Who wanted Donald dead? Because those four guys in jail hadn’t questioned him or threatened him to stay away from somebody. And you don’t interrogate somebody with a drive-by shooting. Somebody had tried to kill Edward’s client twice. On the other hand, as Donald had pointed out, Edward could have been the target of the drive-by too. OK, so who wanted either or both of them dead? The attempted murder had been a good development, just objectively speaking. If Edward could make something of it.
Of course, it could have been somebody from Donald’s criminal past, but that led nowhere. The obvious suspect was Sterling Greene, in retaliation for the crime against his wife. Or maybe, to get far-fetched, it had been Ryan Jennings, whose son Donald had kidnapped years ago, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t be targeted again now that Donald seemed to be up to his old trade. Maybe that’s why Jennings had bailed him out, so he’d be less protected.
But the speculation was pointless. Edward started by calling a police detective who wasn’t exactly a friend but would chat with him now and again. It seemed, perversely, Edward had actually improved his status in that regard by getting convicted and going to prison. Detective Hayes seemed to feel he’d developed some underworld contacts that might come in useful someday. Edward let her think that.
‘Antonio who?’ she answered unhelpfully.
For a moment Edward couldn’t remember the guy’s last name either. ‘Antonio the artist,’ he said into his phone while driving. ‘Surely you don’t have that many pending investigations into the deaths of local artists.’
‘Oh, him,’ said Detective Madison Hayes. Edward could picture her leaning back at her desk, putting her legs up on it. ‘Antonio, uh, Alberico. Yeah. Not my case, but I’ve heard about it. George was pretty excited when he got it. Local celebrity if you’re into that kind of thing. But I think the investigation’s stalled out. When you can’t even get the medical examiner to call it murder it’s kind of a poor start. Plus with the body not being found for a couple of days it’s hard to pin down the time of death, and neighbors have already started to forget which day was which and whether they noticed anything unusual. Sorry, Edward. If I hear anything I’ll let you know.’
‘Thanks anyway, Maddie.’
‘Hey, by the way, is that client of yours going to plead? I mean, the case was cleared for us as soon as he was arrested in the act, but I’m curious.’
‘I don’t know,’ Edward admitted. ‘Says he didn’t do it.’
Detective Hayes laughed. ‘Well, that sets him apart from every other defendant.’
‘Ha ha,’ Edward said, and hung up.
But his detective friend was right. Defendants always said they didn’t do it, and the vast majority of them were lying. Probably the reason this investigation wasn’t going anywhere was because it was exactly what it looked like, a foiled kidnapping.
Edward met with his client again Saturday afternoon. For a moment he thought he was being shaken down, because Donald brought company, and while none of them was wearing a white-and-black striped shirt or a mask, they didn’t look like business people or tourists. The four or five guys and one woman looked like they knew their ways around a jail cell or a house from which the owner was absent.
‘Friends of yours?’ Edward said.
Donald smiled. ‘Yeah. You know Bill here, he was inside with us.’ The guy did look vaguely familiar, though Edward had tried hard to make no friends in prison. Donald named other names Edward saw no reason to remember as of yet. One guy sank onto Edward’s new sofa, looking high on something. Religion, probably.
They were in Edward’s new ‘office,’ which Donald admired extravagantly. ‘Already back in business. My man.’
‘Yeah, I’ve rehabilitated myself. Unlike you.’
‘Hey!’
