Double Trouble (32 page)

“But in those places, you would have no chance to say so.” James leaned forward and held Jimmy’s gaze. He’d gotten through the first barrier of hostility and both boys were listening to him. “You would have no chance to defend yourself against malicious and false charges.”

“What’s malicious?” Johnny asked.

“Something mean or unfair. Something someone does just to be nasty to you.” James turned back to Jimmy. He wasn’t talking down to the kid at all, but his explanation was easy to understand. Even I was getting a better grip on why he did what he did.

Who would have guessed that James Coxwell was an idealist? I was glad I was sitting down, let me tell you.

“The system only works if both sides fight hard to bring out the truth,” James continued. “Truth plays hard-to-get sometimes, so the legal system errs on the side the innocent.”

“Guilty people can get off.” Jimmy was a devil’s advocate par excellence. Obviously it was a dominant Coxwell gene.

“If there isn’t sufficient proof of their guilt, yes,” James admitted. “But the flip side of that is that theoretically an innocent person could never be found guilty of something he or she didn’t do. There wouldn’t be enough proof to prove their guilt. You see? Sometimes guilty people get off, but that’s to make sure that innocent people don’t get convicted.”

He looked between his sons, both of whom were watching him avidly, checking that they understood. “What I do, or what I used to do, was make sure that the state had done their job properly. I found the holes in their arguments or the mistakes they’d made in their procedures. I found the places where there was reasonable doubt or where they had broken the law themselves or not respected someone’s rights. Rules only work when everybody follows them.”

“But crooks don’t follow them,” Johnny said.

“No. And in a way it’s not fair. But you see, the cops and the state and the good guys have to follow the rules, otherwise they’d be no better than the crooks. In a lawless society, there is no justice for anyone.” The boys thought about that for a moment.

“Have you ever helped a crook go free, Dad?” Johnny asked.

James looked at the floor, his expression dead serious. I thought he might lie, or at least gloss the truth, but he was straight with them. “The hardest case I ever had to defend was one in which the defendant was clearly guilty, but the police had not followed the rules in gathering the evidence they had against him.”

“What does that mean?” Johnny was clearly intrigued.

“We have a law that the police can’t just search your home because they feel like it. They have to get a warrant first, and they can only get a warrant if they have some good reason for needing one. They have to have some proof that there’s something in your house to find.”

Johnny moved to sit on the bed beside his father. “What if they don’t?”

“Then what they find doesn’t count.”

“Even if it’s bad stuff?”

James nodded. “When they don’t follow the rules, the evidence can’t be admitted to court. It can’t be used as proof.”

“Why don’t they just follow the rules all the time then?”

“Because most cops really want to catch bad guys.” He smiled at his son. “We all forget the rules sometimes when we’re sure that we’re right about something. Or when we get excited and think we have to act fast. But the law says that even bad guys have rights.”

“That’s dumb.” Johnny was disgusted by this.

“You wouldn’t think it was dumb if someone said that you were a bad guy.”

“But I’m not!”

“Exactly. Because of the law, you’d have a chance to say so. Innocent until proven guilty. My job, as well as that of all the other lawyers and judges, is to make sure that we don’t forget to follow the law, even when we think we know that we’re right. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s a very good one and it’s worth defending.”

Johnny thought about that. Jimmy, who had been watching this exchange, folded his arms across his chest defiantly. “What about Uncle Zach?”

I had to like the kid’s gusto. He went right for the heart of it and didn’t flinch. I was feeling pretty simpatico with this small adult.

James nodded, unperturbed. “You’re right. Your Uncle Zach was guilty and I knew it.”

“But you still got him off?”

James nodded again.

“See?” Jimmy’s triumph was short-lived.

“I do see. You’re right that I should never have helped him. I should never have gone to California. I was wrong, Jimmy, and I made a mistake. Thank you for making that clear to me.” The boy regarded his father warily and rightly so. James smiled slightly. “You know what happens next?”

“What?”

“I learn from my mistake and I don’t do it again.”

Jimmy worked the implications of that out but quick. “That’s not fair!”

