
“Deputy Istee was only protecting Mr. Staggs from a dangerous situation,” Paul Hewitt said without hesitation.
“Very good,” Tredwell said, turning away. “I’ll let my client know we’ve reached an understanding.”
Clayton stared silently at Tredwell’s back until he disappeared inside. Never in his years as a cop had he been accused of making a false arrest. “I screwed up, big time,” he said, unwilling to look Hewitt in the eye.
Tredwell appeared in the doorway and beckoned them to come in.
“You aren’t the first cop to make a bad arrest,” Hewitt said as he started toward the porch. “Don’t let it eat at you.”
“Do you think Tredwell could win a civil rights suit?” Clayton asked as he caught up with Hewitt.
“Oh, yeah.”
Cassie Bedlow lived in a fashionable foothills neighborhood near a popular national forest picnic grounds at the bottom of the west slope of the Sandia Mountains. The large house was sited to give views of the West Mesa, where Albuquerque’s sprawl petered out and five extinct volcanos rose up from the high desert plateau.
There was no answer at the front door, so Kerney talked to some neighbors and learned that Cassie Bedlow lived alone, kept to herself, had no children, and owned the Bedlow Modeling and Talent Agency. He called the business and got a telephone answering service. The operator gave him the agency’s street address and noted that Ms. Bedlow was not expected back in her office until morning.
The agency, located on a side street near the university, was closed when Kerney got there. A sign on the glass door announced that a new modeling