“Okay. Why don’t you tell me how trying a case compares to the feeling you get just before a sporting event. How’s that?”
David thought for a few minutes before answering.
“I don’t think they’re that similar,” David said. “Winning or losing at sports depends on your performance during the sporting event, but a lawyer can’t win a case at trial. Or, anyway, not usually.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the facts of each case are determined by the time the case gets to you. All the facts might not be revealed, but they’re there. So a lawyer wins his case before trial by finding out, through investigation, what the facts are. A lawyer can’t change the facts, but once he knows what the facts are, he can deal with them. Try to get the jury to look at them in a certain way. And there is usually more than one way to look at the facts.
“A few years back I represented a man who tried to hold up a minimart. He walked in with a shotgun and told the manager to give him the money or he would kill him. The manager was a feisty little guy, and he whipped out a handgun and shot my client through the neck. When the police arrived, my man was lying in a pool of blood holding the gun, and there were five eyewitnesses who swore that he tried to rob the place. The DA charged my client with armed robbery. Those were the facts I started with. Want to guess the verdict?”
Gault smiled.
“It has to be not guilty, but how did you do it?”
“There were other facts we didn’t know about when we started. When they took the defendant to the hospital for surgery, they took a blood sample. One of the routine checks the hospital makes before performing surgery is to find out how much alcohol a person has in his system. My man was loaded. He had consumed so much alcohol that I was able to get two prominent psychiatrists to testify that a person in his condition would not be able to form the intent to commit the crime, and the district attorney must prove intent as one of the elements of the crime of armed robbery.
“The next step was to find out why my client drank like that. It turned out that his wife had died and he had gone to pieces. When I got him, he was already an alcoholic.
“Finally, we had to figure out why he had been at the minimart in the first place. My investigator asked around, and it turned out that our boy had been blotto that day. Two of his buddies had planned the robbery and sent him inside. He was so drunk, he didn’t know what he was doing. In fact, he doesn’t remember what happened to this day.
“When we presented all the facts to the jury, they acquitted. It wasn’t what we did at trial, but the investigation before trial, that mattered. Getting the facts, then presenting them in a favorable light at trial.”
“And is that what you did in the case of State versus Thomas Ira Gault? Manipulate the facts?” Gault asked with an impish grin.
David looked straight at Gault without smiling. The question had caught him off guard.
“Yes,” he answered.
“You know, David,” Gault said, “there is something I’ve always wanted to ask you. All the time you were defending me, and doing such a bang-up job, what did you think? Guilty or innocent? Tell me.”
“Guilty,” David said without a moment’s hesitation. Gault threw back his head and laughed loudly.
“Terrific. And you still worked your ass off. David, old buddy, you are a pro. Now, do you want to know something?” Gault asked in a conspiratorial tone.
“What?”
“Is that attorney-client thing-the privilege-is that still in effect?”
David nodded, very tense.
“Anything I tell you is secret, right? No police, nobody else finds out, right?”
David nodded again. Gault leaned back in his seat and grinned.
“Well, I did it, old buddy. Beat the shit out of her. Ah, she deserved it. She was a real bitch. I mean the original bitch. Anyway, I was tanked. Really polluted. But randy. Very hot to trot. And do you know what? She turned me down. The bitch would not spread. I couldn’t let her get away with that, could I, Dave? I mean, I was really ready for some exotic stuff. Not your missionary position. No, sir. I was going to dick her good. But she said no dice, so I decked her. It felt great.”
Gault paused for effect. David didn’t move.
“Have you ever hit a woman? No? It feels terrific. They’re soft. They can’t take the pain.”
Gault closed his eyes for a moment, and a beatific expression possessed his features.
“Julie was very soft, Dave. Soft in all the right places. And she adored pain. Loved it. So I gave her the ultimate in pain. I gave her death.”
Gault paused and looked directly at David.
“What do you think of that, Dave?”
David didn’t know what to say. He felt sick. Gault’s face had hardened into a sadistic mask as he talked, and the handsome features looked twisted and grotesque. Then the face split open and Gault began to shake with laughter.
“Oh, you should see your face. God!” he roared between breaths. David was confused by the sudden change.
“It’s not true. I made it all up,” the writer gasped. “What terrific dialogue. You should see your face.”
“I don’t…” David started.
“It’s a joke, son. Get it? A joke. I didn’t kill Julie. She was a bitch, all right, and I’m not broken up about her death. But, shit, she was a human being and I’d hate to see anyone go the way she did.”
Gault stopped and David tried to speak. He didn’t know whether he wanted to hit Gault or get a drink.
“You son of a bitch,” he said finally.
“Really had you going, didn’t I?”
“Jesus.”
“Serves you right for thinking I did it in the first place.”
But David didn’t know what to think. There had been something about the expression on Gault’s face when he was making his confession…
“Aren’t you going to say anything, old buddy?” Gault asked, his grin spread across his face.
“I don’t know what to say,” David answered, his tone betraying some of the anger that had replaced his initial shock and confusion.
“Aw, come on, Dave. You’re not mad, are you?”
“Dammit, Tom,” David said, his face flushed, “that’s not something to kid about.”
“Now, that’s where you’re wrong, boy-o,” Gault answered. “The first thing you learn when you are soldiering is that Death is a joke. The ultimate prank, old buddy.”
Gault leaned across the desk. He was talking toward David, but David sensed that Gault was speaking to himself.
“Death is everywhere, and never forget that. The more civilized the surroundings, the harder it is to spot the little devil, but he’s there, hiding in the laundromat, peeping out from your microwave oven. He’s got more camouflage here in Portland, but he’s always present.
“Now, there’s two ways of dealing with Death, old buddy: you can fear him or you can laugh at him. But I’ll tell you the truth: it don’t make no difference how you treat him, because he treats us all the same. So when you’re in the jungle, where you see Death every day standing buck naked right out in the open, you get to know the little devil real well and you learn that he is a prankster and not a serious dude at all. And you learn that it’s better to die laughing than to live each moment in fear.”
Gault stopped abruptly and sat back in his chair.
“I hope I remember that,” he said. “Be great in my next book, don’t you think? Real profound.”
“Very, Tom,” David said, still unsure of what to make of Gault’s confession and disconcerted because of his uncertainty. “Look, do you mind if we work on the book some other time?”
“Hey, I didn’t upset you, did I?”
“No, Tom,” David lied, “I just didn’t expect you and I’ve got some things to do. Why don’t we get together sometime next week?”
“Sounds good,” Gault said, standing. “I’ll give you a call.”
Gault started to leave, then stopped with his hand on the doorknob.
