Much later, at her kitchen table in enough clothing not to have shocked the pizza delivery boy, they ate slowly, occasionally looking at Linda’s certificate on the other end of the table. ‘I have news too,’ Edward said. He didn’t want to steal the occasion from her, but he knew Linda would want to know.
‘All right, but we already celebrated mine. If yours is good news too I’m going to be exhausted.’
‘Mine is more mixed.’
He told her quickly, just the outlines of the deal the district attorney had offered him.
‘You’re going to represent that guy who kidnapped the socialite? What’s her name, something Greene?’
‘If you’re going to work in the criminal justice world, it’s going to be important to remember things like the presumption of innocence.’
‘It was on television!’
‘There’s that.’ Like a reality TV show.
‘Plus this wasn’t his first time. It’s more like his career.’
Yes, all the news outlets in town had helpfully informed potential jurors of Donald’s infamous past.
Linda slumped back. But then she came forward again, smiling. ‘But this is good.’
‘Wow. Tell me the good part, Opti-Miss.’
Linda took his hand. ‘Julia doesn’t want you to win. To get your license back you need to lose, and fairly big time.’
Yes, Linda had grasped the big picture quickly.
‘So it’s great that your client is so obviously guilty. Because you can do your absolute best, not hold anything back, and you’re still going to lose.’ At Edward’s expression she took both his hands and looked into his eyes with total affection. ‘Babe, you know I love you and I think you’re brilliant. But there’s no way to win this one.’
Edward chuckled. ‘You’re amazing. You did manage to find the pony in all this shit.’
She came into his arms again, tasting of pepperoni and scented lipstick and woman and love.
The rest of the pizza went cold.
A week later Edward returned to the courtroom. It had been a hell of a struggle to get here. Not just the part about getting out of prison and being given a second chance and all. It had been physically almost impossible to get into the building. Since Edward’s last trial Houston had had a visitor named Harvey. The hurricane had been incredibly destructive. It hadn’t levelled the city, not even close, Houston was too strong for that, but it had ruined hundreds of homes, knocked out factories, landed many, many people stranded on their roofs, left large parts of the city without power and food and drinking water for weeks. One of its victims had been the Criminal Justice Center, the twenty-plus-story downtown tower where Edward had spent his legal career. The building still stood. From even a near distance it looked untouched now, but inside it had been rendered non-functional. The heart of the electrical system in the basement had been flooded, ceilings had burst throughout the building, carpets, of course, ruined. A sewer pipe had burst in the district attorney’s offices, leading to very obvious jokes.
The inhabitants of those offices, the assistant DAs, had been dispersed throughout the city to ‘temporary’ offices that were threatening to become permanent.
Houston’s justice system was a complex. The old courthouse, the Criminal Justice Center, a family and probate courthouse, a juvenile courthouse, and a giant civil courthouse all stood within a few blocks of each other. The busiest of these by far had been the Criminal Justice Center, where trials were always going on, and in courtrooms that didn’t have a trial in progress dockets were being called every day, plea bargains made, the steady influx of prisoners accused of crimes either released or, much more commonly, sent on their way to prison. When the building could no longer hold all that activity, it had to go somewhere. The most obvious somewhere was right next door, the gleaming and newer civil courthouse that was equally imposing against the skyline. The two buildings were near twins, of similar height and similar appearances of steel and glass. But the difference in the atmospheres of the two courthouses was the same as between an auto repair shop and a cathedral. The Criminal Justice Center was a working courthouse, every day, so swarming with business it took forever to get an elevator to one of the upper floors. In the civil courthouse many fewer cases were called and many fewer still actually went to trial. The busiest area of civil law was family law – divorces, child custody, and so forth – and it had its own courthouse. The civil courthouse was for people or companies suing each other. The great majority of those cases were settled or dismissed, and most of the bargaining that led to those results took place elsewhere. So the civil courthouse was a quiet, serene place where impeccably dressed lawyers answered respectfully to judges in nearly empty courtrooms, making their arguments in measured tones.
