‘Franny, do you want a lawyer?’
‘I am a lawyer.’
‘Then cut the shit and answer me! What was Artie Trudell so afraid of?’
‘I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about and maybe I don’t like what you’re suggesting-’
‘Sit down, Franny’
‘This is my office.’
I knocked him once in the shoulder then again, hard, in the chest. He fell into the desk chair with a clatter. He pushed himself back up, and I knocked him down again.
Kelly opened the door. He glanced at me standing over Boyle, who was sprawled awkwardly in his chair. ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I thought there might be a problem.’ He disappeared again.
‘You don’t like what I’m suggesting, Franny? Let me fill in the blanks so you know exactly what I’m suggesting. I don’t think Artie Trudell came to you for a real-estate closing because I don’t think you know shit from pound cake about real-estate closings. I think he came to you because you’re a DA, and the only reason to go to a DA is to report a crime.’
‘What crime?’
‘I don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out.’
‘Yeah? How are you going to do that?’
‘For starters, I’m going to talk to Julio Vega. Whatever Trudell knew, Vega knew. They were partners, remember?’
‘Vega’s a wing nut. The whole town knows it.’
‘At least he’s not crooked.’
This brought a glare. ‘Kid, you don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Maybe. But I know Trudell had information about Frank Fasulo and that cop who got killed at the Kilmarnock, and about the red-door cocaine and Raul. Trudell had all this information and he brought it to you because he thought you’d do something about it. He trusted you; he thought you’d do your job. But you didn’t do your job, at least not fast enough, and Trudell got killed. And I think Danziger figured it all out.’
Boyle smiled. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I think. And I think when it all comes out, everybody’s going to know the whole thing wasn’t Vega’s fault.’
He smiled and smiled.
The door opened again. This time it was Gittens. He took in the scene — which at the moment had me jabbing my index finger toward Boyle’s nose — and his eyebrows rose as if it were all a mild but not unpleasant surprise.
‘Everything alright in here?’
‘Yeah. Franny and I were just talking.’
Gittens studied us, then said, ‘Lowery wants to see you, Ben.’
47
‘You probably think there’s some grave injustice going on here.’
‘I don’t know exactly what to think, Mr Lowery’
‘That’s a politic answer. Are you being politic with me, Chief Truman?’ Lowery was standing at the window with his back to Kelly and me. But with this question he twisted to face me, coiling at the waist as if his handmade shoes were nailed to the floor. ‘Or are you being honest?’
‘Honest, sir.’
‘I’m not sure I believe you. I have a sneaking suspicion you know more than you’re saying.’
Lowery returned his attention to the window. Before him was the downtown skyline with City Hall in the foreground and a wall of office towers behind it. The view from the District Attorney’s office was fine, with three TVs to keep an eye on things. It occurred to me that Lyndon Johnson famously watched three TVs at once. Maybe Lowery was aware of that.
‘The rube is running a con on the city slickers,’ Lowery ruminated. ‘Well, it serves us right, I suppose, after what we put you through.’ He sighed. ‘Chief Truman, I want you to understand my position.’
‘You don’t owe me any explanations, Mr Lowery.’
‘You’re right — I don’t owe you anything. It’s not about owing. It’s about responsibility, Chief Truman. You were in the archives this morning fishing around in the Trudell file.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I presume you think there’s some connection to Danziger’s murder.’
‘There might be.’
‘There might be. I see. You don’t think Braxton did it?’
‘I’m not 100-percent certain, no.’
‘Did you expect to be 100-percent certain?’
‘Ideally’
He thought it over. ‘Ben, I’m an old trial lawyer, and at the end of every trial, do you know what the judge tells the jury? He tells them they must find the defendant guilty “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Think about that, “beyond a reasonable doubt.” Not beyond all doubt; beyond a reasonable doubt. See, there is never 100-percent certainty. Doubt is built into the system. It is a wonderful system but it is administered by humans, so there will always be doubt and error. We have to accept that. We have no choice. None of us has a monopoly on the truth, none of us has a window to the past. We look at the evidence, we make our best guess, and we pray we’ve done the right thing. It’s an awesome responsibility, Ben.’
‘It is, sir.’
‘We pick the man we’re going to accuse, and then it doesn’t matter if we’re 100-percent sure or only 51- percent sure. Once we choose our man, once we choose our version of the case, that becomes our gospel, that becomes the one true faith.’
‘Yes, sir.’
I glanced at Kelly, who was seated in the leather chair beside my own. He stared up at the ceiling as if balancing an object on his nose. A little wisenheimer smirk played around his mouth. The District Attorney might have been droning on about the Treaty of Ghent or the reproductive habits of Galapagos tortoises, for all Kelly cared.
‘You have some doubts that Harold Braxton is guilty, Chief Truman?’
‘I do.’
‘Let them go.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Let them go. Braxton is the one.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I know because I’ve been doing this a long time. There’s enough evidence here to convict Braxton three times over for killing Bobby Danziger. Hell, I’ve won cases that weren’t half as strong. You don’t need the Trudell case. Just let it go. Believe me, it’s a cleaner case without going back and dredging up a ten-year-old case that has nothing to do with this. It’s cleaner for the jury and it’s better for this city.’ The District Attorney turned to face me, to gauge my reaction. ‘What we do here has a political dimension, Ben. Surely you understand that. Right now the races in this city get along beautifully. Crime is down across the board, the police are respected, African-American communities are doing better than they ever have. Meanwhile in other cities, New York, L.A., the police are distrusted — no, they’re hated. It’s a political decision, Ben, and I mean that in the best, noblest sense.
‘Now, when I present my findings — and even if the case is prosecuted in Maine, I’m going to have to tell the people of this city something — I’m going to tell the public just what the evidence shows: that this was Braxton and no one else. I’m not going to drag up the past.’
‘The past is always getting dragged up, sir.’
