policemen take advantage. You wouldn't believe.'
'So call him,' Cuneo said. 'Tell him to come down.'
'I would, but it's Date Night. He and his wife, they go out every Wednesday. He says it's the secret to his happy marriage. It wouldn't do any good, anyway-if he came down-he wouldn't let me talk to you. He's really strict about it.'
'How much money did you lose at Silverman's?' Cuneo asked.
Holiday sighed. 'Can't say. Question. Oops, look at that. Another customer with an empty glass. Back in a New York minute. Don't go away.'
Holiday went down the bar again, took two drink orders. As he was pouring the second, the inspectors filed past him on their way out.
'Nice talking to you!' he called after them. 'Have a nice night!'
John Lescroart
Hardy 08 – First Law, The
13
Date Night might have been the key to the Hardys' 'marriage, but they weren't having a happy one.
It had started, naturally, with another stop at the hospital. Hardy hadn't wanted to go again-it would be his third visit there today-but Frannie insisted that she wanted to see David. Before she'd seen the damage, she had some sense that in some way she could help. Make him more comfortable, maybe bring him cookies tomorrow. Something.
She'd heard the word 'unconscious,' of course, but the concept and reality of deep coma hadn't yet struck home. She confessed this forty minutes later to her husband, before she'd even gotten her glass of wine, while she was silently crying in their back corner booth at Fior d'Italia. 'I couldn't even see him, really. I've never seen anybody so bandaged. His whole face…' Her eyes pleaded with him, as though somehow hoping he could make any part of it better.
Hardy knew that she was trying to find a place to order her impressions, but they'd assaulted her too violently for that. He put his hand over hers on the table. She just needed to talk. 'It didn't even happen to me and I feel so violated,' she said. 'I don't know how this kind of thing can even happen.'
'That's almost exactly what Gina said.'
'And poor Gina. And after the whole wedding…' She stopped while the sensitive waiter, delivering their drinks, averted his own eyes from her. Hardy had ordered Pellegrino. The waiter took their meager orders-they were splitting the antipasto and then a plate of carbonara. Sensing that it wasn't the night either for a sales pitch on the special, or for glib, he retreated.
'No appetite,' Hardy said. 'Except for maybe killing whoever did that to David.'
'You think that would help?'
'I don't see how it could hurt.' Hardy wasn't speaking ironically. He had no humor left in him. With his jaw set, staring fixedly ahead, he slowly turned his glass of water in the circle of its condensation. 'Sons of bitches,' he said. 'If they think this is going to soften me up, they're making the biggest mistake of their lives.'
'Who is? I thought nobody knew anything about who did this.'
'Nobody does.'
'So who's trying to soften you up?' Clearly, he'd let slip something he'd have preferred to hold close. His mouth twisted in a slight grimace. Frannie knew his looks, and in his rage he was very close to losing control. 'Dismas?'
He picked up his glass and drank it all off. 'I don't even know how to find out.'
'Find out what?'
'How to prove it.' He hung his head in disgust. 'I should just go shake their tree.'
'That is definitely not a good idea. If they did this to David.. .'
'And of course that's what they're counting on. Everybody's scared and nobody does anything.'
She leaned in toward him. 'Do you really think you know who did this?'
'I've got some idea. I might be wrong, but I bet I'm not.'
'Well, then. Tell the police. I know they'll look. They know you.'
'Uh-uh. You and I may remember me as the cop I once was, or the hard-hitting prosecutor I became, but that's all ancient history. Now I'm a defense attorney. I'm not on their side anymore…'
'There's no side. Whoever beat up David…'
But he was shaking his head. 'According to the cops' best guess, whoever beat up David is probably either a bunch of kids or a well-coordinated band of random muggers, neither of whom stole anything. Do either of those theories make even the tiniest bit of sense to you?'
'No.'
'Which leaves what?'
'Somebody with a reason.'
'Exactly. Somebody who stands to lose thirty million dollars if David takes him to court, for example.'
'The man in your lawsuit, what's his name?'
'Wade Panos. Good guy. Private cop. Pillar of the community.'
'He's not beating people up, Dismas. That doesn't make any sense, either.'
'He doesn't have to do it himself, Frannie. He's got people.'
'So we're back to where we were. Tell the police.'
Hardy calmed himself with a deep breath. 'No, now we're back to where we were, I'm a defense attorney.'
'What does that mean?'
'It means you, Susie Citizen, can have something bad happen and you go to the cops and give them some reasons why your suspects might have done it and they'll listen to you with something like an open mind. Whereas, I, defense cretin that I am, I say something and first it's got to make it through the prism of doubt. And especially when I'm accusing somebody who's facing me in court. You, knowing me as the caring human being that I am, possibly can't see that in reality every word out of my mouth is a self-serving lie and every act of kindness is a cynical manipulation.'
'I think you're exaggerating.'
'Not by much.'
'Abe doesn't see you that way.'
'Maybe not all the time, but you'll recall we've had our bad days. And even with Abe, it's always been over this same issue, this inherent lack of credibility. When I walk in the door, first it's what's my agenda? What am I really doing? The idea that I've got something to give them for free that might help in some way just never occurs to them, and they wouldn't believe it if it did. And besides, Abe's not really a cop anymore.'
She frowned at that characterization. 'I bet he'd help you with this if you asked.'
'It's funny you should say that, because just this afternoon I did, and he didn't.'
The frown grew deeper. 'What did you say, exactly? Maybe he didn't realize it was personal.'
Hardy raised his shoulders an inch. 'He knew it was David. That's close enough. He knows the lawsuit is my case now. He's even the one who got me really considering Panos.'
'Well, that's helping you.'
'Okay, as far as that goes. But he's not intervening with any other cops, I'll tell you that. It was loud and clear. Not his job.'
Frannie was swirling her own glass. 'So who's investigating what happened to David? Have you talked to him?'
Surprised, Hardy sat back in his chair for a moment. Sometimes the obvious solutions could be the most elusive. Everything he'd told Frannie about the police prejudice against defense attorneys was absolutely true, but just that morning he'd actually encountered a great deal of cooperation from Hector Blanca. Maybe the General Work inspector would be the exception that proved the rule.
