The mayor, like a glorified usher, had led us to our seats in the front of the orchestra, and a ripple had gone through the audience that turned into a near roar. Walker grinned and waved at the crowd, but it wasn’t him the audience was reacting to, even though the orchestra was graciously playing the theme song Walker had penned himself (“Will You Love Me in December as You Do in May?”).
The fuss was over Darrow—he’d been recognized.
Soon the old boy was swamped with autograph-seeking admirers (Walker seemed mildly miffed by the lack of attention), and this went on till the lights dimmed and the overture began.
I was sitting next to Darrow who was sitting next to Leisure who was sitting next to the mayor. Throughout the entire play—which I understand was a Pulitzer prize-winner by George Gershwin, though I couldn’t hum you a song from it if you put a gun to my head—Darrow sat whispering to Leisure. Their sotto voce dialogue continued through intermission to the finale, as Darrow filled the young lawyer in on the facts of the Massie case, as well as his theories and plans concerning same….
Mayor Walker ducked out before the final curtain call, and as we were walking out onto West 45th Street, where a cool spring breeze nipped at us, Darrow was saying, “You know, George, I’ve been retired from practice some time now, and haven’t been regularly engaged in courtroom work for several years…”
“There’s no better man for this job.”
“Well, thank you, George, but I’m afraid I’m getting on in years…” Darrow stopped, flat-footedly, as if he had suddenly run out of gas. “Frankly, I would be very pleased to have a younger man accompany me on this trip. I wonder…would it be possible for you to go to Honolulu with me?”
“I would be honored and thrilled,” Leisure blurted.
“Of course, I have to warn you that the fee involved will not be great. In fact, I can promise you little more than your expenses…and the experience of a lifetime.”
“I see…”
“Will you be my associate counsel, sir?”
Leisure thrust his hand out. “With pleasure!”
The two men shook hands. Leisure said he would need to inform his partners, and Darrow requested that Leisure—and his wife, if he so desired—join him in Chicago within a week, to make final preparations; they would talk on the phone in a day or so, so that Darrow could book passage.
Back in Sardi’s, at another booth, with Leisure on his way home, Darrow and I had coffee again—unspiked, this time.
“I’m impressed,” I said.
“It was a good show,” Darrow said.
“It was a good show, all right, and I’m not talking about
Darrow just sipped his coffee, smiling.
“How much was Dudley Malone going to soak you as co-counsel?” I asked him.
“Ten grand,” Darrow admitted.
“And you got one of the top lawyers on Wall Street to do the job for you, free.”
“Not free. Expenses, and probably a modest fee. And priceless experience.”
“He’s not exactly a damn law clerk, C.D.” I shook my head, laughed. “And how’d you manage getting the mayor to drop by?”
“Are you suggesting that was prearranged?”
“Playin’ Walker for a sucker, aren’t you, C.D.? I bet that poor bastard thinks if he gets on your good side, you’ll defend His Honor at the inquiry into his administration.”
Darrow shrugged. Definitely not a grandiose shrug.
“Does Gentleman Jimmy know you’re going to be in Hawaii when he comes under the gun?”
“The mayor of New York stops by for cheesecake and a pleasant social afternoon of theater,” Darrow said, “and you make a conspiracy out of it.”
“How much are you getting?”
“For what?”
“For what do you think—the Massie defense.”
He thought about ducking the question, but he knew enough not to lie to me. I was a detective; I would find out, anyway.
The piercing gray eyes had turned placid as he said, casually, “Thirty thousand—but I have to pay my own expenses.”
I laughed for a while. Then I slid out of the booth. “Tell you what, C.D. See if you can swing that leave of absence for me, and I’ll think about it. But I want a hundred bucks a week, on top of my copper’s pay.”
“Fifty,” he said.
“Seventy-five and full expenses.”
“Fifty and full expenses.”
“I thought you were the friend of the working man!”
