Every Reasonable Doubt (22 page)

“I’m not mad at you,” I said half-heartedly. While I wasn’t willing to concede that all of her pronouncements applied to me, some of what she was saying definitely hit home.

T
he few months leading up to the Montgomery trial passed in a flash. Neddy, David, and I spent nearly every waking hour together, plotting, planning, and strategizing.

We agreed that Neddy would do the opening and closing arguments and most of the key witnesses, while David and I would divide up the rest. David wasn’t all that happy about the arrangement since it basically made my role equal to his, but there was nothing he could do about it. Whenever there was a dispute over trial strategy, David and I deferred to Neddy’s judgment and experience, letting her resolve any stalemates.

I arranged to meet Neddy for lunch the Saturday before the start of the trial at Aunt Kizzy’s Back Porch, a soul food restaurant in Marina Del Rey that was usually packed with as many whites as blacks.

“You ready, girl?” I asked, meeting her outside the restaurant and giving her a hearty hug. Neddy was dressed in a burnt orange blouse and loose-fitting taupe slacks. She looked amazing. Her hair was texturized and her stylish cut—curly on top and faded along the sides and back—made her look much younger. She was even wearing a cute bronze lipstick. We walked inside and were seated right away.

“As ready as I’m going to be,” she said. “What about you?”

“Scared, but ready to roll,” I said.

“You don’t have anything to be scared about.” She reached over and squeezed my forearm.

“Oh, yes I do. If you make a misstep during trial, it’ll be no big deal. But if I do, you can bet O’Reilly’ll never let me live it down. It might even cost me partnership. Don’t forget that I practically had to get down on my knees and beg the man to let me stay on the case.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ve got backup.”

A waitress interrupted us to take our orders. Every dish on the menu was named after a relative of the owner. I chose Uncle Wade’s baked beef short ribs with collard greens and macaroni and cheese, and Neddy ordered Cousin Willie Mae’s smothered pork chops with black-eyed peas and cabbage.

“When’s the last time you talked to Tina?” I asked, grabbing a cornbread muffin from a basket on the table.

“This morning,” Neddy said, shaking her head. “And she’s getting more and more neurotic by the minute. Between dealing with her and Julie, I’m the one who should be ready to have a nervous breakdown. If I see Julie’s face on TV one more time, I’m going to blow.”

“I’m surprised the reporters haven’t been trying to interview you.”

“I’ve gotten a few calls, but you know how I hate trying my cases in the press. They love you one minute and slam you the next. There’s not a reporter in this town I trust.”

A waitress set Mason jars filled with lemonade on the table. “Well, do you have any last-minute advice for me, counselor?”

“Yep. Just do me one favor,” she said, pausing to measure her next words. “Please try to get along with David.”

I pouted. “Why aren’t you asking him to try to get along with me?”

“I already have. If you guys behave like you’ve been acting for the past few weeks, the jury’s definitely going to pick up on it and it could affect how they view our defense.”

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll try not to slug him in open court. You got your opening statement memorized?”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m giving one. Sometimes it’s best for the defense to waive opening statement until after the prosecution has closed its case.”

I was surprised. The opening and closing argument were often the most dramatic part of the trial. It was a lawyer’s chance to use emotion rather than fact to sway the jury. “Why would you do that?”

She had a troubled look on her face. “I just have a feeling we’re going to get some surprises from Ms. Julie. If I make an opening statement saying I’m going to prove X, Y, and Z, and Julie throws me for a loop and I can’t back up what I said in my opening, then I’ve lost my credibility with the jury.”

“What’s the downside to not giving an opening?”

She took a sip of water. “The main downside is that the jury’ll probably assume we don’t have a strong defense. And it’s not that I’m not going to do an opening, I’m just going to wait until after the prosecution closes its case.”

“That’s a tough call,” I said, glad that it wasn’t mine to make.

She clasped her hands together and rested her elbows on the table. “My biggest concern is still this tightrope we’re walking about Tina’s knowledge of her husband’s affairs. Like I said before, Julie can easily produce a parade of witnesses who can testify that Max was screwing women from coast to coast. But based on the names on her witness list right now, not a single person can verify that Tina actually knew about his infidelities. Without proving Tina’s knowledge, the prosecution has no motive.”

The three of us had spent hours arguing over this strategy. Both David and I thought it was dangerous, not to mention unethical, to skate around the issue of whether Tina knew about her husband’s affairs. It was the one thing, the only thing, David and I were in complete agreement about.

“Well, you certainly know my view on tiptoeing around that issue,” I said, knowing that I wasn’t going to be able to convince Neddy to change her mind. “There’s no way we can ethically introduce any testimony that Tina didn’t know about her husband’s affairs. It would be a blatant lie.”

