The Guilty (19 page)

“
Yeah, he had to convince the judge he really could be that stupid, and it wasn’t as easy as it sounds.”

“Shut up, Ralston,” Kalouderis snapped at him, smiling nevertheless, as were the other lawyers listening to the story.

At this point Bratt had had enough. In the past few days, and despite all the roadblocks that seemed to have been thrown up in his way, he had been trying his best just to do his best. Listening to lawyers joking about their own incompetence now was like a slap in the face.

He turned from the window and roared
, “Just because all your court cases are on hold doesn’t mean that I’ve got time to waste listening to your pathetic stories!”

The other lawyers stopped in the middle of their bantering. Their smiles were still frozen on their faces, but all the joy had gone out of them, and they looked at each other in silent embarrassment. Leblanc cleared his throat and spoke tentatively.

“Uh, Bobby’s pretty busy guys. Maybe we really should let him and Pete get back to work.”

The others nodded to each other and then sheepishly began to head out, all except Kalouderis, who eyed his friend carefully, concerned about what might have brought on that little explosion. Bratt’s eyes met his, but they held no invitation to stay and talk, so he reluctantly shuffled back to his own office.

As Leblanc headed for the door, he turned and looked at Kouri, who had remained behind to do his work. Kouri’s face held a look of terror, so Leblanc shook his head silently, letting him know he shouldn’t worry. Then he spoke to Bratt.

“Sorry, Bobby. I know it’s been a really tough week, and time’s tight with this Small case. Then again, that’s no reason to behave like an asshole.”

Bratt’s throat constricted as he held his rising anger in. He knew he would regret his outburst later, but right now he had no time to waste on remorse. Once Leblanc was gone he saw that Kouri was just standing in the middle of the room, like a soldier caught in no-man’s land, looking worried about his fate. He glared at him accusatorially, as if he held Kouri to a higher standard than he did his associates, but he said nothing. Finally he opened the Small file and sat down, rifling through its pages.

“Did you draft the motion?”

“Yes,” Kouri answered, without moving from his spot.

“Did you make copies of the jurisprudence on this point?”

“Yes,” Kouri repeated, still unmoving.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.
At ease
, private,” Bratt drawled sarcastically.

Kouri’s face reddened, and he came forward tentatively to sit across the desk from Bratt.

“Make sure the bailiffs serve it today, so we can argue it on Monday. Just in case the judge decides to let that video in, we’ll still have a week before the jury’s called to come up with a backup plan.”

“Any idea what plan B would be?”

Bratt thought of the tourists and pilgrims lined up to enter Notre Dame that afternoon and briefly pictured himself among them, praying for help.

“Plan B is to make sure that plan A works,” he said. “So, let’s see what you have for me.”

The rest of the afternoon they spent reading the case law Kouri had gathered on the admissibility of statements. Bratt had to admit that in the few hours that he had had available to him, Kouri had done a very thorough job.

They would have to convince the judge that the contents of the video only served to make Small look bad by drumming up suspicions against him, without actually containing proof of anything. After all, saying that Small
looked
guilty on the tape was purely a matter of opinion. And as for St. Jean’s crowing during the questioning about how strong their case was, that also proved nothing, but it was dangerous because a jury could easily buy into his claims.

They read the jurisprudence, and wrote notes, and discussed the strengths and weaknesses of their position. Kouri played devil’s advocate, arguing against every point that Bratt tried to make, forcing him to think fast on his feet and preparing him for Parent’s probable counter-arguments. Once again, Bratt had to admit that Kouri was quite good at this. Once the young lawyer got rolling, his shyness and diffidence seemed to disappear, and they were replaced by a sharp, confident intellect. Bratt wasn’t ready to go so far as saying he liked the young man, but he was beginning to dislike him a lot less each day.