Then the criminal world had come swarming in. Barbarians at the gates, then inside the gates. Then taking over the courtrooms themselves. That’s what county commissioners had worked out, again on a ‘temporary’ basis. Civil judges shared their courtrooms with their criminal law counterparts on a rotating basis, week on and week off. The once pristine courtrooms were defiled by criminals and criminal lawyers – the latter almost as bad as the former in the eyes of civil practitioners.
So when Edward returned to a courtroom it was to one of those, on the sixteenth floor of the civil courthouse and again, it had taken forever to get the elevator up here. He’d arrived early, but it was still after nine a.m. when he rushed in, heard Donald’s name called by the judge, and immediately called, ‘Here, Your Honor.’ The judge didn’t even glance up, just went on down the docket, and Edward had a moment to catch his breath.
There were prisoners in orange jumpsuits in the jury box, hands handcuffed in front of them, and Donald stood out among them, his shaven head rising above the rest. He smiled at Edward, obviously relaxing at the sight of his attorney.
Who wasn’t actually an attorney. Edward saw a few heads turn to look at him. One of them was Ms Swan, from the Bar Association. He walked down the aisle and stood in front of her, frowning curiously. She was slender and elegant in a brown suit. ‘Are you going to be here monitoring me every time I come to court?’
‘Do you have a problem with that?’
‘It just seems weird. Do you need to record every move I make?’
‘What if I do?’
‘Are you going to answer every question with a question?’
‘Why should that bother you?’ She had a hint of a smile with that one. Edward turned away.
One of the other people who’d watched his entrance with interest was Julia Lipscomb, the District Attorney. Oddly, she was sitting in the audience. When she caught Edward’s eye, she smiled.
Julia Lipscomb, the two-term District Attorney, was edging gracefully into middle age, a little more padded but much better made up and dressed than when she and Edward had first known each other. Julia had been his supervisor in the DA’s office at one time. She had thought him overly independent to the point of insubordination, which unfortunately for their relationship Edward had taken as a compliment. Julia had achieved the administrative level of the office very quickly because she was good at that sort of thing, the paperwork, budgets, moving personnel around. She had even spent time in Law Nerdland: appeals. Trial work was different. No matter how well one prepared a case, trial work required being fast on your feet, flexible, making up what to say as you were saying it; being a good judge of character of prospective jurors, witnesses, opposing counsel, judges. Its main requirement was a feel for people, achieving rapport with a smile and a quip. Trial work had not been Julia’s specialty.
As Edward stood there Julia retained her seat, just smiling. He finally said, ‘You do know that recusing your office means you’re not involved any more, right?’
‘Oddly enough, Edward, it doesn’t. It just means I have the rights of any other citizen, including observing court.’
Edward pivoted and sat in the seat beside Julia. ‘Julia?’
‘Yes, Edward?’
‘There are two people, a couple, next to you, a few seats down. They seem to be glaring at my client. Would they be your sister and her husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘What the hell, Julia? First appearance? Are they going to be here for every setting?’
Julia glanced to the side. ‘I doubt it. But possibly. My poor sister, Diana, said she wouldn’t feel safe until she saw him in jail coveralls.’
‘OK.’ Edward stretched out the word. Abruptly he decided there was no more to be gained from conversation with Julia at this point, so he stood and strode down the aisle, going inside the bar. He went to the State’s counsel table, said hello, and asked for the file. At that point it was very thin, but contained a police report and a complaint. Edward used it as a cover for looking back into the spectator seats from under his brows.
Sterling and Diana Greene stood out in the sparsely-filled seats. They seemed to be dressed for a very different occasion, he in a three-piece suit, she as if on her way for lunch with the ladies who lunch, the ones who notice the state of everyone else’s nails and hair and clothes and marriage. But their expressions were those of typical victims. Mr Greene glared into the jury box, occasionally shifting that glare from the criminal to his lawyer. When the glare passed across Edward, he could actually feel it.