“Yes, it is. That’s the issue here. What’s fair? What’s law? What’s right? Your point is a good one. Everyone has always saved your Uncle Zach from himself. And you know, it’s never done him any favors, I can see that now. He just gets into worse trouble all the time, because he doesn’t think any of it matters. Zach always figures someone else will fix it.” James eyed his son, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees as he dropped his voice. “Just like you’re doing right now.”

Jimmy folded his arms across his chest and tried out a glare on his dad. It wasn’t bad, but he was going to have to improve it to intimidate the shark.

“Maybe if somebody had made him understand that he was wrong the very first time, Zach wouldn’t still be getting into trouble,” James continued quietly. “He’d know that no one was going to fix it, because no one ever had. He might have to fix things himself.”

“You’re not going to fix this,” Jimmy said, his hostility clearly rising.

James shrugged. “No, you are.” He looked toward the kitchen. “Now, where do you think our pizza is?”

James stood up to leave and Jimmy lost it. He leapt onto the bed, looking a very furious ten years old now, and screeched at his father. “How can you do this to me? How can you be so
mean
?”

“Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind, or so they say.”

“Liar! Liar liar liar!” He stomped up and down the bed, in full tantrum mode. It was a telling reminder of his age. “I hate you and I hate this house and I hate having no trip and I hate having no stuff. I wish Mom had never left! She loved me! She would have bought me this. But she wasn’t here and you don’t love me, so I took it! I fixed it myself!”

James said nothing, just watched his son until Jimmy was red in the face and his tears were rising. “Maybe that’s the problem, Jimmy. Maybe it’s time someone said no to you.”

“Maybe it’s a lot of things,” I added, knowing from my own experience that no one person could ever be responsible for the choices a teenager makes.

The kid turned on me. “What do you know about it?” Jimmy sneered. “You just want to boink my dad. Maybe it’s
your
fault that Mom left.”

“Now, just a moment here...” James started to argue.

But Jimmy was furious. He turned his wrath loose on the one most obviously responsible for his woes. Me. “It’s you, it’s
your
fault. You made Mom leave, you made my Dad mad at me. You’ve ruined everything, you, you, you SLUT!”

Oh, I wanted to hit him. My fingers twitched. If he’d been a man, I would have.

But James moved fast. He snatched Jimmy up by the collar of his sweatshirt. lifted his toes off the floor, and gave him a shake. “Apologize. Now!”

“No!”

“Apologize to your aunt and do it quickly.” Well, there was some of Robert Coxwell in James. He gave Jimmy a look that must have curdled the kid’s blood.

But Jimmy lifted his chin, matching tit for tat. “Will you fix it?”

James smiled a cold courtroom smile. “You are not in a position to plea bargain.”

“Fix it and I’ll apologize.”

“I’m not going to negotiate with you.” Something in that steely gaze made the kid realize he was losing, and he changed his tactics.

“You have to fix it, Dad!” Begging. It was worth a shot.

“If not in the way you expect me to.”

Jimmy’s expression turned wary. “What does that mean?”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy said without a shred of sorrow in his voice.

James shook his head and gave Jimmy a shake, too. “Try again. You’re going to learn right now that you will never call any woman by that name, and that you will never insult your aunt again. Once more, with feeling.”

Jimmy took a breath to argue, but James interrupted whatever he might have said. “I strongly advise you to not push me any further, Mr. Jimmy Coxwell. Perhaps it would be timely to remind you—who did you call the night your mom left? Who did you call when you were afraid? Who dropped everything and took care of you?” He gave the boy a smaller shake, a chiding one. “You owe your aunt better than this and you know it. Don’t blame the person who caught you for your own crime.”

Jimmy blinked. The fight went out of his posture and he flicked a rebellious look at me. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

James put him on his feet. “Again. Clearly.”

Jimmy looked up at me, his expression finally contrite. “I’m sorry, Auntie Maralys.”

“I guess now you are,” I said.

Before anyone could get too cozy, James put a hand on Jimmy’s back and guided him to the door. En route, he plucked the toy from my hand. He was all business. “Now, we’ve got something to do. Get your coat, please.”

“Where are we going?” Jimmy asked, but he did what he was told.