By seven o’clock that evening they had argued and analyzed their motion every conceivable way and Bratt was ready to head home. Kouri disappeared into the little cubbyhole that was his temporary office to gather his coat and scarf, and Bratt wondered if it wouldn’t be a good time to let him know what he thought of his work. He hesitated, unsure how to go about it. Handing out compliments didn’t come easily to him, but he told himself that he would need to keep the young lawyer happy and interested in their work if he wanted him to be at his best in court. Bratt also appreciated the fact that, since his return to the office, Kouri hadn’t tried to bring up their earlier meeting with Small.

When Kouri came out into the corridor, he saw Bratt waiting for him, an awkward smile on his face.

“Listen, Pete, before you go,” Bratt hesitated, suddenly afraid of seeming over-sentimental. “I thought you should know, I think your work’s been pretty good so far. First rate, really. You’ve been a lot of help.”

The two men stood facing each other, both clearly embarrassed by what had just been said, although both seemed happy that it was. For a few painful seconds Bratt wondered if Kouri might try to hug him.

Finally, Kouri smiled and said simply, “Thanks, Mr. Bratt.”

“No problem, kid,” Bratt said quickly, trying to preserve his gruff exterior. “I just call ’em like I see ’em.”

He felt that he should say something more, maybe let Kouri know that he no longer looked on him as an outsider.

What the heck,
he thought.
I’ve got nothing else to do tonight.

“Got any plans this evening,” he asked.

Kouri looked a bit embarrassed and surprised at the question, clearly never having expected it.

“Uh, as a matter of fact, yes. I’ve got some…friends. I’m meeting them for supper now.”

Of course, the little shit would have a social life,
Bratt thought, as he smiled and said, “No problem. We’ll go for drinks or something, sometime.”

Again, there was that moment of awkwardness, then Bratt turned and walked quickly out, hoping against hope that Kouri wouldn’t race after him and join him on the slow elevator ride down to street level. Perhaps sensing the older lawyer’s discomfort, Kouri lagged behind until the elevator doors slid closed on Bratt.

A
t home that night he dropped back into the soft leather sofa in his living room and rested his stockinged feet up on his glass-topped coffee table. Remote control pointed at the TV, his eyes half-closed, he flipped aimlessly through the cable universe. He was feeling quite relaxed now. His mind was less preoccupied than it was earlier that day, after the scene he’d made in Parent’s office. The time he had put in with Kouri had been very useful, not just in preparing Small’s defense, but in getting himself concentrated and thinking straight again.

The ringing of the telephone roused him from his drowsing state and he grabbed at it instantly.

“Bratt here.”

He was surprised to hear the voice of Jennifer Campbell on the other end.

“Good evening, Mr. Bratt. I’m sorry to disturb you at home, but I needed to speak to you.”

Bratt paused before answering. The last people he wanted to talk to that night were those connected with Marlon Small. But Campbell was the one footing his bill, and she deserved at least the time of day from him.

“Hello, Mrs. Campbell. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“I just had a long talk with my boy, Marlon. He’s a bit hot-headed and doesn’t always know what’s good for him, but I think everything’s going to be fine.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was a bit upset that you didn’t think much of his two friends. I told him that you’re the expert here and we have to trust in your opinion in such matters.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t have total confidence in your abilities. I told Marlon to forget all about the past for now and to concentrate on what has to be done to get him out of jail. He told me you want him to find some other people who will say he was in the park that night. Is that right?”

“Yes. The original list I received from Lynn Sévigny had eight or nine names on it. Most didn’t have addresses or phone numbers. If he could help me get in touch with some of them that would be the best place to start.”

“That’s what I thought as well. I’ll make sure he gets you somebody in a few days. I told Marlon that we’re putting our faith in God and in the talent that He’s given you. So, you go back to what you were doing and I’ll see to it that you get the witnesses you need to get my boy freed.”  

