by Anna Premoli
Wyatt looked at her dubiously. “That was very considerate of you…” he said sarcastically. “Anyway, since our only interest is in understanding what happened that night, I will make an exception and authorize this witness. But she’s the last one!” he warned them.
“Of course!” said Amalia gleefully, with a triumphant expression on her face.
“But… your Honor…” Ryan complained.
“Look, the District Attorney has been using similar tactics forever, so don’t start griping now. You and your buddies are forever pulling out last minute witnesses, so don’t you lecture me. Anyway, I am going to give you the afternoon to cross-examine this new witness, if you think it’s necessary. Are we clear?”
Ryan could only nod in agreement, although his expression showed how annoyed he was.
“Very well,” said Wyatt. “Now let’s try and get it over with as quickly as possible.”
*
As she had planned, Amalia gave Ryan the coup de grâce. He tried to make Liz as uncomfortable as possible during his cross-examination, but the young girl didn’t give much ground despite the psychological pressure. And if that wasn’t enough, the mysterious waitress was punctual and confirmed that yes, she had worked at the Lagoon that evening and yes, she had witnessed a quite peculiar scene: while she was cleaning up a table, Thomas Delaney had been very insistently asking Andrew Trenton to give him some cocaine, promising that he would pay him back as soon as his father started giving him his allowance again. Trenton would only have to wait a few days, Delaney had promised. He had apparently met a girl that he was intending to have some fun with later, and that was why he needed a second dose. Delaney had even bragged about his new sweetheart who, according to him, had a quantity of unnamed pills in her possession which would enhance the effect of the cocaine. All he had to do was obtain some.
In the end, Trenton agreed to give him a second dose and he had gone away happy and satisfied. The rest was already known.
Once again, Ryan couldn’t do much during the cross-examination, partly because he too was beginning to realize that Delaney had tried to fool everybody. He hadn’t told the whole truth, hiding the existence of a second bag of cocaine and not mentioning at all the ‘magic pills’ his friend had in her possession. He had, on the contrary, preferred to accuse Liz Stubbs, hoping to avoid involving his usual dealer, to whom he still owed a good deal of money. Trenton had disappeared as soon as the story had broken, but among the people he usually hung out with, many were willing and able to testify to Delaney’s debt to him.
Liz Stubbs must have looked like the perfect scapegoat: she had just been involved in another case and her reputation with the court was not good – she’d had a complicated life and was herself an occasional customer of Trenton’s. She must have seemed like the ideal victim. If he hadn’t been so eager to show off to his new boss and if he hadn’t met Amalia Berger, Ryan would surely have realized what Delaney was playing at sooner rather than later.
But he hadn’t – his own stubbornness had prevented him from seeing things clearly, and he had nobody to blame but himself.
He watched Amalia while she finished summing up her case. Her pale face looked very tired, but she was also visibly convinced that she was fighting for a just cause. She had been better than him: she had realized immediately that there was more to be dug out from what, on the surface, looked like a straightforward story, and she had done it. She was one of those people who would always analyze things in depth and who would always mistrust appearances.
You couldn’t say the same about him, he thought – at least, not this this time, as he had clearly let appearances fool him. And by doing so he had ensured his own defeat.
As he watched her, he rubbed his cheek absently and reflected: in only one week, he had lost a woman and a case. Of course his chances of keeping that woman had always been practically zero… Most likely he had been just a temporary distraction in Amalia Berger’s life. Okay, she had asked him to get someone to substitute him in court, that was true, and she had said she was in love with him, but she hadn’t done anything to back up her words. If she’d wanted to, she could have pulled out of the case and let someone else take it over for her. Maybe. But he wasn’t sure of anything any more.
Because now that the case was drawing to its natural conclusion, he understood perfectly why Amalia had refused to hand her client over to one of her colleagues: she had sensed that the accusations against Liz were way over the top and she was afraid that another lawyer wouldn’t have been as committed to proving Liz’s innocence as she herself was.
He had to admit that she had fought very hard and succeeded in finding the missing pieces of the puzzle while he, on the other hand, hadn’t reasoned at all, haunted as he was by his sense of guilt at having taken the wrong decision and by the growing awareness that he would never be able to get her out of his mind, ever. The more he tried, the harder he failed.
If his boss didn’t fire him that same evening, he would take a few days off to put his strange and illogical thoughts in order, after which he would do his damnedest to switch off all his desires and his emotions and, finally, he would go back to doing his job with his usual commitment.
All alone.
21
That Saturday morning, Kayla turned up at Amalia’s door carrying what she described as a ‘mood-enhancing’ breakfast: two giant cappuccinos and a paper bag from which a divine fragrance emerged.
“Cupcakes!” she exclaimed when her friend opened the door. Amalia’s face still looked pretty sleepy, but she didn’t complain about being woken up.
“Since when have you been so free and easy with the calories?” she asked, moving out of the way to let her friend in.
Kayla made herself comfortable on the couch, passed Amalia her maxi cappuccino and took from the bag six wonderful cupcakes with mouth wateringly colorful glazes, which she lined up in a neat row on the coffee table.