“You’re the one who wanted it fixed.”

“Where are we going?”

“To wherever you got this.” The kid might have argued, but James gave him a death glare. “Time to learn how to fix things properly.”

“But...”

“No buts. Move it!” There was a pounding on the front door and James opened the door as he shrugged into his coat. He paid for the pizza, then passed it off to me. “Mind waiting for us?” His gaze flicked tellingly to Johnny.

“No, I’m starving. And I need to talk to you anyway. As much fun as this is, I didn’t come ‘round for the show.” I nudged Johnny and went for the light comment. “You guys had better hurry or we’ll eat it all, right Johnny?”

They marched out the door, determined dad and the rebel who had lost his cause, then Johnny and I headed back to the kitchen. I found plates and pop and glasses and paper towels, made him scrub his hands, then we settled down for a feast. Things were quiet, but I was thinking about James’ defense of his own choice of career.

I looked up to find Johnny staring at me, his eyes full of questions. He looked remarkably like a small version of his father. He chewed and swallowed, then tilted his head. “Are you really boinking my dad?”

I bit back a smile. “Do you even know what that means?”

He shook his head, blessedly mystified. “Is it like kissing?” He made a face that expressed his view of that.

“Kind of.”

“Gross! Why do you do it?”

“Well, people have sex—which is what you really call it—when they really like each other.”

His head tilted as he considered me. “Do you really like my dad? Even after that big fight?”

And because there was nobody else around to hear it, I made my confession. It wasn’t even that painful. “Yes. I really do like your dad.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t had that fight?”

“Well, fights are no fun, but your dad’s right. I’m kind of getting used to having you guys around.”

He smiled a smile that could light the city. “I like you too, Auntie Maralys.” Then he gave me a puzzled look. “Am I going to have to boink some girl one day, just because I like her?”

“No.” I laughed at his evident relief. “You should do it with someone who you like a lot, like your partner or your wife. You’ll know her when you meet her.” Leaving out the details and benefits of serial monogamy for the moment, I leaned across the table to snag another slice of pizza. “Trust me, one day you’ll meet a girl and when you think about kissing her, it won’t gross you out.”

Johnny rolled his eyes and used the tone all kids save for the particular stupidities of adults. “I don’t
think
so, Auntie Maralys.”

* * *

Jimmy and James came back, both quieter and less angry. James went into the living room and came back with a sheet of ledger paper. To my surprise, Jimmy still had the toy.

I understood when James wrote a hefty sum in the debit column of the ledger sheet, then put Jimmy’s name at the top and put the paper on the fridge door.

“You’re going to work this off, just like we agreed,” he said firmly. “In the real world, we save our money to buy things we want. You’ve done it backwards but you’re still going to pay for your toy.”

Jimmy looked up. “How?”

“By doing chores.”

His eyes lit. “I’ll take the garbage out for $100.”

“Fat chance. This is a good opportunity to learn the value of money. You’ll take the garbage out for twenty-five cents and you’ll only do it once a day, after dinner.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes and sat back, not that displeased with his circumstances that he could stop himself from running a hand over the toy. “It’ll take forever.”

“Pretty much,” James acknowledged. “I’ll type up a list tomorrow of chores, including what they’re worth and when they need to be done.” He scored a couple of slices of the chilly pizza and popped them on to plates, sliding one after the other into the microwave. He gave one to Jimmy, then sat down and bit into his own. I got them each a pop.

“Is this what Grandfather did when you wanted something?” Johnny asked.

“No,” James said. “He went with a flat fee allowance. We got a quarter a week each and had to do anything we were asked. If we bought anything that cost more than $5, we had to ask for his permission first.”

“I’m guessing he was a pushover,” I said. James smiled at me across the table. My dad was not a lot of fun when I was a kid, but he couldn’t touch the senior Coxwell for being a control freak. The kids missed the import of this exchange.

“What about me?” Johnny demanded. “I want one too.”

Ah, the spoils of crime were tempting.

James looked at his younger son. “You’re right.” He got another sheet of paper and put Johnny’s name on it, putting it on the fridge beside the first one. It had no opening debit. “You can buy whatever you want with what you earn.”