Killer Heat

Alex's availability. Let's try for next week. Can it wait until Monday, at eleven? And why don't you tell me the young lady's name?'

'I hate guns,' I said to Mercer. 'You know that.'

Laura was penciling in the appointment. 'Clarita Munoz. That's confirmed. You'll send up the paperwork and her contact information, Ed? Thanks a lot.'

'You're around guns too much not to know what to do with one,'

Mercer said as I opened the door and went to my desk.

The red light on my telephone hot line-the intercom that linked the district attorney directly to my desk-was flashing as I walked in the room.

'Paul?'

'What the hell went on between you and Herb Ackerman?'

'I had no time to tell you. You weren't in yet when I went up to court this morning.'

'Come on over right now,' Battaglia said. 'I need to know what he's got to be so sorry about.'

'What do you mean?'

'That's the note he left. 'Sorry for everything.' Herb Ackerman walked out your door, went up to his office at the Trib, and swallowed a bottle of pills. I didn't tell you to kill the man, Alex, did I?'

THIRTEEN

Madam Forelady,' Judge Lamont asked at 5:22 p.m., after waiting for Gene Grassley and me to arrive back in the courtroom, 'has the jury agreed upon a verdict?

'Yes, sir, we have.'

'Please rise, then, while my clerk records it.'

The jurors had filed in like a prosecution panel. None of them were smiling and none attempted any eye contact with the defendant. I stared straight ahead, my heart pounding as the first juror rose to deliver the news

How say you as to Floyd Warren, charged with robbery in the first degree?'

'Guilty.' Her voice was strong and clear.

Off to my right, Warren moved his chair closer to Gene Grassley and mumbled something.

'How say you as to Floyd Warren, charged with rape in the first degree?'

'Guilty,' she said, even louder this time.

'Bullshit.' I could hear Warren clearly now, and so did the two court officers standing behind him. Each took a step closer in.

For Kerry Hastings, who had never expected to see it, there would be some belated satisfaction. Floyd Warren would spend the rest of his life in prison.

The word guilty was repeated again and again. Sodomy, robbery, possession of a dangerous instrument-they had convicted him of every count in the indictment.

'Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, hearken to your verdict as it stands recorded,' the clerk said, continuing the official business of the trial.

Lamont made short work of thanking the jurors and dismissing them. He wanted the defendant put back in the holding pen as quickly as possible. Tomorrow, they would all read newspaper stories reporting the conviction and the links to more than fifty other brutal crimes from this city south to his adopted home in Georgia.

'I'm going to suggest to you, Gene, that we put this matter on the calendar for Monday,' Lamont said.

It was the practice to have three to four weeks between the verdict and the sentencing. 'I've got more than enough to work from, and I'm not going to ask Ms. Hastings to make another trip cross-country to present her impact statement. Ms. Cooper says her witness is willing to stay for the weekend and get this whole thing behind her. You going to fight me on this?'

'I hear you, Judge. That's fine.'

Floyd Warren pounded his fist on the table.

'I'll take your motions then. If there's nothing further,' Lamont said, 'we stand adjourned.'

I didn't break a smile until Mercer came into the courtroom and embraced me. 'This one must feel good,' he said.

'Especially sweet when you tally up the years and the number of victims. I want you to be the one to tell Kerry.'

He helped me pile my case folders and trial exhibits onto the shopping cart and wheeled it off to the elevators. 'We'll do it together.'

'Did you get an update from Mike on Herb Ackerman?'

'He'll live. They pumped his stomach at Roosevelt Hospital. His shrink told Mike it's the classic 'cry for help.' We should be able to see him in twenty-four hours. Don't let Battaglia's finger-pointing get to you. Take your victory lap tonight.'

Kerry Hastings was waiting for us at the elevator bank when the doors opened. She reached out to put her arms around Mercer's neck when he gave her a thumbs-up, crying as she buried her head against his chest.

'Let it out,' Mercer said. 'You've had all that emotion bottled up for way too long.'

'I may actually sleep through the night. You two have given me that privilege again.' Kerry Hastings was sniffling, still, but she was smiling through her tears. 'I know there used to be a tradition here, Alex. I never got a chance to participate in it the first time around.'

'What's that?'

'There was a little restaurant behind the courthouse. The cops said if we got a conviction, we'd all go there to celebrate. Does it still exist?'

'Forlini's. It was just a little hole in the wall back then,' I said. 'You bet it's still the best place in town to celebrate.'

Every DA in the office and every cop who'd ever testified at a trial had lifted glasses after victories, drowned their sorrows when bad guys beat the rap, and awaited verdicts late into the night at the restaurant that had been run by four generations of Forlinis since it was first established opposite the detention center known as the Tombs.

'Only if I can buy the drinks,' Hastings said.

'By the time we cross the street and walk in that bar,' Mercer said, 'the whole Sex Crimes Unit will be waiting for Alex. They'll be drinking to you whether we show up or not, Kerry. That's a tab you don't want.'

Laura had been fielding calls from my friends in the unit most of the day. Catherine Dashfer and Marisa Bourgis, Ryan Blackmer and Evan Krupin, Sarah Brenner and Nan Toth-one of the perks of Battaglia's office that outweighed the low salaries was the intensity of the camaraderie. These lawyers had seen me through the darkest hours of my career and were always available to cheer for one another when the guys in the white hats won a round.

It was almost six thirty by the time I closed up my office and took the short walk to Forlini's with Kerry, Mercer, and Laura.

We walked in the main door to the restaurant, but I could hear the crowd in the bar as soon as we entered. Mercer led Kerry past the jukebox and into the back room, jammed with regulars who stopped in most days for a cocktail on their way home, as well as with the people waiting for us.

When Ryan saw Mercer he started to cheer, and most people who recognized the popular detective joined in with applause. He got our drinks, rapped on the bar to quiet everyone, and held up his glass to clink against both of ours. 'To Kerry Hastings-for your courage. And your patience.'

She was overwhelmed by the reception, pleased to take her place on a stool and be congratulated by prosecutors and cops, most of whom were too young to fully comprehend the enormity of her triumph.

Mercer and I were making dinner plans with Hastings when the bartender handed me the portable phone.

'I tried your cell,' Mike said. 'You probably can't hear it over the noise of all those ice cubes knocking around in your glass. Nice job, Blondie.'