He was dead as he stood.
36
Elliot Steere sat behind the thick bulletproof window in the interview room and watched with masked amusement as Judy Carrier tried to interrogate him. She was a young woman, and her bowl haircut and oversized features made her look like an oversized rag doll. Carrier had been questioning him for almost fifteen minutes and had managed to keep her temper even as she got nowhere. Steere could see from her expression that she was growing angry and desperate. A potentially troublesome combination, even in toys.
'I want to know what the fuck is going on,' Carrier was saying. She stood behind the chair on her side of the window and gripped the backrest. Steere noticed her right hand was bandaged but didn't mention it.
'I am on trial for murder and awaiting a verdict.'
'You didn't tell us the truth.'
'I didn't tell you anything. You're a junior associate on my defense. I deal with Marta.'
'Where is Marta?'
'I don't know.'
'Who shot Mary?'
'I don't know.'
'What does street money have to do with Eb Darning? What do you have to do with Eb Darning?'
'What's street money?'
Judy's anger bubbled to the surface. 'You don't know what happened to Mary, you don't know what happened to Marta. You don't know the 'driver' who took Marta to the office and you can't explain how you knew the traffic light was red. For a man who's supposed to have all the answers, you don't know jack shit.'
Steere brushed smooth a wrinkle in his pants. 'If this is what you interrupted me for, I'll go back to my cell.'
'Someone's trying to kill your lawyers. Why do I get the feeling it's you?'
'Absurd.'
'You know what I think? I think you're a murderer. I think you murdered Eb Darning and I think you hired somebody to kill my best friend.'
'You're not talking like my lawyer, Ms. Carrier.' Steere stood up and shook down his pant legs. 'I'm going back to my cell. Do not call for me until the jury has returned.'
'You expect me to go forward as your trial counsel?'
'Expect it? I insist on it.'
'I knew you would.' Judy folded her arms and her blue eyes narrowed. 'The last thing you want is a mistrial or a continuance, am I right?'
'Correct. The jury has the case. My name must be cleared.'
'And if I don't want to clear it? If I withdraw from the case?'
'I'll oppose. My constitutional—'
'I figured as much. That's why I wrote this.' Judy pulled a packet of papers from her inside pocket and pressed them through the slot in the bulletproof window. 'It's handwritten. Not the prettiest motion in the world, but it'll do the trick.'
Steere glanced at the papers without touching them. 'What is this?'
'A motion for a mistrial. Considering what's happened to my co-counsel, I have reason to believe my life is in danger. It's an emergency motion.'
Steere tried to suppress his smile. 'Since when are your fears legal grounds for a mistrial?'
'Since now. I'm not too worried about precedent on this one. There's no law on what happens when someone uses the defense team for target practice. I'm not one for precedent anyway. When you're right, you'll win. Case law or no.'
'Very interesting, but you can't file a motion without my approval. And I'm not giving my approval to any such motion.'
'Too bad. I already filed it.'
Steere paused momentarily. 'You didn't.'
'Yepper. I left it under the door of the clerk of the court's office downstairs, timed and dated.' Judy checked her watch. 'The motion is filed as of five minutes ago. I'll serve the D.A. and the judge as soon as I leave here. It'll be of record in the morning.'
Steere appraised her anew as they stood tall on either side of the divider.
'Your only choice is to fire me. Either way, I'm no longer your lawyer and I get my mistrial.' Judy grinned, and Steere noticed the gaps between her teeth.
How unattractive, he thought.
37
Marta couldn't stop shaking. Her left hand trembled around the pritchel and she forced the tool into her pocket. She crouched on the wooden bench in the shower stall and waited for her tremors to subside. She had killed a man, self-defense or not. The legal excuse didn't alter the moral question. The quivering in her muscles taught her that lesson, and she knew it was one she would never forget.
Marta was a killer now. The thought nauseated her. Frightened her. She thought back through the clients she
