“Under the same set of facts, yes.”
“Oh, we’re talking about the same facts. Nothing has changed. What about forty times? Forty blows to the head of a man who’s clearly unconscious. Still legally insane, Doc?”
“Yes.”
“This defendant showed no signs of stopping after only twenty-two. What if he landed a hundred shots to the head, Doc? Still legally insane in your book?”
Taslman earns his money with “The greater number of punches is clearer evidence of a deranged mind.”
It’s Friday afternoon and there’s no way we can finish the trial today. Like most judges, Go Slow likes to jump-start the weekend. She warns the jurors about unauthorized contact and recesses early. As the jurors file out, Esteban Suarez glances my way one more time. It’s as if he’s still looking for the envelope. Bizarre.
I spend a few minutes with Tadeo and recap the week. He still insists on taking the stand, and I tell him that will probably happen Monday morning. I promise to stop by the jail on Sunday and go through his testimony. I repeat my warning that it’s never a good idea for the accused to testify. He’s taken away in handcuffs. I spend a few minutes with his mother and family and answer their questions. I’m still pessimistic but I try to hide it.
Miguel follows me out of the courtroom and down a long hallway. When no one is listening, he says, “Suarez is waiting. Contact confirmed. He’ll take the money.”
“Ten grand?” I ask, just to make sure.
“Sí, senor.”
“Then go for it, Miguel, but just leave me out of it. I’m not bribing a juror.”
“I guess then, senor, that I need a loan.”
“Forget it. I don’t make loans to clients, and I don’t make loans that’ll never be repaid. You’re on your own, pal.”
“But we took care of those two thugs for you.”
I stop and glare at him. This is the first time he’s mentioned Link’s boys—Tubby and Razor. Slowly, I say, “For the record, Miguel, I know nothing about those two. If you whacked ’em, you did it on your own.”
He’s smiling and shaking his head. “No, senor, we did it as a favor for you.” He nods to Partner in the distance. “He asked. We delivered. Now we need the favor returned.”
I take a deep breath and stare at a huge stained-glass window the taxpayers paid for a century earlier. He has a point. Two dead thugs are worth more than ten grand, at least in the currency of the street. The breakdown comes with the communication. I didn’t request two dead thugs. But now that I benefit from their demise, am I obligated to return the favor?
Suarez is probably wearing a wire and maybe even a camera. If the money can be traced to me, then I’m disbarred and headed for prison. I’ve had close calls before, and I prefer life on the outside. I swallow hard and say, “Sorry, Miguel, but I will not be involved.”
I turn and he grabs my arm. I shake him off as Partner approaches. Miguel says, “You’ll be sorry, senor.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. A promise.”
There are fights tonight, but I’ve seen enough bloodshed for one week. I need to find another sport, and at the moment it happens to be chasing the most lovely Naomi Tarrant. Since we’re still meeting on the sly, or at least afraid of being seen by someone who might recognize her as a teacher, we are visiting dark bars and low-end restaurants. Tonight we go to a new place, a Thai restaurant east of town, far away from the school where Naomi teaches Starcher. We are confident we will not be seen by anyone we know.
Not quite. Naomi sees her first, and since she can’t believe it, she asks me to verify. It’s not easy because we don’t want to get caught. The restaurant is sufficiently dark and it has a series of meandering nooks and alcoves. It’s a great place to hide and have a meal without seeing many people. As Naomi returns from the ladies’ room, she sees three booths in the rear of a dining room. Seated in one of them, side by side and deep in conversation, are Judith and another woman. Not Ava, the current partner, but someone else. A curtain of beads is partially closed at the booth and blocking some of the view, but she is certain it’s Judith. Common sense would say that the two women, if only friends or associates or colleagues, would be sitting across the table from each other. But these two women are shoulder to shoulder and lost in another world, according to Naomi.
I sneak around to the men’s room, duck behind some fake potted plants on a shelf, and see what I desperately want to see. I hustle back to the table and confirm it all with Naomi.
I consider leaving and avoiding an embarrassing situation. We don’t want Judith to see us, and I’m absolutely certain she doesn’t want us to see her.
I consider sending Naomi to the car, then crashing Judith’s little rendezvous. How cool it would be to watch her melt and start lying. I’ll ask about Ava, send my regards.