After she hung up Bratt felt a sense of relief. Jennifer Campbell was so straight, so obviously honest, she would make sure that any potential witnesses her son came up with would be on the up and up. This would spare Bratt from possibly having to cross the line that he was so familiar with and had come to dread. Surely she wouldn’t allow Marlon to step through the door that Bratt had opened so widely for him when he had implied that he didn’t care if the witnesses perjured themselves or not, just as long as they could convince a jury.  

Shedding his clothes, he headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Totally isolated from the outside world, he was able to think most clearly there. He wondered how his clients would feel if they knew that many of the brilliant arguments he had used to save them from jail had popped into his head between rinse well and shampoo again.

Too bad shower stalls didn’t come in a portable, laptop size,
so I could take them everywhere with me. Maybe I could stay out of trouble that way, and not have to depend on my client’s mother to save what little integrity I have left.

Thursday around noon they got news from Small about his alibi witnesses. Kouri had just returned from some doctor’s appointment and he and Bratt were poring over ballistics reports when Sylvie’s voice came over the speakerphone. She announced a collect call from “Mr. Marvin Ball.”

    
Close enough,
Bratt thought, as Kouri moved quickly to pick up the receiver. He talked quietly into the phone for a few seconds, his back to Bratt, then turned and passed him the receiver. Bratt looked at him quizzically, wondering what that was all about, before turning his attention to Small.

“Marlon, it’s about time. I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Small replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I figured there was no hurry, right, so I took as much time as possible.”

“OK, OK. I just meant that I was starting to worry. Time is tight, you know. So, what do we have?”

“I got a couple of guys for you to meet. They been out of town a while, and now they’re back I reached ’em. They were shooting hoops with me at the park that night, and they’ll swear to it in court. And these guys ain’t no fuckups. You’re gonna like ’em.”

“Well, I hope so, because they’re the last, but most important, piece of the puzzle. Can they come see us tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, I gave my man Pete their names and numbers. I talked to them an’ they’re waiting for his call.”

“That’s fine. If they’re any better than the last two, I’ll send their names on to the cops tomorrow afternoon.”

“They’ll do. I’m sure of it. Catch you later.”

Small hung up, and Bratt thought that his final words made for a chilling prospect.

“Well,” Kouri asked. “Feel better?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow. Wanna go call them from your office? I need the phone.”

“Sure,” said Kouri and, as he left, Bratt wondered when exactly Small had begun referring to the young lawyer as ‘my man, Pete.’

Once Kouri was out of the office Bratt reached for the receiver. Feeling a bit better about how the trial preparation was going he thought he’d give Nancy a ca
ll and see if he hadn’t made a total fool of himself at Parent’s office. The day ahead didn’t look too busy, so he could afford to get away from the office for a couple of hours. He only hoped she was available, and willing, to see him.

He dialed and when she answered her voice sounded distant and scratchy.

“Oui, allô? Nancy Morin ici.”

“Hey, you didn’t know it was me calling,” Bratt joked, feeling an illogical twinge of disappointment nevertheless.

“Oh, Robert, hi. I’m on the road and talking on this wire they gave me.”

“I can tell. There’s a lot of background noise, and your voice is pretty scratchy.”

“I’m headed down to your part of town now. I’ve got to pick up some things from Parent’s office, get up to speed on the file, so I can at least make myself useful.”

“Parent’s gonna need all the help you can give him,” Bratt joked. He couldn’t make out her response, however, as her voice seemed to fade away for a moment before coming back a bit more clearly.

“Robert, are you there?”

“Yeah, Nancy, but your voice is really breaking up. Why don’t you call me when you get to the courthouse?”

“OK. Maybe we can have some lunch if you didn’t eat yet.”

“Lunch sounds great. Call me when you get down here.”

Lunch was not quite the intimate tête-à-tête he had hoped for. Nancy only had enough time to grab a quick muffin with him at a crowded coffee shop across the street from the courthouse. There were no seats available, so they stood wearing their coats at a counter, drinking decaf and trying to make themselves heard over the din of the lunchtime crowd.