‘Anyway, nice to meet your friends, but you and I have work to do, Donald. We need to put together a case—’
‘That’s what they’re here for.’ Donald waved his arms around the room. ‘My friends want to help.’ A couple of the gang – probably the right word for this group – nodded and smiled. One was picking up the few objects on Edward’s shelves. Edward started to protest, then stopped himself. Think outside the box, he told himself. Maybe some people who knew both sides of the law could actually help. ‘OK, here’s what we need.’ He sat behind the desk and laid out what little he knew. ‘So we need to find some connection between Sterling Greene and possibly illegal activity, particularly buying stolen jewelry.’ It sounded so stupid even as he was saying it. ‘Now as for Donald’s defense. He claims Sterling hired him the day of the event, but they actually met a few days before when Donald asked him for a job. Then Sterling called him the day of the so-called kidnapping and hired him to do something else. But there’s no proof of that because he got paid in cash.’ Donald started to speak, Edward just shook his head. ‘So we need to find some connection between Donald and Greene before that day. You’re his friends, I assume you were hanging out with him after he got out of the joint. Is there anybody here who can say they saw Donald and Sterling Greene together before the day Donald was arrested?’
Every hand in the room went up. Edward sighed.
‘Is there anyone here who can truthfully say you saw them?’
All the hands went down, slowly. Except one. It belonged to the woman. She was short, wiry, and dark, of hard to determine ethnicity. Edward cocked his head at her and she looked right back at him. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I was with Donald one day when he went to talk to Greene.’
‘You went to Greene’s office?’
‘Naw. They were at some piece of property Greene was supposedly thinking of buying. Old falling-down house on it.’
‘Anybody else with them?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t even think Greene saw me. I waited in the car.’ She added, ‘People tend not to see me.’
She probably made good use of that. Edward stared at her now, though, picturing her as the star witness for the defense. Yep, that was about the caliber of defense this was.
‘All right, I’ll want to talk to you. The rest of you, if you can help, thanks. Bye now. Try not to get arrested.’
They shuffled out. ‘Ms—’
‘Marie.’
‘Marie. Could you wait outside for a few minutes, please? I need to talk to my client in private.’
She obliged without protest. Edward got Donald to tell his story again. This time Donald told it in greater detail but with no contradictions from his previous tellings. Unfortunately.
‘Start with the day you got out of prison,’ Edward said from the chair behind his desk, then leaned back, eyes locked on his client.
‘Oh, man, nobody knows how that feels better than you, Edward. You walk out that door with your little bag in your hand and the bus ticket and fifty bucks they give you. The door slams shut and you’re just standing there. All alone.’
Edward did know that moment very well, when your world suddenly expands hugely, back into the great wide world where once you moved so freely. But now it seemed scary, after the security of the little world inside you’d come to know so well. Even to get the few miles from Huntsville to Houston seemed overwhelming.
‘I just stood there, almost wanting to knock on the door and go back in, you know.’
Edward nodded, his hand covering his mouth.
‘So I took the bus. Drops you off at the Greyhound station downtown Houston. I just walked out and started walking. Thinking the whole world was mine again. Thinking I should’ve made a plan before I got out.’
‘You hadn’t contacted anyone ahead of time?’
Donald shook his head, which was lower than it had been a minute earlier. He was a big strong guy who seemed to be deflating. ‘You know the parole board, they tell you not to resume any criminal contacts. That’s everybody I know. I got on a local bus and let it take me. The second time around the route I got off back in the Third Ward. Walked to where my mama’d been livin’ when I went in, but it was vacant.’
‘You didn’t have a phone number for her?’
Donald shrugged. ‘Didn’t have a phone. And no, I didn’t know her number. Asked a couple of the neighbors, but they didn’t know where she’d gone. I ended up sleeping there in the vacant house, trying to sleep on the floor. Used the money to buy a couple of malt liquors to help me sleep. I thought they’d taste better than they did.’
Edward’s getting out experience had been very different. There were many people he could call, starting with his wealthy parents or sister, but he hadn’t wanted that. But that sense of being overwhelmed had lasted only a few minutes. Linda had been waiting for him. She took him into Houston, a restaurant, into her home, her bed. Her arms. And all that had been wondrously new, because when he went in they’d only been people who saw each other once in a while in an office or at a party. While he was incarcerated Linda had accelerated quickly from acquaintance to friend. And, when he got out, lover.