Neddy glanced over her shoulder, then to the left and right. The tables on both sides of us were empty. “We’re not going to lie or do anything unethical,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Assuming the prosecution fails to call any witnesses who can confirm Tina’s knowledge of Max’s affairs, all I’m going to do in my closing is point that out—that the prosecution failed to produce any evidence that Tina knew about her husband’s extracurricular activities. I won’t be saying Tina didn’t know, only that the prosecution failed to prove that she did.”

“That’s what you call a lawful lie,” I said smiling. “But there’s still the possibility that Julie could produce some contrary evidence after she closes her case-in-chief. So it’s still risky.”

“This whole discussion may be a moot point.” Neddy reached for her lemonade. “I’m sure Julie has some shockers for us. So we’ll just have to play it by ear.”

Our food arrived and we dug in.

“I can only imagine Julie’s opening statement,” I said, when we were almost done with our meal. “‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I, the great Julie Killabrew, will prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am the most incredible lawyer who has ever lived.’”

Neddy grinned as I reached for another cornbread muffin. “I hear Julie’s looking at this case as the springboard to her political career,” I said.

Neddy arched an eyebrow in skepticism. “She has to win the case first.”

“You still confident she won’t?”

Neddy lowered her voice again and leaned over the table, bringing her head closer to mine. “There’re a lot of variables, but I really don’t think she’ll be convicted. That assumes, however, that we luck up and get a good jury. All we need is just one person to go our way.”

“But what about Oscar Lopez’s testimony? Even if we call those other two employees who’ll testify that Oscar was lying about the knife, he’s still pretty sure the woman he saw was Tina.”

She waved away my concern with a terse swipe of her hand. “That’s the testimony that bothers me the least. Do you know how many cases I’ve had where eyewitnesses were flat-out wrong about what they saw? Lopez will be easy to discredit. I’m going to have a ball cross- examining him.”

Neddy broke into a sheepish smile. “And don’t you dare ask me again how I can do what I do. My focus is on the facts and the law, remember? She stopped and toyed with her fork. “To be honest, sometimes I feel really confident that Tina’s innocent, but other times, I look into her eyes and I see years of betrayal and enough smoldering anger for her to have actually done it. I know what I went through after only a few years with Lawton. I can’t imagine enduring that kind of treatment for more than a quarter of a century.”

I couldn’t imagine it either, which was one reason my gut kept pointing toward Tina’s guilt.

When we were done eating, the waitress retrieved our empty plates and took our dessert orders. I didn’t bother to look at the menu. I already knew I wanted Miss Flossie’s floating sweet potato pie. Neddy ordered Grandmother Zady’s peach cobbler.

“So how’re things going with you and Jefferson?” Neddy asked.

“Better, but he’s still not willing to talk about his situation and I’ve been letting it go. But we really do need to talk.”

Her eyes were sympathetic. “Girl, you know how brothers are about communication. When he’s ready to talk, he will and not a minute before.”

“You’ve definitely got that right. It’s amazing that he was the one pushing for a family and now I’m the one who’s hearing the call of motherhood. I’ve been really thinking seriously about adopting—soon.”

“This is a big switch,” she said, surprised.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, girl, take it from me,” she cautioned, “the law and motherhood aren’t exactly the best mix. A baby’s going to be even more demanding than a trial. And when you get overwhelmed, you can’t run to some judge to ask for a continuance. Something has to give. You ready for that?”

“That’s the strange part,” I said, fidgeting with my napkin. “I think I definitely am.”

A
fter having lunch with Neddy, I rushed home to surprise Jefferson with a home-cooked meal of meatloaf, garlic mashed potatoes and black-eyed peas, all of his favorites. Once the trial started, we would barely see each other. Cooking this meal was going to help me alleviate some of my guilt pangs about abandoning my husband in his time of need.

When Jefferson walked in just after dark and saw the table set, he feigned a heart attack, Fred Sanford-style.

“Oh, Elizabeth, this is the big one! I’m coming to join you, honey.” He stumbled into the kitchen and reached out for a chair to break his fall.

I playfully socked him on the arm. “That’s not funny. You act like I never cook.”

“I ain’t answering that question on the grounds that
you
might be incriminated,” he said.

I gave him a big, sloppy kiss. “Go get out of them funky clothes and come back so I can pamper you like the king that you are.”

It was absolutely hilarious watching him skip into the bedroom like a big goofy kid. I heard the shower running and in a flash he was back, still damp, with a towel draped around his waist.

He reached out for me and brought his lips to mine, kissing me so fervently that I wanted to cry out. It had been some time since we had really connected.

He reached to unbutton my jeans, but I grabbed his hands in protest. “C’mon baby, we have to eat first.”

“I am going to eat first,” he said smiling.

He continued to undress me, then led me into the bedroom.

“You’re awful frisky tonight,” I said.