Bratt felt a certain little boy excitement about seeing Nancy again, even in a crowded café. While he had waited in his office for her to call back his mind had drifted back to their time together Monday night. He hadn’t thought of the sex, or even the dinner conversation. Rather, he kept reliving those minutes he had been able to stay awake while lying next to her, feeling the warmth of her breath, touching her cool, soft skin. It had been many years since he had been so at ease, so unguarded in his thoughts and actions when alone with a woman. Not since Deirdre.

He was happy to find that this thought hadn’t come with a little pang of guilt.

Now, standing in the crowded coffee shop, Bratt gazed happily at Nancy while he munched on his muffin. She wasn’t eating hers, only picking it apart slowly, seemingly deep in thought. He noticed that she wasn’t as flirtatious or as self-confident as she usually was with him.

Bratt leaned over to speak directly into her ear, to make sure she heard him clearly and to prevent others from overhearing his uncharacteristically sentimental words.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

Nancy pulled her head back with a jerk, but he knew that his voice hadn’t been too loud.
The expression on her face showed reticence at being too close to him. She didn’t respond to what he said, and was clearly having difficulty looking him in the eye.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked her.

He didn’t expect her to have trouble getting her words out, but she clearly did.

“I guess…I guess I’m just not comfortable about, you know, being seen with you in public.”

The way she kept glancing nervously around her made that very clear.

“Hey, it was your idea to have lunch,” he said, sporting a wolfish grin as he leaned closer
again and touched her hand. “I had much more intimate plans.”

She didn’t return his smile, and she pulled her hand back from his touch.

“OK, what is it, Nancy? You’ve never had trouble telling me what’s on your mind before, so tell me what’s going on now.”

She took a deep breath before looking up at him, as if this simple gesture required a great effort from her.

“Robert, this case is very important for me.”

“I know it is. It’s important for me too.”

“Of course, and that’s a big part of the problem. Don’t forget we’re on different sides here.”

“What? Does my defending this guy bother you?”

“Frankly, that does bother me…a bit. But I’m not your daughter, and I didn’t just wake up and discover you’re a defense lawyer. I knew what I was getting into from the beginning. I decided from the moment that I…well, began to feel anything for you, that I wouldn’t hold your job against you.”

“Gee, that’s very big of you,” he said, sourly. “So, what’s the problem now?”

“Like I said, this case is very important. If I want to get anywhere in this job, I can’t have anybody questioning my loyalty.”

“You spent two months openly flirting with me during the Hall trial. You didn’t seem to care what people thought then.”

“It’s different now.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, it just is. Maybe it’s because this is my first murder case, and all I’ve ever wanted to do was work homicide. Maybe it’s working with Parent. He’s so straitlaced he acts like we’re on some sort of holy crusade.”

“And I’m the hated infidel, right? You shouldn’t take him too seriously.”

“
I take him seriously because he can influence my career, and he’s made it clear he can’t stand you. Look, this case just fell into my lap all of a sudden and I’m really scared that I’ll blow it. All I want is for the two of us to slow things down a bit.”

“Slow things down? We’ve barely gotten going.”

He placed a hand around her waist and pulled her closer, but she turned her face away when he tried to kiss her.

“Robert, please! We’re not kids here.”

“You didn’t think I was a kid the other night.”

“But things have changed, and you need to realize that.”

“Fine, but for how long? Don’t tell me until the trial is over.”

She glared silently back at him. Clearly she didn’t like being pushed into a corner, but his stubbornness was preventing him from seeing her side of the situation.

“
At least
until it’s over, Robert,” she said defiantly.

“At least? What do you mean by that,” he came close to shouting, his temper flaring up suddenly, as it had done so often of late.

Nancy looked around, embarrassed at the turned heads and raised eyebrows that his voice had produced.

“Can you please keep your voice down?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, clearly not meaning it. “I forgot how embarrassing it is for you to be seen with me.”

