down the level of his involvement before he proceeded, but all she wanted now was for him to appeal the bail denial.

'You can't want me to stay in here?'

Hardy stood, back to the door, hands in his pockets. After a night in jail Jennifer's feelings about the relative importance of bail had only escalated, and understandably so.

Freeman folded his hands on the table in front of him, speaking very quietly. 'Of course not, Mrs. Witt. But we have got realities to deal with, and I'm afraid one of them involves money.'

'Money. It's always money, isn't it?'

For a moment Hardy thought she almost sounded like her brother.

Freeman spread his hands. In fact, he thought, it often was money. He felt obliged to lay it out for her now, however unpleasant it might be. 'You might get a million-dollar bail on appeal. That's a hundred thousand to the bondsman. Plus the cost of the appeal. If you can't manage that you'll have to go with a public defender at trial.'

Her glance – quick and frightened – went to the door. 'Why not you and Mr. Hardy?'

Freeman's hands came back together. 'Frankly, our retainer… it's my decision, is going to be two hundred thousand dollars, and anybody else would require as much. So if you can't raise the money you go with the public defender.' In addition to believing it was better to be even brutally frank up front, Freeman also held the view that it was actually better for the client to show your tough side, on the theory that if you could be this difficult with your own, think how you'd eat up your enemies. He had long since stopped asking himself if this were a rationalization. He couldn't afford such thoughts, he told himself.

'But isn't a public defender just anyone?'

'No, they have to be approved by the court. And in capital cases there's a substantial level of competency.'

'A level of competency,' she muttered, shaking her head.

'I'm very sorry, but those are the facts of the matter-'

'But this is my life!'

'David.' Hardy felt he had to break in here. All of what Freeman was saying might be important and even true, but the money wasn't the point for Hardy and he suspected that, at bottom, it wasn't really for Freeman either, though he put on a convincing act to the contrary.

Now the old man lifted his baggy eyes. 'What?'

'Let's go outside for a minute.'

*****

They left Jennifer sitting at the table in the tiny room. Outside, in the start hallway, the jail noises now much louder, Hardy got to it. 'How about we come back to the money later?'

'When?'

'Later.'

'It's got to get settled, Diz. She doesn't want to change attorneys.' He scratched at the lines around his right eye. 'She doesn't have enough, then ethically we've got no business starting. I'm just trying to find out, get things clear.'

'You're grilling her, is what you're doing.'

Freeman waved that off. 'Grill, schmill, we need to know and we need to know now.' He patted Hardy's shoulder. 'Look, I know, it's a good case. Hell, we could do it pro bono for advertising. But I want to know what we're dealing with, and this is the time to find out. After that… well, I'll make it up to her.' He inclined his head. 'Let's go back in. I'll make it short and sweet. Promise.'

*****

Freeman sat across from Jennifer. 'Mr. Hardy and I are sorry to have to put you through this, Jennifer, but we do need to know your financial situation. That will help clarify where we go from here.'

The muscles in Jennifer's jaw were working, her face blank. 'Well, I don't think money's a problem… the insurance, you know?'

Freeman was shaking his head. 'No, Jennifer. They'll hold it until you're finished with this. If you're found guilty, they won't pay.'

Hardy couldn't believe it, was she actually trying to smile? 'But you'll keep them from finding me guilty.'

Freeman shook his head. 'I'm afraid I don't gamble with my own money, Jennifer.' Hardy was thinking that his partner hadn't lied – he didn't do suave. 'So let's leave that aside,' Freeman was saying. 'What else? I mean, besides the insurance.'

They had lived in their house for five years, she said, but they had bought high, just as the market was slowing down. Equity was probably at seventy thousand, or a little less. Providing she could sell it. The house account was around twenty thousand. They had had some stocks, another sixty-five thousand. Furniture, some jewelry, two cars. Garage sale prices, Freeman figured.

'What happens if you get bail and… what do they say?… jump it?' Jennifer asked. Then, at Freeman's glare, 'I mean in theory.'

'Don't even think about it. And don't let anybody hear you ask about it. In fact, don't talk to anybody here in jail about anything? That's good free advice. Now, if you jump – first, you lose the money you put up. All of it, and then they will catch you, believe me, they will. You'll never ever get a bondsman again. Finally, you've got the entire judiciary A, convinced you're guilty and Two-'

'B,' Hardy interjected.

'And Two, prejudiced like hell against you. It's a bad, bad idea. Don't even think about it.'

'Not that she's got any bail to jump anyway,' Hardy reminded him.

'Do you guys rehearse this?' she asked.

Freeman was scribbling on his pad. He looked up. 'Here's what I get – even if you don't do the bail appeal and if you sell your house and completely tap out, you're still short. We want to help you, but I'm afraid I'll have to tell the judge we're withdrawing-'

Jennifer faced them. 'There's more,' she said. 'There's another account.'

Freeman stopped gathering his papers. Hardy pulled a chair around and straddled it. 'What do you mean, another account?' Freeman asked.

Jennifer looked down, swallowing. Obviously nervous. 'Sometimes… I just didn't think Larry and I were going to make it, you know? And I thought, well, if I had to go out on my own, with Matt, I mean…' She looked from one man to the other. 'I mean, I just felt I had better have something of my own for Matt and me. Just in case…'

'Just in case what?' Freeman was staring at her.

'Well, you know, like I said, in case it didn't work out. In case I had to get away or something-'

'Get away from what? ' Freeman was remembering what the psychiatrist Lightner had said about abuse.

'Are you saying your husband beat you?' Hardy asked. 'You never…'

Jennifer brought her hand up to her face, as though feeling for remembered bruises. 'No, he didn't, not really, but, you know… still, if I really needed it…'

She stammered it out. She had been squirreling money away for some nine years. In spite of Larry's tight grip on everything, she had found ways to take 'a little from here, some from there,' pad about what she spent on Matt, toys, clothes, make-up, decorating, anything she could manage. The amounts had grown to almost a thousand a month, and she had learned to invest it in high-risk stocks so that the account now totaled close to three-hundred- thousand dollars, unencumbered and liquid.

'Well,' said Freeman, allowing himself a smile, 'if you still want us, Mrs. Witt, you've got us.'

Hardy did not smile. Jennifer's revelation, however justifiable she might make it seem, still bothered him. He'd rather not have known, to tell the truth.

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