Donald shook himself and stirred. ‘The next morning things looked better. Breakfast in a diner, saw a guy I used to know, he gave me a ride to the library. Looked at the job listings on-line, got a cheap phone and started calling. Nobody was interested, but I kept trying. Found a few day jobs, a friend to stay with. Working my way down my prospects until I met Sterling Greene. He said he didn’t have anything for me, but a few days later he called me back. The rest you know.’
Right there was where the story stopped making sense. Sterling Greene needing Donald for anything. More likely Donald had seen him as an opportunity. But they went through the story again. It hadn’t gotten any better. Afterwards Edward talked to Marie in more detail. Except she didn’t have any details. Mainly he just wanted to watch her as a potential witness. She didn’t quiver and she didn’t stutter, but she wasn’t what he’d call world class. She spoke in a monotone, looking him in the eye but with heavy lids.
Afterwards Edward sat alone in his new office, which looked like a cheap stage set. He thought, well, the case is shaping up. Into a complete loser.
Early Monday morning, before eight o’clock, Edward was alone in the court offices of the 439th District Court. Around him he felt the building beginning to stir, but for the moment he had complete privacy. He wore his best suit, dark blue, and Linda’s favorite tie. The offices were set up with a common area where one first entered, with two clerks’ desks, filing cabinets, copy machine. On one side from there, down a short hallway, was first the court reporter’s office, then the judge’s private chambers. On the other side was the court coordinator’s office, now with its door closed.
Just as Edward stepped out of the court reporter’s office into the common area he heard a key turning in the door, then it opened suddenly. Edward stood very still. Judge Pershing Roberts entered. Tall, black, and imposing, Judge Roberts had presided in this court for fifteen years. He had features that could be read from the far reaches of the courtroom and a perpetual scowl. Or maybe that was just the only expression Edward had ever encountered on his face. Judge Roberts saw Edward and stopped dead, eyes widening. His hand remained on the doorknob. ‘You,’ he said. An accusation.
‘Well,’ said Edward. ‘This is awkward.’
‘We don’t have a drug case going on,’ the judge said. ‘What are you doing here?’
That was as close as Judge Roberts came to joking. The crime that had sent Edward to prison almost four years earlier had been breaking into these very offices. It had happened during a trial that was a drug case. The evidence had featured a large bag of cocaine that had been admitted in evidence against Edward’s client that afternoon. Edward had watched it carefully from counsel table. As a high-flying, well-known defense lawyer he had, well, flown high. That included developing the habits that went with making a lot of money and spending time with people who made their money from high-end illegal activity. Looking at the bag of cocaine, Edward had thought, There’s a lot of fun going to waste. So he had hidden in the jury room until the building cleared out after five o’clock, then crept back to the offices. Edward had certain skills with a lockpick learned from a former client, but he hadn’t needed those skills because the door had been unlocked. He’d entered the dark offices to find the prosecutor in his case had had the same idea about the cocaine and had beaten him to it. Edward had startled her, reassured her, then they’d become partners in crime. And more. The evening had turned into a memorable drug and eventually sex binge. But it had come to a terrible end when a security guard had entered the offices. Edward ran like a thief, or rather a burglar, drawing the guard away so his partner in crime made her escape. But Edward had gotten caught and eventually convicted. And sent to prison.
The latter was mainly due to the man in front of him. Judge Roberts had been highly offended by the crime. Normally a first offense like that, especially for a lawyer most of the prosecutors knew and liked, would draw a probated sentence. But from what Edward had heard, Judge Roberts had insisted on prison time, and no one in the system wanted to cross him.
Now he stood in front of Edward in the apparently otherwise empty offices, blocking the only exit. ‘This is astounding,’ he said. ‘I thought you were trying to work your way back into practicing law. Instead you’re resuming your—’
‘Judge, this isn’t—’
‘And on top of that you’re interrupting me?’ Judge Roberts made it sound like a worse crime.
