51

Judge Norcross canceled court for the entire week following the death of Sidney Cranmer. Over dinner one night, he and Claire discussed whether he should attend the professor’s funeral. It was scheduled for that Saturday at Johnson Chapel on the Amherst College campus. Claire would be one of the speakers.

“I want to be there,” David said. “The case is over. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

David had made grilled swordfish, an easy, regular entrée that he was proud of and that Lindsay and Jordan both actually liked. The girls had finished up quickly, probably sensing that the adults wanted to talk. Lindsay, who was grumpy for some reason, had retreated upstairs to her room, and Jordan was watching television. It was a fairly normal evening.

“People might think it’s kind of odd to see you there,” Claire said.

“I don’t care.” David looked into Claire’s eyes. “He wasn’t a perfect guy, but as far as I’m concerned, he earned his spot in heaven.”

The chapel, as it turned out, was packed for Sid’s funeral. David noticed Elizabeth Spencer, looking very sad, coming in with a group of her friends. Linda Ames slipped into a pew directly in front of them. As the organ was warming up, Ames shifted around and whispered, “I’m going to be in court this Tuesday on the Kirkwood case, Judge. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you afterward about a personal matter.”

People were nodding and smiling to each other as the organ drifted into a muted, high-church rendition of the Rolling Stones hit, “Sympathy for the Devil.” Sid Cranmer would have loved it.

“No problem. Let Ruby know, and she’ll bring you around to chambers.”

Ames’s new case involved the mayor of Kirkwood, a town west of Springfield, who was charged with extorting money from the municipal towing contractor. Norcross was curious how Ames would mount a defense. The government had her client starring in a secretly recorded video clip that was particularly embarrassing. At the payoff, when the government’s cooperator had reached out with the cash, the mayor had looked at the wad of bills and said, in an offended tone, “What? No envelope?”

In court, at the Tuesday conference, Ames asked for ninety days to retain an investigator and to research and prepare pretrial motions.

Judge Norcross was surprised. “Is that much time really necessary?” The mayor needed a lot of help, but this was unusually long.

“I’ll be honest, Your Honor. My son and I are going to Nantucket for the month of July. I’ve rented a place and …”

The assistant U.S. attorney, an African American woman out of Boston, stood. “The government has no objection, Your Honor. In view of …” She looked at Ames and nodded. “In view of everything that’s happened.”

After the conference, Ruby Johnson brought Ames around to chambers. Ames and Norcross shook hands, and Ames took a seat facing the judge across his desk. Before she had a chance to talk, Norcross got up and closed the door for privacy.

As he returned, he said, “Listen, before we get started, I want you to know how sorry I am about Professor Cranmer.”

“It was hard for all of us.”

“It must have been especially hard for you.”

Norcross was puzzled by the cloudy look that came over Ames’s face.

“It’s true that it’s hard.” She looked to the side and shifted in her chair, gathering herself. “It’s hard in complicated ways.”

“Sorry. I’m not following you.”

Ames sat up. “Sid gave up his life to save Ethan and Claire. I’ll never forget him, or stop feeling grateful for that.” She cleared her throat and spoke a little louder, approaching her courtroom voice. “On the other hand, Sid had no business letting Ethan visit him without telling me.”

“I should have thought of that. I can see—”

“And I keep wondering—excuse me for interrupting—I keep wondering if Sid suspected that Jonathan had problems, tried to protect Jonathan for some reason, and ended up putting Ethan in danger.” Ames’s face had turned slightly pink as she spoke. She was twiddling her fingers on the arm of her chair. “If Sid came down from heaven right now, I wouldn’t know whether to hug him or strangle him.”

“I see what you’re saying. Seems a lot of people felt that way about Professor Cranmer.”

“It’s very hard. Ethan’s decided that the whole thing was all his fault, the fault of a ten-year-old who disobeyed his mom.” Ames looked to side and shook her head. “I’m afraid he may even think he should have just done whatever awful thing Jonathan wanted him to do. He’s so sealed up I can’t reach him. That’s why we need the time away.” She took in a deep breath and blew it out. “Sorry. This isn’t why I came here. It’s horrible. Adults fuck up—excuse me, but I can’t think of a better word—and kids pay the price.”

“Take the whole summer if you need it.”

“Thank you. We’ll see.”

It turned out that the main reason Ames had sought out the private conference was that she wanted Norcross to know that she’d decided to stop taking criminal cases. This was very bad news.

“Oh,” Judge Norcross said when he’d heard of Ames’s plans. “Oh, man, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

Sid Cranmer had retained Ames, paying her out of his own pocket, but Ames was also a mainstay of Norcross’s roster of attorneys who took low-fee appointments for indigent defendants. Losing her would be a heavy blow.

“I’m thinking of doing residential real estate or something. I’ll die of boredom, but at least …”

“Think about it, please, Ms. Ames.”

“Criminal cases just eat you up, Judge. And, with cases like Sid’s, if you have a kid—”

Norcross interrupted. “Okay, none of those for a while.”

Ames talked over him. “I think about your Underwood case, for example. I’m sorry, but I want the guy to be boiled in oil.”

“Well, we’ll leave that. But listen, I’ll give you a break on any new appointments until the fall. Then we can talk again. How about that?”

Ames looked to the side long enough for Norcross to wonder what she was thinking. He made himself hold off saying anything more, giving her time, hoping her natural bent would bring her around.

Finally, she spoke, half to herself. “I am so hungry.”

Judge Norcross quickly pulled open a desk drawer. “I think I have a granola bar somewhere in here. It’s about a hundred years old.”

“I skipped breakfast.”

“We can split it.”

Norcross unwrapped the bar and broke it in half. The two of them chewed in silence for a while, and then Linda Ames sighed and stood up.

“Thanks for the snack. I better be on my way.” They shook hands.

“Think about what I said, will you, please?”

“I will.”

When she was in the doorway, Norcross called after her. “You’re cooking up something in the Kirkwood case that’s going to complicate my life, aren’t you?”

Ames gave him a quick, tight smile and raised her eyebrows. “Hope so.”