He just smiled and laid me down on the bed, and crawled in next to me. We were both laying on our sides, facing each other. “I’m crazy about you, you know that?” he said.

“Ditto,” I replied. He smelled fresh and clean. I traced his chest muscles with my index finger. He pulled me on top of him and for a long time, we just held each other and it felt good.

“Jefferson, I just want you to know that it doesn’t matter that—”

He cut me off. “I don’t want to talk about that. I just want us to stay right here and kick it.”

After a few minutes, he laid me on my back and positioned himself next to me. I felt his hand exploring my body, lightly touching me, slowly, deliberately, as if his fingers had eyes that were searching for some specific place. He kissed the curve of my neck as his hand descended from my breasts, to my waist and beyond. A wave of excitement stimulated every nerve in my body.

His fingers were talking to me, telling me I was loved. He soon replaced his fingers with his tongue, retracing the exact same path his fingers had traveled. As I felt myself reach a point beyond my control, I pulled him to me and took him in. We thrashed about in a wild, yet coordinated series of fervent motions. It was as if Jefferson could feel the exact same fiery sensations I felt. As his pace quickened, my screams went from thunderous cries to faded whimpers. Seconds later, his groans had also faded and we held onto each other, twisted like a rope, still panting heavily from our encounter.

He lifted his weight from my body and kissed my forehead.

“Now that we’ve had dessert,” he said smiling, “it’s time to back up and have the main meal.”

We quickly finished eating and climbed into bed to watch TV even though it was only 8:15. I lay across Jefferson’s chest as we watched an episode of
The
Sopranos
Jefferson had recorded on our new TiVo system. This was the most relaxed I’d felt in a long time. I hated all the drama I’d gone through in the last few weeks, and I was thankful for this brief lull before the storm. When the show ended, Jefferson started channel-hopping.

A news tease returned the tension to my body.

“What is sure to be one of the most watched trials in L.A. in years begins on Monday
—
the murder trial of Tina Montgomery, accused in the vicious stabbing death of her husband, Max Montgomery. Join us for the latest after this brief commercial break.”

Jefferson entwined my fingers with his. “You ready to roll?”

“I guess so.”

“You don’t sound too confident.”

“I guess I’m a little scared. A woman’s life is on the line and I’m going to be partially responsible if she’s found guilty.”

“Not if she did it.”

When the commercial ended, we listened as a reporter rehashed the details of Max Montgomery’s murder and speculated about the evidence that would be presented at his wife’s trial.

I picked up the remote and changed the channel. “That really pisses me off. They’re basically trying the case on TV. No telling how many potential jurors were watching that story. That’s why nobody in this city can get a fair trial.”

“I have to ask you this question again,” Jefferson said. “Do you think she did it?”

This time I didn’t try to hedge. “I don’t know.”

“Ms. I-Have-An-Opinion-About-Everything still doesn’t have one?”

“It’s turning out to be a weird case. As Neddy put it, there’re a lot of variables.”

“All I know is, even if the brother was as big a ho as everybody’s making him out to be,” Jefferson said, “he didn’t deserve to die like that.”

“Some people feel he got what he deserved.”

“Is that what you feel?” Jefferson asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He pulled away from me. “You telling me it’s cool to kill a brother just because he cheats on his woman?”

“It’s not just the cheating, it’s the overall betrayal,” I said. “If she did kill him, I’m just saying part of me understands. It’s like the battered women’s syndrome. You take it for years and then suddenly you just snap. There should be a cheated-on woman’s syndrome.”

Jefferson looked genuinely shocked. “Nah, baby, you’re wrong. Where’s all that women’s lib crap y’all like to spout? Where’s your self-respect? Why does a man cheating on you have to destroy you? If the brother couldn’t keep it zipped up, she should’ve just took her shit and left.” He hit the mute button.

“So if you walked in and caught me cheating, you’re not getting enraged and strangling me? You’re just leaving?” I asked.

Jefferson thought about my question for a moment. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to resort to violence, but I don’t think I would. I know how to keep my temper in check. Some people don’t. I would definitely have to leave the vicinity—fast. But I don’t know why we’re talking about this because it would never happen. You’d never cheat on me.”

The lofty assurance in Jefferson’s voice bugged me. “You sound awful confident about that. In fact, you sound a little too confident.”

“You wouldn’t,” he said. “You ain’t got it in you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not stupid and you’re not greedy. As long as your needs are being taken care of, you’re not about to stray.”

He was right. But I still didn’t like his staunch confidence about it. “What about you? Are you going to stray?”

“Highly unlikely.”

“Highly unlikely? How about absolutely no way, Jose?”

“Girl, you know me. As long as you’re taking care of business at home, then we’re cool.”

“So, if I stop taking care of business, that gives you the right to mess around?” I asked.

