“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“You mean, a senior partner, in a major law firm, is sending a burglar out to burgle?”
“Really, we only want professionals among our clientele.”
“Isn’t Mr. Haller technically a member of the court?”
“He’s a half-decent golfer, and a doting grandparent.”
“Did the burglar accept this deal?”
“Of course. Where would his family be if he went to jail? Lock your doors tonight.”
“In other words, the burglar is now burglarizing on behalf of Habeck, Harrison and Haller.”
“If he’s going to be in this profession, obviously his professional fees and expenses have to be guaranteed.”
“Supposing he gets arrested again?”
“All the more work, and all the more fees, for Habeck, Harrison and Haller.”
“Alston, you’re making me sick.”
“I’m sure it’s not the sandwich you just ate affecting you. What could be more soothing to the stomach than peanut butter, banana, and mayonnaise? I must try it someday.”
“Frankly, I’m shocked. In the first place, that your man, Haller, who must have just heard that his partner had been shot dead in a parking lot, would sit down and have a serious discussion with any client, burglar or not.”
“It only took fifteen minutes. After the client is hooked by the senior partner, he is spun off to one of the lesser lawyers in the firm. The rent must be paid. The Mercedes must be maintained.”
“Alston, do you want a Mercedes?”
“My ambition for one is dimming.”
The waiter stood over them. “Would you gentlemen like some coffee, tea, or would you prefer sludge?”
“What kind of sludge do you have?” Fletch asked.
“Chocolate, vanilla.”
“No strawberry?” Alston said. “I wanted strawberry sludge.”
“No strawberry,” sighed the waiter.
“Guess I’ll have coffee,” said Fletch.
“I’ll have another beer,” said Alston. “Put a cherry in it this time, will you?”
“One coffee,” said the waiter. “One beer with a cherry.”
“Alston,” Fletch said, “I’d like to know anything you can find out about Donald Habeck. Anything you can tell me.”
“Only actually shook hands with him the day I was hired. A short, pudgy man—”
“I know,” Fletch said, adjusting his belt.
“Considered one of the most brilliant criminal trial lawyers in the country.”
“That’s the point. It can’t be too surprising a man with such a wide acquaintance among criminals ends up shot in a parking lot.”
“It is surprising,” Alston countered. “He’s the one person you’d think would be safe from that sort of thing. I should think all the villains around here would consider themselves indebted to him.”
“One coffee,” said the waiter. “One beer with a cherry in it.”
Fletch looked at Alston’s beer. “He actually put a cherry in it.”
“I wanted a cherry in it.”
“Are you going to eat it?”
“You’re eyeing my cherry.”
“Sorry.”
“I mean, just suppose this were a contract murder. A contract were put out to murder Habeck. Who’d accept it? Habeck’s defended most of the murderers worthy of the name.”
“Hey, a job’s a job.”
“From what I hear, professional hit men do not like to murder anyone they know, even people toward whom they have nothing but good feelings. Always afraid a connection might be made.”
“Someone who isn’t grateful to Habeck. Someone Habeck failed, defended improperly, lost the case. For example, I’d look for an ex-client of Habeck who got out of prison lately. Spent time nursing the grudge.”
“I doubt there is anyone like that.”
“There must be. Habeck can’t be successful every time he goes to court.”
“Successful in one way or another. Mr. Harrison, the other senior partner, once said to me, You can commit mass murder in front of witnesses, including police witnesses, and we can guarantee you’ll never go to prison for it. The police or district attorney can always be counted on to make some technical mistake, in the arresting process, indictment, in the gathering and presenting of evidence.’ ”
“He actually said that?”
“He actually said that.”
“That’s terrible.”
Alston shrugged. “The average policeman in this country has something like six weeks of formal training. The average defense lawyer has more like six years, if you add his internship in a law firm. And district attorneys are hopelessly overworked and understaffed.”
“How do people ever succeed in getting to jail?”
“They don’t hire Habeck, Harrison and Haller.”
“Alston, Habeck could not have won one hundred percent of the cases he brought to trial.”
“Pretty near, I’ll bet. He gets to choose his own cases. Thanks to plea bargaining, I’ll bet even those of his clients who are or have been in jail have been happy to go. On reduced charges, you know?” Alston quaffed his beer. “But, I’ll look.”
“Was Habeck a rich man?”
“Pretty rich. He knew where his next Bang and Olufsen was coming from.”
“Rich enough to give away five million dollars?”
“Is anybody that rich?”
“That’s how I first heard of him, this morning. He was coming in to see the publisher, John Winters. Habeck wanted to announce that he and his wife were giving five million dollars to the museum but he wanted it announced discreetly, whatever that means, so their privacy wouldn’t be invaded.”
“He’s never been the most flamboyant lawyer, this coast, but he’s never shunned publicity before.”
“I suspect he’s never given away five million dollars before.”
“That’s an awful lot of money.” Alston munched on his beer-soaked cherry.
“What does it mean when someone gives away five million dollars?”
“It means he ought to get lunch. At the minimum.”
“No, seriously.”
“It means he’s a philanthropist. Kindly. Generous. Has the well-being of the world in his heart.”
“Is that how you’d describe Donald Habeck?”
“No. As I say, I only met the man once. But that’s not how I’d describe him.”
“He was a partner in a law firm which keeps murderers out of jail and sends burglars out to burgle.”
“In this country, Fletch, everyone has the right to the best defense.”
“Come on, Alston. Not all law firms operate the way you describe Habeck, Harrison and Haller.”
“Not all. Many do.”
“Is it possible for Habeck to have earned so much money simply by being a lawyer?”
“Oh, yes. Over a lifetime. That and more.”
“Much more?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why was he giving away five million dollars?”