“Well, you seem to take great pleasure in putting me in embarrassing situations, don’t you? Can’t you just for a minute see things my way?”

“I would, but I didn’t think your way meant sticking so closely to the rules, living so safely. I thought you liked taking a few risks in your life.”

“Oh, that’s so easy for you to say,” she said, her exasperation evident in her voice. “Who
signs
your
paycheck? Who do you have to answer to? Your whole career is based on doing whatever the hell you like. You can go ahead and be a rebel against society, and your clients will love you for it. I’m sorry to be so boring, but my job is to enforce the rules and sometimes that means I have to obey them too. And if that means I don’t get to live my life doing just anything I please, when I please, then that’s a price I’m willing to pay."

“Christ we’re two adults here. I can’t believe you’re letting Parent decide how you should live your life.”

“Don’t be so sure it’s all him, Robert,” she said, her eyes flashing now with indignation. “I’m a big girl and nobody’s forcing this on me. Sorry if I suddenly seem like a stick-in-the-mud. Maybe being close to you for so long made me take risks that I normally wouldn’t have before. But that has to change now. I don’t have the same control over my life that you do. I’m perfectly willing to accept that fact and I’ve learned to lead my life accordingly. Maybe you should learn to accept it too.”

With that she turned and made her way through the crowd and left the café, leaving Bratt feeling stunned, unsure what he was supposed to do next. It had been many years since he had allowed anybody to pull the strings on his emotions the way she did. He had been willing to allow her that privilege, but now she didn’t seem to want it.

He found it ironic that she seemed to think his career allowed him some sort of freedom that she lacked, and that she was holding this against him now. Maybe he could come and go as he liked, but that was about the only real advantage there was to being his own boss. Otherwise, as anyone who watched him get totally wrapped up in his work could have told her, he was a slave to his cases.

He wanted to blame Parent for this turn of events, but he knew he also had to respect Nancy’s independence. He shouldn’t have implied that Parent was dictating her life. Although that probably wasn’t far from the truth, there was no point waving it in her face. It was clearly important for her that he accept the choices she made. This had never posed a problem before, when her decisions had meshed quite nicely with his.

No,
he thought,
lunch sure wasn’t what I had hoped for.

The next morning Bratt was in the office early, waiting for Leblanc to come in. He needed to discuss the future, both his and the firm’s, with his partner, and he yawned sleepily as he waited.

He had spent another largely sleepless night, unable to drive the thoughts of Nancy, Jeannie, and Madsen from his head. Now it was time to tell Leblanc about the opening on the Superior Court, yet he was finding it hard to muster up a great deal of enthusiasm for the fulfillment of his life’s ambition.

Leblanc finally showed up about quarter after nine. He came rushing in, as he so often did, his face flushed. He carried his heavy briefcase in one hand, and a paper bag carrying his breakfast from the McDonald’s around the corner in the other. He expressed surprise at seeing Bratt sitting in front of his desk, reading a newspaper.

“Bobby-boy, what’s up?” he huffed, dropping his large frame into his chair.

Before Bratt had a chance to answer Leblanc opened the bag and pulled out his meal. Bratt winced at the sight of the three egg and bacon sandwiches, with hash browns, that came out of the bag. He almost forgot to speak as he watched Leblanc slurp his scalding-hot coffee and then pull out and light a cigarette.

Leblanc took a deep drag on the cigarette, dropped it into an ashtray full of butts from the day before, and then bit off half the first sandwich. He looked up at Bratt as he chewed and raised his eyebrows, still not having received an answer. Bratt dragged his attention away from Leblanc’s stuffed face, remembering what he had come to talk about.

“J.P, I need to talk to you. I’ve got some news, some big news.”

“Mm-hm,” Leblanc responded, managing to get equal amounts of food, coffee, and cigarette into his mouth without missing a beat.

“They’re going to make me a judge. Maybe. Probably, I guess,” Bratt laughed at his own equivocation.