‘May I? I didn’t break in, Judge. I came here early because—’
‘Appearances to the contrary notwithstanding. How did you get in? I make very sure my offices are locked every night. Especially since your escapade. I am always the last to leave and I make very sure of that.’
Edward held out his hand. ‘Judge, I came in early because your court reporter is on vacation.’
‘So you saw an opportunity?’
‘No. Well, yes, actually. What I was doing—’
The court coordinator’s door opened and the coordinator stuck his head out. ‘Oh. Good morning, Judge. Everything OK?’
The judge looked from his coordinator back to Edward. His stare softened a tiny bit, to a beam that would only drill a hole through a man rather than slice his head off.
‘I arranged with Richard to come in early because you’re going to have a fill-in court reporter. She’s my … a good friend of mine and to tell you the truth it’s her very first day as a court reporter. So I …’ Edward waved his hand to the court reporter’s office behind him. The judge looked that way and saw a helium balloon and a corner of a banner that said ‘Congratulations!’ in very large letters.
His stare returned to Edward. ‘I’m giving employment to someone who holds you in affection?’
‘Weird, isn’t it?’
They stood without speaking. Some of the best moments in life are when two people who know and like each other very well share a companionable silence where nothing has to be communicated with words. This was not one of those moments.
‘Your own case is on my docket this morning, isn’t it?’ Judge Roberts finally said.
‘Yes, sir. About that. I’m going to be filing a motion asking you to recuse yourself.’
‘On what basis?’
Edward stared at him. ‘Because you insisted I go to prison and put me there, and had me stripped of my law license?’
Judge Roberts stared back. ‘Are you saying because of that I won’t be impartial? In the trial of a presumably innocent person you represent? Are you ready to put on evidence of that?’
Edward studied the judge. Just give me a wink. Some human contact. Lawyers have to make these decisions. Not even a wink and a nod. A stare, like this one, a long stony look.
‘Mr Hall, do you know why I insisted on prison time for you? It wasn’t about you. I actually liked you, Edward. You were a very good trial lawyer, always prepared, fast on your feet but not with glib answers, with well-reasoned positions. I was sorry to see such a career end.’
Weirdest compliment Edward had ever received. He kept listening, cocking his head.
‘It wasn’t you, Edward. It was the crime. It wasn’t a crime against me. It was a violation of the foundations of our system. If we condoned an attorney, an officer of the court, breaking into a judge’s chambers to steal evidence, what next? Breaking in and altering evidence, switching out a fingerprint card? Your offense wasn’t just you having a good time. It was an attack on the system of justice itself.’
‘I didn’t think of it—’
‘And there was no doubt of your guilt. The security guard caught you white-handed, so to speak. Now, by contrast, you are back to representing a presumably innocent man. It is my responsibility to afford him a fair trial.’ Not you, the judge’s voice seemed to emphasize. ‘There is nothing I take more seriously. If you don’t believe that, file your motion and I will voluntarily step aside.’
Judge Roberts stopped talking and just stood there, staring at Edward. Edward looked back. Judge Roberts was a large black man who had grown up in Houston. In spite of his success, before that success, he had suffered the same prejudices Donald had. He might harbor the most sympathy for Edward’s client of any judge in the building.
And given their history, Judge Roberts would try harder than any other judge to at least appear to be giving Edward a fair trial.
‘I appreciate that, sir. I won’t be filing that motion.’
It could have been a bonding moment. But now it just felt awkward.
‘Um, excuse me?’ came a small voice from behind the large judge. Linda edged her way around him.
Edward threw on a huge smile. ‘Surprise!’
Linda looked past him at the decorated office, then up at the unsmiling judge who was her temporary boss. Then the judge said hello in a measured voice. Linda told him her name, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
And the judge suddenly smiled.
‘Welcome to the criminal justice system, Ms Benson. I hope you’ll enjoy your time here. It’s very important work and very rewarding.’
