Kill All the Lawyers

'Look, dickwad. I'm not throwing stones here. Hell, I was blowing guys behind the school gym when I was twelve. Don't get so self-righteous. Kids will be kids.'

'I've heard about you,' Eva said. 'You don't even know who Bobby's father is.'

'Hey, let's call it a night.' Steve spoke up, not on his sister's behalf, but for Bobby. The kid had enough problems without these kinds of insults. 'C'mon, everybody's nerves are frayed.'

'Chingate, shyster,' Eva hissed. 'I heard all about you on the radio. And I know about your father, the dirty judge.'

'Let's leave family out of this,' Steve cautioned.

'Coke whore. Shyster. Dirty judge. A whole family of degenerates.'

'Let the bitch who is without sin cast the first stone,' Janice said.

Eva gestured with the gun. 'What's that supposed to mean, puta?'

'Jesus loves you. Everybody else thinks you're a twat.'

Eva took a step forward, but Janice swung first. A combination punch and lunge, astonishingly quick for a woman her size. The punch grazed Eva's cheek, and she probably wouldn't have fallen, except Janice plowed forward, head down. Janice's beefy shoulder caught Eva squarely in the chest. An oomph, and both women tumbled to the ground, the Uzi flying into a planter filled with impatiens. The two men were left looking at each other, wondering if they were supposed to throw some punches, too.

'Boob job! Boob job!' Janice screeched as she straddled Eva, the smaller woman's robe thrown open.

'Jesus, Janice, get off her!' Steve said.

'Don't take the Lord's name in vain,' Janice scolded.

'Requetegorda!' Eva screamed. 'Get off me!'

'Ladies, please,' Myron begged.

It was all too surreal, Steve thought. Was he hearing things? Did his sister, who had had her bat mitzvah at Temple Emanu-el all those years ago, just call Jesus 'the Lord'?

'How much those hooters set you back?' Janice demanded, holding Eva's robe open. 'I was thinking about getting me a pair as soon as I have the liposuction.'

'Puta fea,' Eva wheezed, Janice sitting on her gut.

'Christ Almighty,' Myron Goldberg said.

'Yes, he is,' Janice replied.

'Janice, what's all this religious stuff?' Steve asked.

'Jews for Jesus, little brother. In prison, I recognized the true messiah.'

'No way.'

'Cross my heart.'

It just kept getting crazier, Steve thought. A father who'd gone ortho and a sister who'd Jesus-freaked. Just then he caught a flash of movement.

'Look out, Mom!' Bobby shouted.

Myron had picked up the Uzi.

A Jewish periodontist with an Uzi!

Unless the guy was in the Israeli Army, this was a prescription for disaster. Myron seemed to be trying to figure out how to wrap his hand around the pistol grip when Steve took a quick step and uncorked a right-hand punch. His fist caught Myron Goldberg squarely on the chin. Myron fell in a heap, dropping the Uzi.

Steve felt a throbbing pain in his wrist.

On the ground, Myron moaned.

Janice slid off Eva, who was cursing in Spanish. 'You did good, little brother,' Janice said. 'Hey, Bobby. Me and Stevie make a great team, huh?'

'We are not a team.' Steve shook his wrist, but the throbbing only increased.

'We're on God's squad,' Janice said blissfully.

Myron shakily got to his feet, holding his jaw, saying something that sounded like 'law- shute.'

A police siren drowned him out.

'Gotta split,' Janice said, heading for her truck.

'Hey, sis. Stick around for the cops. I might need a friendly witness.'

'He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity,' she said, without emotion, like an evangelical zombie. 'He shall have judgment without mercy that hath showed no mercy.'

'Nice sermon. What's it mean?'

She dropped her bulk into the driver's seat of the muddy green pickup and started the engine. 'You're on your own, little brother.'

Twenty-Six

CALL ME IRRESPONSIBLE

Victoria thought she should be both delicate and diplomatic. She could say: 'I question your judgment in striking Myron Goldberg.' Or perhaps: 'For someone still facing assault charges, your conduct might be considered somewhat ill-advised.'

But she settled on: 'You're a child! An undisciplined, self-indulgent child.'

'C'mon, Vic. I was the peacemaker.'

'You're probably guilty of trespassing. And definitely assault and battery.'

'I handled it. The cops interviewed me, then headed off to Krispy Kreme.'

'So you're not being charged?'

'They're still investigating.'

'I should talk to Dr. Goldberg,' she said. 'Try to talk him out of filing charges.'

'I should sue him.' Steve held up his swollen right hand. 'My wrist is sprained.'

They were stuck in traffic on South Bayshore Drive on a muggy autumn morning. Thankfully, Steve had put the top up on the Mustang, or her hair would resemble a floor mop. They were trying to work their way out of Coconut Grove on the morning after the reappearance of Janice, the nabbing of Bobby, and the near-arrest of Steve.

Just another day in the saga of the Solomon family. Do I really belong here?

Steve was like a trapeze artist working without a net. Sooner or later, he would fall. Would she catch him or be squashed by him?

Okay, if Steve's a trapeze artist, what am I?

The gal in tights who rides the prancing elephant?

No, the poor gal following the elephant with the shovel and pail.

She had picked up the circus metaphors from Marvin the Maven, the octogenarian leader of the Courthouse Gang, an unabashed admirer of Steve. Marvin had once told her why he followed Steve from courtroom to courtroom. 'With Steverino, it's like the circus. You never know when a dozen clowns are gonna fall out of a little yellow car.'

But Steve's courtroom antics were usually planned and made some sense, even if they were borderline unethical. These latest actions-clobbering Arnold Freskin and now Myron Goldberg-made Victoria feel that Steve was out of control.

'How's Bobby doing?' she asked.

'Better, I think. He's calmed down.'

'Do you want me to talk to him? About girls, I mean.'

'Already did. A speech about being a gentleman, respecting girls. I also told him I was disappointed he didn't tell me about Janice the Junkie coming around.'

She shot him a look.

'I didn't call her that,' he said hastily. ' 'Your loving mother' is what I said. 'How could you sneak off