“You get first choice. Or you get to eat them all. Today, we’re celebrating.”
“What’s the occasion?” asked Amalia. “Have you found a boyfriend or something?”
Her friend seemed not to notice her gloomy tone.
“Today we are going to spend the whole day celebrating your incredible victory yesterday.”
“‘Incredible’… Let’s keep a little perspective here…” she muttered in a low voice. “In my place, and with a witness like that, anyone would have won.”
“Yeah, okay, that’s true. But not many people would have been smart enough to question all the possible witnesses until they found the right person.”
“I was just lucky,” said Amalia.
“Honey, luck and talent have always been a pretty tight combination, Who’s to say where one begins and the other ends, right?”
“How is it that you’re so intelligent this early on a Saturday morning?”
“Good genes. And waking up very early. I had to go to the office before I came here to talk to the chief editor about a series of future articles,” Kayla revealed.
“Interesting stuff?” inquired Amalia.
“No, not really – I don’t know about you, but I’ve never been all that crazy about shale gas.”
“I have to admit that I’m struggling to see you and shale gas in the same picture.”
“I know… But anyway, never mind all that boring crap. Let’s eat these gorgeous little babies and toast your victory. This morning we published a nice article about how the Assistant D.A. had basically self-destructed thanks to your case!” Kayla informed her as though it was no big deal.
Amalia grew more serious and put down her cappuccino without even tasting it.
“What are they saying?” she asked without trying in any way to hide that fact that the topic was close to her heart. One of the benefits of having a trusted friend like Kayla was precisely that she knew she could be herself, even when what they were talking about was uncomfortable. Kayla always knew how she felt and to look beyond appearanc
es: Kayla understood her, and that was why Amalia was certain she hadn’t just turned up at her apartment to feed her cupcakes.
“Nothing much – or rather, pretty much exactly what you’d imagine. It was only a small case, but it ended up attracting a lot of attention, partly because the Stubbs family were involved and partly because your assistant district attorney decided to make his first appearance on the New York scene with this unfortunate affair. Not a great start to his career here, if you want my opinion…” she chuckled with a hint of malice.
“No, it’s not an ideal start…” agreed Amalia, unable to suppress the guilt that prevented her from fully enjoying her victory. The previous day she had left the courtroom with an expression on her face that would have been appropriate had she lost. And today didn’t seem to promise anything better. The knot that she could feel in her stomach wasn’t destined to come undone any time soon, and it certainly wasn’t going to come undone by itself.
“I would say not. But it was totally his fault,” said Kayla, dismissive as ever. “Or rather, his and the other cases he has handled in the past.”
And there was the information Amalia had been waiting for – the real reason for Kayla’s visit.
“What do you mean?” she asked, sitting up and paying attention.
“Simple – the press dug into his record in Chicago a bit and it turned out that early in his career your Mr O’Moore dealt with several cases with minors from difficult backgrounds. It seems that a boy who he released after his first indictment had got it into his head to get himself involved in much more hardcore stuff. Moral of the story – a cop shoots him while he’s trying to carry out a robbery, just a few weeks after Ryan let him walk free.”
“Oh my God!” cried Amalia.
“Yeah – and as you can imagine, from that moment on, he became something of a champion of exemplary punishment. Even for a first conviction. In short, I think that getting his fingers burned that time and all the guilt it must have caused him meant that he wanted young criminals to have a taste of prison, maybe hoping that once they were released they’d decide to make a clean slate of it. Anyway, if you want my opinion, he’s just gone from one extreme to another.”
“It’s typical of Ryan to always be extreme,” smiled Amalia. “He is the type of guy who always believes in what he does. Even when he’s wrong.”
“And you’re going to accept that he’s like that because…” Kayla’s sentence trailed off.
“Because I’m in love with him, of course,” Amalia admitted without batting an eyelid. She had suddenly decided she’d had enough of all this ‘denial’ that there seemed to be in her life. The results hadn’t exactly been encouraging, had they?
Kayla smiled benevolently.
“Nice way to prove it. I mean, most men might take being humiliated in court like that as an unforgivable slap in the face.”
“Then I can only hope that Ryan is not like most men,” she said calmly. And in fact, deep within herself she felt a strange optimism she couldn’t justify. But hope, as everyone knows, doesn’t need particularly fertile land to start sprouting.
Kayla took a large bite out of one of the cupcakes – the chocolate one with pink icing and blue stars.
“Never lose hope. You need a plan, my dear, because your personal case is a pretty damn desperate one. You might be able to earn some points with him if you gave up that trust fund of yours, but why the hell would you do that for a man? No one is that important,” she reasoned wisely.
“Especially because the proceeds of that fund could fund a lot of good works, like cleaning up the public parks in poor areas, the soup kitchen, school programs for children whose families can’t afford extra-curricular activities, entertainment for the elderly and support for dog shelters,” Amalia answered in one breath.
Kayla stared at her with her mouth hanging wide open. “And when the hell did you think of all those?”
Amalia shrugged. “I know it’s an awful thing to admit, but it’s all thanks to Wyatt,” she admitted.