Diana Greene, on the other hand, was sunk in her chair looking fearful even of being there. Wearing a dress of a shade of blue that made her stand out in the courtroom, she had it buttoned almost to her neck, but Edward saw it could look very stylish with only a few changes. Mrs Greene shot him a glance as if afraid of Edward too. She clung to her husband’s arm.
Edward sighed internally, suspecting he was going to have to contend with that sight every day if this case went to trial, which seemed unlikely. Still riffling the State’s file, he walked over to the jury box and, with a look at the bailiff to make sure it was OK, sat beside his client. The chairs were hard, with thin cushions. Donald filled his like ice cream in a generously-scooped cone.
‘Edward. Man, I’m glad to see you. Those folks been starin’ at me like they got laser eyes. And that other one’s her sister, right? The district attorney herself?’
Edward kept his eyes lowered, and pointed at something in the police report as if showing his client. ‘Donald? Just listen. I’m sitting here beside you to show someone cares about you and you’re not a dangerous man at all. You’re a big puppy dog. Nod your head like you agree.’
Donald nodded, mimicking Edward’s gesture of pointing at the police report. At least he took direction well.
‘Yes, that’s the DA. And yes, that’s the Greenes, your new best friends. Want to wave to them?’
Donald glanced that way. ‘They wasn’t like this, Edward. It wasn’t like this at all.’
‘Had he paid you, Donald? When Mr Greene hired you, had he paid you yet?’
Donald nodded. ‘Eight hundred dollars in advance for that first week.’
That was good. A connection. ‘How? Did you deposit it?’
‘Cash. He took it right out of his wallet, in hundreds and fifties. First money I’d seen since I got out, Edward. I’d just been living off family handouts. So I—’
‘Didn’t have a bank account,’ Edward finished for him. Damn. Donald’s story continued to be unverifiable. In Edward’s experience, there was usually a good reason why a story couldn’t be confirmed by other sources.
Donald was actually reading the police report now. ‘This says I called him to bring the ransom to that little house in the Ward and I’d let her go. Says I gave him a few hours to get five hundred thousand dollars in cash.’
‘So?’
Donald frowned into his lawyer’s face. They’d want to stay away from that expression in future court appearances. It made Donald look fearsome even when he was only frowning in perplexity.
‘It don’t work that way, Edward. You don’t have the victim and the ransom in the same place. You have the guy with the ransom money drop it off some place where you can pick it up, then later you release the victim from some place far away. You don’t bring ’em together. Too much can go wrong, just like happened this time.’
Edward gave his client a look. Donald shrugged. ‘Yeah, man, I know how to do this. And you gotta give a guy more than a couple of hours to get that much cash together. I know that. You make it short, sure, but not that short.’
So Sterling Greene had called the cops instead. Edward risked a glance out into the audience. Mr Greene still glared at him, his shoulders straining the sleeves of his suit coat. Had he brought the money to the kidnapping, or only the SWAT team?
‘Edward?’ Donald tugged at his sleeve. ‘You’ve got to get me out of the jail, man. I can help you investigate this thing. Besides, I don’t like the way some of the guys are looking at me inside.’ Edward looked at him skeptically. ‘I know, man. You know and I know I can take care of myself. But I got nobody watchin’ my back now, and some of these guys …’
Edward shrugged. ‘Maybe I can get your bond lowered, but … What’s it set at right now?’
‘Eight hundred thousand.’
That sounded about right, for a two-time kidnapper who’d committed the second one within a few weeks of being released from prison. Edward was surprised it wasn’t higher. A bail bondsman would charge ten percent of that to put up the bond. Edward strongly doubted Donald could raise anything in the vicinity of eighty thousand dollars.
‘I’ll see what I can do. Do you have any source of funds?’
‘Maybe.’
That surprised Edward. He gave his client a long look. Donald, as big and tough as he was, had a childlike appearance at times. Edward was afraid only he could see that. Donald had done his time in prison for his previous crime, but he was still widely loathed when he came out. So he and Edward had something in common.