He shook her hand, glanced at Edward, and withdrew to his office. Edward raised his eyebrows. ‘Surprise,’ he said in a smaller voice.
Linda looked after the departed judge. ‘Yes. It is.’
Edward had committed the crime that sent him to prison long before he and Linda were a couple. But it was a notorious event. Linda knew about it and would probably hear about it again, here in the Justice Center. But no one knew the orgy part, except Edward and the woman, who’d gotten away scot-free, thanks to him. Edward planned to keep it that way. If not for the judge, it wouldn’t even have been on his mind this morning.
Docket call was uneventful. Linda sat there at the court reporter’s desk staring straight ahead, already with the concentrated look of her job. Edward answered routinely and Veronica Salazar, who had shown up on time, responded. The judge called them forward to the bench, nodding at Linda to record their conference. ‘Has discovery been completed in this case?’
Edward looked at his opponent. ‘As far as I know, Your Honor. There isn’t much. No physical evidence to speak of, no confession. It will just be eyewitness testimony, unless Ms Salazar knows something I don’t.’
‘That’s the way I see it too, Your Honor.’ Ms Salazar stood tall in a well-tailored suit, from which her long, slender neck extended. ‘My case is ready.’
The judge’s look switched to Edward. ‘Uh, mine’s not, Judge. I need more time for investigation. There are aspects to this case—’
‘How much time?’ The judge’s expression was very neutral. ‘Because I’ll tell you, Mr Hall, I don’t want this case lingering on my docket. It draws unwanted media attention and just distracts from the court’s business. So shall we say a trial date of two weeks from today?’
Edward’s stomach dropped. Hell no. He could be ready today with his non-existent defense, but to prepare, really prepare for trial, he needed weeks. Till next year, probably. ‘I need considerably longer than that, Your Honor.’
The judge looked down, presumably at a calendar. ‘All right. Today is September fifteenth. Shall we say thirty days?’ Before Edward could speak he added, ‘If you believe your developing defense needs more time at that point, Mr Hall, you can file a motion for continuance. But I hope not.’ Edward closed his mouth. ‘Very well, then,’ Judge Roberts concluded. ‘We have a trial date. October fifteenth. Thank you both.’
As if he’d given either of them a choice. Edward walked away, feeling hollow. My God. Thirty days. That was the jet plane of trial schedules.
At counsel table, Veronica turned to him. ‘Talk?’
Edward nodded numbly and followed her out to the hall, motioning to Donald to keep his seat in the courtroom. In the hall Veronica took a seat and patted the bench beside her. Edward sat.
‘It sounds as if the judge would like this case resolved as quickly as possible,’ she began.
‘Judges always want cases to go away. Why don’t they just do their jobs? But if you’re saying you’re going to file a motion to dismiss …’
Veronica laughed, an honest chuckle that lifted her features. She patted Edward’s leg. ‘Funny. No, I was thinking of the more traditional conclusion of a case.’
Meaning a guilty plea. ‘My client insists he’s innocent.’
‘Of course he does. He got off easy last time. You’ve given him false hope, my friend. My case is very straightforward, my victim very believable and she will present well, believe me.’
‘You don’t have a gun,’ Edward began on autopilot. ‘How does he hold her hostage for hours without a gun?’
Veronica gave him a really? expression. ‘Look at him, Edward.’
Fair point. Putting Donald next to Diana Greene would be like a guilty plea in itself. ‘What’s your offer?’
‘It’s a life sentence case. We both know that. Enhanced so the minimum is fifteen. Even if you somehow convinced a jury he released the victim in a safe place again, the enhancement would still make it a first-degree felony. Still life. For a serial kidnapper who won’t stop, this time just a month after getting out of prison. Next time he’s likely to kill someone.’
He had just heard her closing argument in brief. ‘What’s your offer?’ Edward said.
Veronica took a breath, looked at him steadily and said, ‘Forty years. That’s a gift to you of twenty.’