Her friend burst out laughing.
“My God, if I’d known that we were going to end up saying nice things about Judge Wyatt, I’d have brought booze, not coffee!”
“I actually could use something stronger, given what I’m about to do.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but my curiosity always gets the better of me… What are you about to do, Amalia?”
Amalia picked up a cupcake with cream-colored frosting.
“Tomorrow is St Patrick’s day. Seems like a pretty good day to play my last card. You know – all or nothing, right?”
“Well then, before you break something – like your heart – let’s get our blood sugar levels up to speed. If we’re going to touch rock bottom, let’s at least do it in style.”
The two friends sat there eating and chatting until Amalia finally picked up her tablet and began to look for more detailed information on the St Patrick’s Day parade and the various festivities in the city.
“Oh shit!” she suddenly cried out.
“What’s the matter?” Kayla teased her. “Have they decided to cancel Saint Patrick’s this year after a good two hundred and fifty years of honorable tradition?”
“No, but when the holiday falls on a Sunday – and this year it does – the festivities and the parade take place the day before for religious reasons. So it’s today!” she shouted in alarm. Amalia felt she needed at least another twenty-four hours of psychological preparation: the proximity of her plan was inducing panic. Good thing her profession accustomed her to working under pressure, she thought. And if this wasn’t pressure, she didn’t know what was!
“No pain, no gain, right?”
“You make it sound so easy. It’s me who’s going to try and persuade that Irish sourpuss that it would be a good idea for us to start dating.”
Kayla looked at her with a sweetness that she usually reserved for very special occasions.
“You know what, I’m going to confess something to you, and then I’ll deny ever having said it: I envy you. Yeah, I envy you, because you’ve managed to find someone you’re willing to beg for and you’re willing to risk looking a fool for. I envy you because you know who you want in your life, and because your days aren’t just all the same any more. I envy you because you’ve found a man that it’s worth changing your plans for. Have you any idea how rare that is these days?”
Amalia looked at her with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. “Wow. I mean, really – wow. I had no idea you thought stuff like that…”
“Yeah, well, I have my moments…” said Kayla, as she tried to hide her embarrassment from her friend. “Not often, but I have them.”
“But listen – I’m only going to ask him one last time and that’s it. Total humiliation I can live without.”
Kayla just sighed.
“My dear girl, you know very well that I can’t promise anything like that. You know what they say, you can’t climb back up until you’ve hit rock bottom. But in the meantime, eat. And don’t overthink things. In moments like this, thinking can be absolutely fatal.”
Despite everything, Amalia managed to smile, and took another bite of her cupcake.
*
Amalia looked at her costume again and then looked back to Kayla and gave a discouraged sigh.
“Just tell me again: why are we dressed like a couple of zucchini?”
Her friend couldn’t hold back a laugh.
“Why, were you hoping to be cast as lead lettuce?”
“I said that I didn’t want to be humiliated!” an annoyed Amalia reminded her.
“And you’re not going to be. We’re having fun, not being humiliated! I mean, sure, it might help if you would only smile a bit… Enough with that grouchy expression – in case you’ve forgotten, you’re supposed to be a cheerful four leaf clover.”
Amalia raised her eyes to the heavens. “‘Supposed’ is the word. Personally, I feel more a four leaf zucchini.”
&nbs
p; “Oh come on – since when did zucchini start wearing amazing hats like that?” asked Kayla, pointing to the pretty one perched on Amalia’s head.
“Where the hell did you find these costumes?”
“I have a cousin tenth-removed who goes around saying he’s part Irish just so he can take part in events like this. This year, he and his friends all dressed as leprechauns, so the shamrocks they wore last year were available for the asking.”
“Wow, what a stroke of luck. I still think my idea was better: just a nice green scarf,” she moaned, feeling like the most ridiculous woman on the planet. Sure, she was in good company judging by the absurdly dressed crowd in the streets, but she still looked ridiculous.
“Oh, don’t make me laugh! How many times do I have to tell you? If you want to do something, do it properly!” her friend berated her “Otherwise it makes no sense even trying in the first place!”
“Ryan will die laughing when he sees me. If we ever manage to find him in this chaos…”
“He’s Irish, he has to be here,” said Kayla.
“Let’s hope so…” whispered Amalia, who at that moment was not feeling particularly optimistic about her chances. She had thrown herself into this madness without reflecting properly on her decision and without weighing up the positives and the negatives. Which was what she always used to do – often to the point of exhaustion – until Ryan had barged his way into her orderly life. Which was one of the reasons she felt anything but at ease.
The parade went on for hours, as chaotic and noisy as every year, but Amalia couldn’t enjoy the festive atmosphere because she still hadn’t seen Ryan. She was almost ready to call the whole thing off and go home when Kayla suddenly grabbed her by the elbow. “Look who’s over there…”
Amalia perked up right away, but her eyes went dull an instant later. “Niel,” she said flatly, as soon as she saw Ryan’s brother surrounded by a group of laughing girls.
“And where there’s Niel, there’s bound to be Ryan,” concluded her friend. “Come on, let’s go over and say hello.”