‘Let me ask you something, Donald.’
‘Sure.’
‘Why the hell did you come back to Houston?’
Donald shrugged. ‘It’s home.’
Edward just watched him. There had to be more to it than that.
Donald felt his stare and turned to take it on his shoulder, mumbling something.
‘What?’
‘I said people know me here.’
Edward laughed harshly. ‘Yeah, like Dallas knew Lee Harvey Oswald, but that didn’t mean he’d want to go back there to live afterwards.’
Donald just shrugged. Edward thought he understood. After all, Edward had come back to Houston too, even though it had been the scene of his disgrace, and sights reminded him of that almost daily, especially if he came anywhere near the courthouse. But he’d returned. There was a guilty knowledge he and Donald shared: notoriety was almost as good as fame. Being known, even for something bad, gave a person substance. It made you somebody.
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Edward repeated. ‘Try to stay out of trouble.’
Edward left the jury box and went and sat in one of the lawyer chairs inside the railing. As he crossed the room he saw Julia and her sister and brother-in-law were gone. They’d apparently achieved whatever they wanted with their appearance. Edward sat and read the police report. Nothing jumped out at him like it had for Donald. Distraught husband had called police headquarters, been transferred to a detective, and the team had been assembled quickly. This early in the case there was nothing else, no lab reports or crime scene photos. There was one picture of the victim, a full-face shot of Diana Greene looking disheveled and distraught but unharmed. Edward stared at her face for a long minute.
He returned the thin file to the young prosecutor. ‘Your office is off the case, so I can’t negotiate with you. Who do I talk to?’
‘Him, I guess.’
Edward turned to see David Galindo standing behind him. David had been Edward’s chief rival when they were both prosecutors, but that just meant they competed for promotions, not that they were enemies. In fact David had been strangely helpful when they’d opposed each other in Edward’s first trial since getting out of prison, when Edward had defended his sister against a charge of murder.
‘Hello, David.’
‘Edward.’
‘Why were you in the room yesterday when they pushed this assignment on me?’
David ignored the question, pulling Edward aside. David was tall and lanky, wore suits well. He had a long, earnest face with expressive eyebrows. ‘You need an opposing counsel,’ he said. ‘The office hasn’t decided yet whom to recommend as district attorney pro tem.’ That was the legal term for a special prosecutor appointed as the prosecutor for only one case when the DA’s office had removed itself.
‘I don’t think the office gets to make a recommendation.’
David shrugged. ‘Then you want to ask the judge right now to appoint someone? I’ll just stand there. We’ve already filed the motion to recuse the office and appoint someone else.’
Edward looked at the woman on the high bench for the first time. A Hispanic woman of about fifty. Edward vaguely remembered her as a former prosecutor, but he’d never dealt with her. As much as he liked David, Edward suspected a trap. At this preliminary hearing this wasn’t the judge who’d eventually hear the case.
So sure, let’s take a shot with this one. The odds seemed to favor an unknown quantity doing him a solid. He was asking someone to make a decision that would be huge in the case, who would be prosecuting it. With a reasonable person on the other side, the case might be worked out with a plea bargain. If instead a prosecutor was appointed who wanted to get some publicity, this was the case to do it, especially by taking it to trial.
Indicating the judge with a nod, Edward said, ‘Tell me about her.’
David seemed taken by surprise. Then he gave the question honest consideration. ‘Judge Valencia? Fair judge,’ he said slowly. ‘Prosecutor for fifteen years or more, then a few years as a defense lawyer before she decided to run, so she’s had experience both ways. I got the impression she didn’t like defending people, that’s why she ran for judge. But she’s fair in her rulings and sentencings. Calls things for both sides.’
