“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.
At 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 b
athroom 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.
Chapter 7
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 call 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."
The Guilty Page 16