Julie wasn't in the library when I returned. On my side of the desk was a memo from Bob Kettleson. He wanted me to research a complicated municipal corporation issue before the end of the day. I read the memo again, thankful that I'd completed the course in law school and received an A.
Shortly before noon, the library door opened. I looked up, expecting to see Julie. It was Vince.
'Lunch plans?' he asked.
I smiled. 'Thanks, but I don't have time for a long meal. Bob Kettleson needs an answer to a question, and I have a hearing in my criminal case this afternoon.'
'My appointed case is on the calendar too,' he said. 'The client is going to pay a speeding fine and replace his muffler in return for dismissal of the racing charge.'
'I wish my case was so simple,' I sighed.
'What's the problem?'
I eyed Vince for a moment. He was smart and less likely than Zach to try to impose his will on me in a condescending way. His input might be helpful.
'I'll tell you if we can grab a quick sandwich.'
'I know a place,' he replied.
While notifying the receptionist that we were leaving for lunch, I glanced up the staircase and saw Zach looking down at us. He quickly walked away.
It was hot outside, and Vince started his car with his remote as soon as we left the building.
'It won't do much good,' he said, opening the car door for me. 'But it's a nice thought.'
He drove a few blocks to a deli near the river. There was a parking place directly in front on the curb.
'Do you ever pray for parking spots?' he asked.
'No, I don't own a car.'
'That will change once you graduate and get a job,' Vince said.
'I wonder where I'll be.'
'Why not here?'
There was no tactful way to mention what Julie and I knewVince would be the summer clerk offered an associate attorney job.
'We'll see,' I said.
The deli featured a dizzying selection of meats, cheeses, and breads. Vince waited while I looked at the menu.
'Could I order for you?' he asked.
'Sure. You did fine with lunch yesterday.'
'Is there anything you don't like?'
'Chicken livers. My mother has cooked them every way possible, but I always have trouble convincing my mouth to send one down my throat.'
Vince placed the order, and I watched a man behind the counter slice two types of meat, three kinds of cheese, and add an assortment of unknown condiments to a piece of dark bread. We took our food and drinks to a booth for two next to a window. I could see the river glinting between two buildings. Vince prayed. I took a bite of the sandwich.
'This isn't dull at all,' I said after I'd chewed and swallowed a bite. 'I'm not used to a sandwich like this having much flavor.'
'Okay. Do you want to tell me about your case?'
I had the sandwich halfway up to my mouth. I stopped. 'Not until I eat.'
Vince made a few comments while we ate. He seemed more relaxed than the previous day, and I realized he might have been nervous during our lunch. The thought that a man would be nervous around me suddenly hit me as funny, and I laughed.
'What is it?' Vince asked, quickly touching a napkin to his mouth. 'Is there sauce dripping off my chin?'
'No.' I sipped my drink. 'You're fine. It was a private thought about me.'
I ate most of the sandwich and wished I could give what remained to the twins. They would have turned up their noses until coaxed into trying a bite.
'Now, tell me about State v. Jones,' Vince said.
'You remember the name of my case?'
'Your client is charged with multiple counts of trespassing, and Julie's client, Mr. Ferguson, was allegedly impersonating a watermeter reader.'
'Why am I surprised?' I shrugged.
I began with the first interview. As I talked, I had the impression Vince would remember more about the case than I would.
'Did Jones say anything else about the man named Carpenter?'
'No.'
'Have you done any research at the courthouse or on the Internet?'
'No.'
Vince looked at his watch. 'We need to get back to the office. Let me think about it.'
With Vince, I knew the statement wasn't a put-off.
I was able to deliver a memo to Kettleson with fifteen minutes to spare before leaving for the courthouse. I opened my State v. Jones folder and reviewed my notes. I knew if a plea bargain wasn't reached with the district attorney, Moses would be expected to plead not guilty to the charges. I ran over in my mind Moses' argument that he couldn't be convicted of trespassing because the river belonged to God. If that was true, the posts put there by man were the real trespassers. Even a summer clerk couldn't make that argument to a jury of sane adults. I went upstairs to Zach's office. He was pulling his tie tighter around his neck.
'I'm ready,' I said.
'Really? Did you contact the homeowners I hadn't interviewed?'
'No.'
'I did. One of them will be in the courtroom.'
Zach picked up his briefcase. 'I'll fill you in on the way over there.'
As I followed Zach to the first floor of the office, two thoughts crossed my mind. Both Zach and Vince were smarter than I was; however, Vince didn't go out of his way to remind me.
21
'YOU'RE KIDDING,' I SAID, STANDING BESIDE ZACH'S BLACK motorcycle with the sidecar attached.
Zach handed me the helmet I'd worn on Saturday. 'Ride or walk. It's not very far. I didn't unhook the sidecar after our ride to Tybee Island.'
'But you knew we had the arraignment calendar today. You could have driven your car.'
'Maybe I forgot,' he said with a grin.
I debated whether to go back inside and request use of the law firm car, but when I looked around the lot it wasn't there. I took the helmet.
'This isn't funny,' I said, slipping it over my head.
Zach put on his helmet and spoke into the microphone. 'We'll be able to park close to the entrance. There are special spaces reserved for motorcycles.'
I didn't answer. Refusing his offer of a hand to steady me, I got into the sidecar as gracefully as I could. Zach turned on the motor and backed up. As he did, a car passed behind us as it entered the lot. I turned my head and saw Julie, her mouth gaping open, staring at me from the passenger seat.
'Do you want to know what the homeowner told me?' Zach asked.
'Tell me after we get there.'
The pleasure I'd felt toward the end of the motorcycle ride on Saturday didn't return during the short, bumpy trip to the courthouse. I clutched the Jones file in my lap and looked straight ahead. I didn't have to wonder if every