In Texas, any sentence of sixty years or above was treated as sixty years for parole purposes. In a case like this Donald would be eligible for parole after serving half his sentence. Twenty years. Most of the rest of his life in prison.
‘I’ll convey your offer. But as a betting man, I can tell you he won’t take it.’
‘Do your best,’ she said, leaning toward him to look into his eyes. Then she stood and walked away, long legs moving efficiently.
Edward remained on the bench, watching scenes that had had everyday familiarity for him years ago: lawyers conferring with their clients and, worse, clients’ families, talking to each other trying to make cases go away some way short of trial. It all made Edward wonder whether he even wanted to be a lawyer again. Those conversations with the families were the worst. Every sentence the lawyer said began with, ‘Yes, but …’ The practice of law was an esteemed profession from the outside. People who practiced it at ground level, in the courts, knew what a scramble it was. Always balancing one’s own interests against the clients, looking for new clients, wanting to dump the ones you had. Clients all had such problems. By definition. No lawyer has ever gotten a call saying, ‘Hey, man, I’m having a great day and I just wanted to share with you.’ Thanks. Ten-minute call, round up to a quarter hour, that’ll be a hundred and twenty dollars. That was the calculus lawyers made. Do I have to take this call? If so, can I charge for it?
And the work. Edward had some investment in this case because he liked Donald and owed him. Donald had saved his life in prison more than once. Edward did OK inside, inmates always wanted to talk to a lawyer about their cases, but every once in a while there’d be a crazy one who’d take offense at the supposedly stuck-up, rich, white lawyer. Donald was his fallback position for guys like that. But in the vast majority of cases the client meant very little to the lawyer and work itself was repetitive and tedious. Playing with numbers. I’ll give you twelve. I’ll take eight. If you were a civil lawyer those numbers were dollars. In Edward’s world they were years, except very quickly they were just numbers. Work one out and move on.
Edward was in a unique position out of all the lawyers in this large building, because he had only one client, one case. He didn’t have to race from court to court making multiple court appearances. He could spend all his thoughts on this one grim case.
‘Penny,’ said a voice just above his head. He looked up to see the district attorney of Harris County. She sat beside him as if fascinated by the show herself. ‘Wondering if it’s worth it to try to become a lawyer again?’
‘You’re a mind reader?’
‘It’s not tough, seeing a former lawyer staring at the other lawyers at work. Same thing happened to me after I first got elected. Being DA, not having any trial cases, it gives you the same kind of time. Step back and see if I still want to do it. How are you leaning?’
Edward just shrugged. Julia patted his knee. ‘Just do a good job on this one case, Edward. Then you’ll really have the choice to make. How’s it going, by the way? I saw Veronica walking away. How on earth did you have the bad luck to draw her?’
‘I didn’t know much about her. Except that you fired her.’ He looked directly at Julia Lipscomb. Her mouth hardened. ‘She’d turned into the worst kind of prosecutor, too lazy to do anything right herself, taking credit for what her subordinates did. With just the one case you should be fine with her.’
Interesting. Always good to know your opponent had a lazy streak. But Julia was still looking at him for an answer to her first question. ‘It’s going the way they always do, Julia. My client insists he’s innocent, all the evidence says quite the opposite.’ Normally he wouldn’t reveal so much of his hand, but Julia would know what the evidence was. And even though she was technically out of the case, she was much more emotionally invested in it than he was.
‘It’s making Diana a nervous wreck. She just wants it over.’
Edward got the broad hint. If he wanted to do the district attorney a favor, get his client to plead guilty.
‘I’m doing everything I can, Julia. I certainly don’t want to try the damned thing.’
Julia nodded, smiled at him sympathetically and walked away. Edward saw Donald watching her, then turning his gaze back to Edward. His client had been watching him talk to the enemy. Edward and Donald just looked at each other across the courthouse hall.