It sounded like an honest evaluation, and it coincided with what Edward remembered of this judge. Edward did trust David. He looked around the courtroom for someone else to ask, but didn’t see any lawyers he knew. Edward had to make this decision on the spot. Once the case was re-set today it would probably be in another judge’s court the next time. Did Edward want to take a shot with her or take his chances on who the next judge would be? He ran through in his head the judges in the criminal justice system. There were so many, and he’d been out of touch for a while. How many liked him and would do him a favor, how many who would really like to screw him over, from his time as a prosecutor, his time as a high-flying defense lawyer (when he may have cut a corner or two), and just the interplay of personalities over the years? Of the ones who he wanted to make this decision and the ones he wouldn’t, he figured the over/under was about forty. Thirty/forty, as to whom he’d want to make this decision, with him on the downside of all those, if he waited for the next setting.
‘Let’s approach,’ he said.
‘Good morning, Your Honor.’ Judge Gloria Valencia looked up at the sound of Edward’s voice. For a moment she looked at him blankly, then she glanced at David, which seemed to put things in context. ‘Good morning, Mr Hall,’ she said.
Edward hesitated. He had to make one of those quick judgments about someone, as good trial lawyers do. He could let this end with the greeting, saying he needed to re-set the case, or he could ask this judge to appoint his opposing counsel, the one who would largely decide the course of the case.
She smiled at him. ‘What can I do for you?’
That’s what decided Edward. The judge sounded pleasant and helpful, like a butcher behind a meat counter. ‘Your Honor, I’m sure you’ve been told about the special circumstances of this case.’
‘Yes, the young lady from the Bar was very informative. I hope it works out for you. And of course for your client.’
‘Thank you. All I’d ask the court to do today is appoint a prosecutor pro tem so I’ll have someone to negotiate with. Mr Galindo of course can’t—’
‘No. All right. Do you want me to appoint someone this minute, or do you want to take some time? Of course I’m not asking you or the DA’s office for recommendations. That wouldn’t be proper.’
‘No.’ Edward nodded deferentially. ‘I was thinking Cecilia Long or Kevin Lewis.’ One was a hard-core defense lawyer, the other a complete incompetent, either of whom would give Edward a sweetheart deal. The judge laughed along with him, then her expression grew serious. She stared at Edward then glanced at David, as if picturing someone in the prosecutor’s place. Edward suddenly wanted to take back his request.
‘I’m thinking Veronica Salazar,’ she said slowly.
‘Uh,’ David said immediately, a sound as if he’d been punched. He recovered quickly and said, ‘I think she’s barely gotten her feet on the ground in private practice, Your Honor. I’m sure she’s too …’
Edward glanced back and forth between them, lost. The name sounded familiar, but he didn’t know the woman in question.
‘I was thinking exactly that,’ the judge was responding to David. ‘This should help her get started. And of course she knows how to prosecute cases. Where’s the order?’ The judge found the right file, opened it to the State’s motion, and flipped its pages to the attached order with a blank for the name of the DA pro tem.
‘You know the circumstances of Veronica’s leaving the office, Your Honor?’ David Galindo said, taking one last shot.
The judge filled in the blank, signed the order, and handed it to her clerk. ‘Make a copy for Mr Hall.’ Then she turned back to the lawyers. Her face had hardened. ‘I don’t believe those rumors,’ she said flatly. To Edward she smiled. ‘Have a nice day.’
That was a dismissal. Edward and David walked away. When Edward thought they were out of earshot Edward said, ‘What just happened? Who’s this Veronica person?’
‘She left our office just last week,’ David said. ‘I forgot Judge Valencia is friendly with her. She’s doing her a favor because Veronica’s just getting started in private practice, I’m sure she doesn’t have very many cases yet.’
‘Why would she leave if she didn’t have a good place to land set up?’
David looked at him. ‘It wasn’t voluntary on her part.’
Oh, shit. She’d been fired from the DA’s office. Good, maybe it was for being a lousy trial lawyer, making too many easy plea offers. But from looking at David, Edward didn’t think that was it.
‘What can you tell me about her?’
David shook his head, looking around the courtroom.
‘David?’
‘Just watch your back,’ David said, and turned and hurried away.
Edward stood there alone, then noticed his client staring at him hopefully. Edward felt lost.
First mistake.