“Unlike you, I work for a living. I’ve been in trial the last four days. We still got one more day of witnesses, then closing arguments on Friday.”
“You gonna win?”
“Only if I can explain a miracle.”
Jack took a minute to fill him in. His client was an accused serial stalker, not the kind of case Jack would ordinarily take, but the guy seemed to be getting a raw deal. The government’s star witness was a woman who’d claimed to have seen him running from her building, even though he’d spent the last ten years in a wheelchair. The prosecutor claimed he wasn’t paralyzed at all, just a fat and lazy pig who liked to buzz around town in a motorized wheelchair. “The Lazy Stalker,” the media had dubbed him, and a dozen organizations were speaking out to protect the rights of stalking victims, the physically challenged, and the obese alike. Then came the first day of trial-the day of “the miracle.” His wheelchair set off the metal detector at the courthouse entrance, so the idiot stood up and walked around the machine. Jack was left scrambling to salvage the case.
Theo yawned into his fist. “Can we just talk about Jessie Merrill? The rest of your life is way too fucking ridiculous.”
“You have such a way about you.”
“Least I don’t talk shit. You trying to tell me that for past week you haven’t even thought about these Viagra-kill investors?”
Jack chuckled. “You just can’t get that word, can you?”
“What?”
“’Viagra-kill?’ We’re not talking about a terminal case of erectile dysfunction. It’s ‘viatical.’”
“What the hell kind of word is that, anyway?”
“Latin. The
“And I guess some of the soldiers live to fight another day. Like Jessie Merrill.”
Jack poured some ketchup on his french fries. “She called me.”
“When?”
“The day after we went to see Mrs. Marsh. She admitted it was a scam.”
“Hot damn. Now we got her.”
“No. We don’t
“What?”
“What’s done is done. It’s not my place to fix it.”
“Aw, come on. Think in these terms: How much did she pay you in legal fees?”
“I gave her the friend’s rate. Flat fee, twenty grand.”
“There you go, my man. I can get you twenty times that much now.”
“I’m sure you could. But that would be extortion, now wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t care what you call it. You can’t just let her get away with this.”
“I don’t have a choice. I was her lawyer. All I can do at this point is be content with the knowledge that, yes, I was played for a sucker. If I start looking for something more than that, it’s going to be trouble.”
“Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“I need to move on with my life.” As soon as he’d said it, he realized he’d used Jessie’s own words.
Theo leaned closer, elbows on the table. “Did she and that doc threaten you?”
“It’s not important.”
“It is to me. Let me talk to her. She thinks she can threaten us, I’ll straighten her out.”
“Don’t. The best thing I can do for myself right now is to forget about Jessie Merrill and the whole damn thing.”
The deep thump of a bass guitar warbled over the speakers. Theo’s band was tuning up for the first set. He pushed his empty bowl of chili aside and said, “You really think she’s going to let you?”
“Let me what?”
“Forget her.”
“Well, yeah. She’s got her money. Got no more use for me.”
Theo chuckled.
“What are you laughing at now?” said Jack.
Theo rose, tossed his napkin aside. The bass had broken into a rhythm, the drums and trumpet were joining in. “Hear that?” asked Theo.
“Yeah, so?”
“They’re playing your song. Yours and Jessie’s.” He snapped his fingers to the beat. The song had no lyrics, but he sang out part of the album title anyway:
Theo was only half-smiling. Jack just looked at him and asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You got this old-girlfriend thing going on. Cuttin’ her legal fees, cuttin’ her a break. I’m talking about some kind of a strange love-hate thing going on here.
“That’s bull.”
“Sure it is. But something tells me you ain’t heard the last of Jessie Merrill. Not by a long shot, Jacko. Call me after your trial. Or after this squirrel comes back again for your nuts. Whichever comes first.”
Jack watched from his table, alone, as Theo and the rest of the crowd moved closer to the music.
10
•
Good night, Luther.” The security guard started. Having worked two jobs for eleven years to support a wife and eight children, Luther was a master at sleeping with his eyes wide open. “’Night, Mr. Swyteck.”
The final day of evidence at trial hadn’t done “The Lazy Stalker” any good. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the Jessie disaster, but an embarrassing loss was the last thing he needed. He’d stayed at the office till almost midnight trying to rustle up a gem of a closing argument that would at least keep the jury out a few hours. The case was still a definite loser, but you do the best you can with the facts you’re dealt. That was every good lawyer’s mantra. It was what sustained you from one day to the next. That, and a good Chinese restaurant with late-night delivery.
“Good luck tomorrow,” said Luther.
“Thanks.”
Jack stepped through the revolving door and into the night. It was warm and muggy for February, even by Coral Gables standards. The rain had stopped an hour or so earlier, but Ponce de Leon Boulevard was still glistening wet beneath the fuzzy glow of street lamps. A cat scurried across the wide, grassy island that separated eastbound traffic from westbound, except that at this hour there was no traffic. Storefronts were dark on both sides of the street. At the corner, the last of the guests at Christy’s steakhouse were piling into a taxi. The humidity flattened their wine-induced laughter, making them seem much farther away than they were. Jack started up the sidewalk to the parking lot.
The car was still wet from the rain. As much as he loved his Mustang, rainstorms and thirty-year-old convertibles were no match made in heaven. He opened the door and wiped down the seat. He could have cursed the dampness that was seeping up through the seat of his pants, but the beautiful sound of that V-8 made all well again. He threw it into reverse, then slammed on the brake. Another car had raced up behind him and stopped, blocking his passage.
The door flew open, and the driver ran out. It was dark, and before Jack could even guess what was going on, someone was banging on his passenger-side window.
“Let me in!”
