T.V. took the photo and studied it. If he recognized Stafford, it did not show.
“This your boyfriend, Ortiz?” T.V. asked.
“You like to do it with boys, Ortiz?” Monroe asked, echoing his boss. There was no emotion in his voice.
“Do you know him?” Ortiz asked T.V.
T.V. smiled. “I ain’t never seen this white boy, massah.”
“I think you have.”
Ortiz noticed that the noise in the pool room had stopped. He suddenly regretted his decision to come alone.
“You sayin’ I’m lying, Ortiz?” T.V. asked. Monroe moved a step closer to Ortiz. T.V. took another look at the mug shot.
“You know, Kermit, this looks like that white boy who offed the lady pig. I read about that in the papers. The word is that Ortiz here fucked up. The word is she’s dead because of you.”
He directed his last shot at Ortiz, and it scored. Ortiz could feel his stomach tighten with a mixture of rage and anguish. He wanted to strike out, but his own uncertainty about his role in Darlene’s death sapped him of his will. T.V. read the uncertainty in Ortiz’s eyes, and a triumphant smirk turned up the corners of his lips. Ortiz stared at him long enough to collect himself. Then he took the picture back.
“It’s been nice talking to you, T.V. We’ll talk again.”
He turned his back on Monroe and Johnson and walked back through the maze of black figures. There was laughter behind him, but the ebony faces in front of him were blank and threatening.
His hand was shaking as he turned the key in the ignition. He felt dizzy and slightly nauseated. He had made a fool of himself. He knew it. Suddenly he was filled with rage. That black bastard was going to talk to him. That son of a bitch would tell him what he wanted to know. And he knew just how to make him tell.
5
David looked down at the stack of papers scattered across his desk. He had brought home a legal memorandum in the Stafford case to proofread, but he was too tired to go on. He closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids. The pressure felt good.
He stood up and stretched. It was ten-thirty. He looked out his den window. A pale-yellow half-moon was peeking around the side of the hill.
It was two weeks after the bail hearing, and the case was starting to shape up nicely. Conklin had secured a copy of Ortiz’s medical file, and it had proved interesting reading. His idea about the Mercedes had panned out, too. Most important, Terry Conklin had finally got around to taking the shots he wanted at the motel. The pictures had not been developed yet, but Terry was confident that they would show what they both thought they would.
David had learned a lot about Larry Stafford, too. He and Terry had talked to people who knew Larry. A picture had emerged of a person who was always under a little more pressure than he could handle. Larry was a striver, never secure with what he had, always reaching for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
Larry’s father had divorced his mother when Larry was in his teens. Larry stayed with his mother, who was never able to cope with the destruction of a life she had built around one man.
Larry’s father was a military man and a stern disciplinarian. Larry idolized him. Although there was no truth to it, Larry half believed that his father had left because Larry had not lived up to his expectations. He had spent the rest of his life trying to prove himself.
Larry had not just joined the Army, he had joined the Marines. In college and law school he had studied constantly, pushing himself to the point of exhaustion. Socially it had been the same story. He read all the books on self-improvement, drove the latest sports cars, often piling up debts to get them, and dressed according to the latest trends. Anyone who did not know Larry well would assume that he had achieved the success he sought, but Larry had achieved only a state of perpetual fear that drove him toward goals he could never reach.
David had come to feel sorry for Stafford. Jenny was right when she said he was like a little boy. He had no idea of what was really important in life, and he had spent his life running after the symbols of success. Now, just as he had grasped those symbols, they were going to be stripped away.
Stafford had married wealth and beauty, but his marriage would not last. Jenny was protective of her husband, but David knew that it was out of a sense of duty, not love. He felt sure that when the trial was over, no matter what the outcome, Larry Stafford would lose his wife.
Larry would never make partner at Price, Winward, either. David had talked to Charlie Holt about that. Before his arrest there had been no clear consensus among the partners. Stafford did not have a first-class legal mind, but he did well in matters that required perseverance. Stafford’s arrest had unbalanced the scales. The firm could not afford the publicity. If acquitted, Larry could look forward to a year more as an associate to give the appearance that the firm was fair, but it would be made clear to him that there would never be an offer of a partnership.
The doorbell rang and David went to answer it. Jennifer Stafford was waiting when he opened the door.
“Can I come in?” she asked, a bit unsure of herself.
“Of course,” he said, stepping aside.
Jenny was dressed in jeans, a black turtleneck, and a poncho. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked very beautiful.
“I was going to call,” she said hesitantly, “but I was afraid you would tell me not to come.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said a little too quickly. “I’ve been locked up with my law books all evening, and I can use some human companionship.”
David watched her wander across the living room. There was a fire in the fireplace, and Jenny stood in front of it, her back to him.
“Can I get you a drink?” David asked.
“Please.”
The liquor was in another room and he wanted a chance to settle down. Jenny had not been to his house since the night they had made love. Now she had come to him, and he was very unsure of himself. There had not been a moment since he had seen her again at the courthouse that he had not wanted her, but there was an unspoken understanding between them that made any personal discussions taboo.
Jenny was sitting in front of the fire, leaning against a large pillow, when he returned with her drink. He sat beside her, listening to the logs crackle and watching the flames twist and curl.
“How have you been?” he asked.
“Busy. School’s back in session. I’ve had lesson plans to prepare, and they’ve given me a class of exceptional children. They really keep you on your toes.”
“Have you had any problems because of the case?”
“No. Actually, everyone has been very kind. John Olson, our principal, told me I could stay out for the whole trial.”
“That’s great.”
“My folks have been unexpectedly supportive, too.”
“Why, didn’t you expect them to be?”
“Mom’s never approved of Larry. You know how mothers are.” Jenny shrugged. “Anyway, Mom even volunteered to go to the jail with me on visiting day.” Jenny laughed suddenly.
“What’s so funny?”
“Mom at the jail. You wouldn’t understand unless you knew her.”
Jenny laughed again. The laugh was warm and open, without a trace of the self-consciousness that had characterized their relationship from the start. David wanted to hold her very much at that moment. She must have sensed this, because she stopped and her smile faded.
“David, I want you to be honest with me. Are you going to win? Will Larry be acquitted?”
“I think so. The State’s whole case rests on Ortiz, and I think I’m going to be able to take him apart.”
David expected Jenny to ask him how he planned to get to Ortiz, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood up and walked toward the window. He rolled onto his side and watched her.
“If Larry was convicted…” she started. “If you didn’t do your best to…”