Jefferson chuckled. “You know what? I can see where this conversation is going. Let’s just change the subject.” He hit the volume button on the remote control, filling the room with sound again.

“I don’t want to change the subject,” I said, half joking, half serious. “Basically you’re telling me you don’t respect your marriage vows?”

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “I’ll never understand female logic. How in the hell did you take that giant-ass leap?”

“For better or worse. Remember? You just said, if it gets bad, you get to screw around.”

Jefferson laughed louder. “That’s not what I said. What I said was—never mind what I said. It doesn’t matter. What I meant was, as long as our relationship is straight, you don’t have to worry about me trippin’.”

“You just said it again!” I said, socking him on the arm. “If our relationship gets rocky, you plan on cheating.’”

“You know what? We need to change the subject for real now because you’re trippin’. I love you. And you know that. I’m not going nowhere. And I don’t want to go anywhere. Let’s talk about something else.”

I grabbed a pillow and pouted.

“C’mon, baby, don’t trip.” He pulled the pillow from me and began tugging on my earlobes with his lips.

“Stop it,” I said, laughing.

He climbed on top of me and tickled my stomach. I laughed wildly and summoned up all my strength, but couldn’t get out from under him. He finally stopped tickling me, rolled over and pulled me on top of him.

“This is fun,” I said. “It’s been a long time since we just hung out and acted crazy like this.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Objection, non-responsive.” I leaned in closer and kissed him. “Can I talk to you about something?” I asked.

“Aw, shit. Whenever you want to ‘talk,’ it usually ain’t good. What’s up now? If you tell me you’re taking on another big case after this one’s over, I’m filing for divorce. Tonight.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” I socked him even harder this time. “And no, I don’t have another case.” I laid my head on his chest. “I want to talk about adoption.”

I felt the muscles in his chest harden.

“You did hear me, right?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said curtly.

“And…?”

“And that’s not something I want to talk about right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just don’t.”

“Jefferson, we have to deal with this.”

He stared at the TV screen and didn’t say anything for a long time. I decided to wait him out.

“I don’t want to raise anybody else’s kids,” he said finally. “And I definitely don’t want to do it by myself.” Jefferson sat up, resting his back against the leather headboard, and I joined him.

“What does that mean?”

“That means that the next case that comes up, you won’t be here. You don’t make time for me and I doubt you’ll make time for a kid.”

His words stung like a punch in the face. “Then I’m confused. What the hell did we just do?”

“You amaze the fuck out of me sometimes,” he said, turning to face me. “You cook dinner once every six months and think you deserve a fuckin’ award. Don’t play me. Your career is first. Then me. I’ve been trying to deal with that. So if we adopt, is the kid coming before me or after me?”

The venom in his voice startled me. In my heart, I didn’t feel that I’d put my career first, but if the measuring stick was time, I had to admit that lately Jefferson had come in a distant second.

“You’re not second to my career. I just can’t control my work schedule the way you can.”

“Yes, you can,” he charged. “I know lawyers who don’t spend all day and night at the office.”

“And I doubt any of them work at a firm with the reputation of O’Reilly & Finney. It comes with the territory.”

He made an exasperated sucking sound. “There’re other firms in L.A. Other good firms. And like I keep telling you, you don’t need that firm to validate yourself. You’d be a good lawyer whether you were working for the best firm in the city or the worst one. And anyway, I don’t know why we’re even discussing this. It would be the same thing no matter where you worked. You’re a workaholic by nature.”

I didn’t want to argue about my work schedule because there was no way for me to resolve the issue short of quitting. Neddy wasn’t even on partnership track and she worked hours just as long as mine. I wanted to get back to our conversation about adoption. The thought of never being a mother frightened me.

“So are you telling me you won’t consider adoption because I work too much?”

He switched channels and the familiar melody of a McDonald’s jingle filled the room. “That’s one reason.”

“And the others?”

He closed his eyes and looked away. “I just don’t want to adopt, Vernetta, okay?”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I didn’t know I did either.”

I took the remote from his hand and hit the mute button again. “You’d really want us to live our lives never being parents.”

“You know that’s not what I want. It’s just how it is. Anyway, I don’t understand the big switch. I had to basically threaten you to make that appointment with Dr. Bell. Now, all of a sudden, you’re ready for motherhood.”

“It doesn’t have to be right away. But it bothers me that you don’t even want to talk about adoption. This is a decision we should make together.”

“That’s a joke, right?” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “We don’t make any other decisions together. Why should this one be any different?”

My eyes told him that he’d hurt my feelings, but he didn’t make any effort to say or do anything about it.

“Let’s just talk about this some other time.” He hopped off the bed and grabbed his jeans from a nearby chair. “I’m going to the store to get some ice cream. You want anything?”

Yeah, a baby
. “Yeah, check the refrigerator,” I said instead. “I think we’re low on milk.”