by Jay Brandon
Valerie stared at him, then laughed shortly.
Mike shrugged. ‘So what about it, other visitors for Dr Paul?’
She let a beat go by, then slowly shook her head. ‘Sure. He was a single doctor. I saw him bring home a woman now and again. And a couple of other people came to visit, maybe. I wasn’t watching, I didn’t have my face pressed to the window. We all want our privacy, right? But there could’ve been dozens when I wasn’t noticing. A gunshot gets your attention.’ Then Valerie said, ‘Maybe you two should move on before I call the police again.’
Edward stood slowly. ‘We’ll go, but we’ll be back, too. We’re not the enemy, you know. We want to solve this murder even more than the police do. He was my brother-in-law.’
‘Yes, but she’s your sister. You want to save her. That’s more important to you than solving the murder.’
There was no response to that. Edward turned and walked away with Mike.
They asked at the other surrounding houses. No one had seen the whole picture. A couple had vaguely noticed Amy arrive, nearly everyone had heard the gunshot, but no one could give a complete timeline, unsurprisingly.
‘Thanks,’ Mike said to every one of them. ‘Here’s my card. If you think of anything else …’
Walking away from the last house they were going to try, Mike said, ‘Two of them have already changed their stories since the first time I talked to them. One of them saw Amy just getting out of her car as the gunshot was going off. Now he says no, he saw her arrive and the gunshot was a minute or two later. Doesn’t know if she was still on the porch or inside the house.’ He shook his head disgustedly. ‘Cops.’
Edward knew what that shorthand meant. Police had begun with a prime suspect, so the questioning of witnesses was suggestive. Are you sure you didn’t hear the shot until later? Are you sure she waited on the porch at all? Well, all the other witnesses are saying … And the story began to bend to the cops’ version rather than the original truth. Reality was altering, to one in which Amy was not just suspicious, but guilty as hell.
As they reached the car, Edward remembered something else, from when he was in the murder scene bedroom and heard that gun click. Edward had been exposed, vulnerable. Mike was in the closet, unknown to the intruder. It occurred to Edward that his friend had used him as a shield, waiting to reveal himself until the newcomer had shown her own intentions.
‘Thanks for your help with the gun-toting neighbor lady, by the way. If she’d shot me, would you have jumped out and taken her down or just waited for her to go away?’
‘You were in the line of fire already,’ Mike shrugged, starting the car and taking off. ‘Nothing I could do about that. But hey, I spoke up. Took her attention off you. Give me some credit. And be grateful you were in your sister’s wedding party,’ Mike added.
Edward laughed. ‘First time for that.’
NINE
Amy continued to have court appearances, approximately one a month, and Edward kept appearing with her. Every time, he expected someone to point out that he wasn’t a lawyer, even to be taken into custody for practicing law without a license, but he continued to go unchallenged. His suits seemed poor disguises for what he was, but they worked. In this building, put an orangutan in a suit and give him a briefcase and he could probably pass. Let him work out a plea bargain and see how well he did, before you decided whether to get a human lawyer.
And Edward still had the briefcase. It was nearly empty, but he carried it as part of the ensemble.
‘Come on, man,’ Edward continued to say to the trial prosecutor, in increasingly frustrated tones and David continued to hold up his hands, a gesture meaning, My hands are tied. Edward needed to work his way up the food chain.
At a late June setting, something out of the ordinary did interrupt the routine. At the end of the session the judge looked at him and said, ‘Come see me, please.’ He went out the door behind her bench and down the hallway to the court offices. Inside, Cynthia’s door was closed.
When he knocked her voice called, ‘Come in.’
Edward went in and she waved at him to leave the door open. Cynthia wouldn’t want to be seen meeting him behind closed doors.
Cynthia hadn’t stood up or extended her hand. She was still wearing her robe, which looked hot and uncomfortable, a black drape in Houston in the summer. Edward suddenly wondered what she was wearing underneath it.
‘Why are you smiling?’
‘It’s just so strange,’ Edward said. ‘Being back here. Everything the same but everything changed. You on the bench, for one thing.’
She stared at him for a couple of beats, as if he were criticizing her credentials, but then said, ‘I know. Crazy, right? But somebody’s got to do it. Someone has to make the decisions. And I think we do a pretty good job here.’
‘I hear that you do.’ Edward sat looking at her, his former partner in crime. Cynthia gave no hint they were anything other than lawyer and judge. No twinkle in the eye, no glint in her smile. He waited for her to do something to acknowledge their past, but Cynthia gave him nothing but a bland smile.
‘Edward.’ She drew herself up straighter. ‘I want to encourage your rehabilitation. I really do. If that means beginning to practice law again, and it happens to be in our court, fine. We will give you every aid we can offer.’
He waited for the but, which he knew was coming.
‘But this isn’t a therapy session, Edward. It’s a murder trial. And your own sister. We all know only a fool represents himself. Is it any wiser to represent a family member?’
‘No. It’s idiotic. I can’t believe I’m doing it.’
Cynthia sighed, a sound of relief. ‘Good. I was afraid … well, it’s between you and your sister. But it’s in our court. We cannot have you make a spectacle, an appeal to sympathy, or anything outside the law.’
‘When have you ever known me to do that?’
It was a deliberate gibe, another attempt to have her acknowledge that they had – one time, one show only, tonight on the big stage, folks – once made quite a spectacle together in a courtroom in this building. Cynthia looked down, cleared her throat, then raised her eyes to him again. Her eyes were dark brown, luminous. That one night they had shone a warm light on him strong enough to make him reach for her. But they were cold obsidian now.
‘You were a very good trial lawyer, Edward. You’ve been gone for a while, but that’s between you and your client. What I want to emphasize today is the decorum of our court. The court will not allow you to disrupt that. You understand?’
‘I do. If that’s what you wanted to tell me, it wasn’t necessary. I will not make a circus of this case. The D.A.’s office has done that, with this ridiculous capital murder charge. My only interest is in defending my sister. Since I don’t intend to keep practicing after this, I’m not concerned with furthering my career with publicity from this trial. All right?’
He had spoken rather harshly. Cynthia stared back as if deciding whether to respond in kind.
But she said mildly, ‘Good. We have an understanding.’
‘Yes, Your Honor. Is that it?’
She nodded. He rose and walked to the door, when the judge quietly said his name. She twirled her finger, a sign he took to mean to close the door, so he did and stood waiting.
‘I’m sorry for what happened to you, Edward,’ Cynthia said.
‘Good. I didn’t know. I never heard from you.’
‘It would have been very difficult to get in touch with you.’
‘I had a pretty fixed address there for a while. I would have been easy to find.’
‘That’s not what I mean. It would have been a bad idea to try to reach you, for both of us.’
He’d been in prison, so Edward didn’t think his situation could have been worsened. Cynthia meant protecting her own ass, which he’d understood all along. While he’d been going through the legal system, both ends of it, and being shat out the other side, she’d gone on improving her cre
dentials as a trial prosecutor, culminating in being appointed a judge. Yes, it would have been a very bad idea for Cynthia to have any contact with a jailbird former lawyer. Edward couldn’t have said how he might have pictured this meeting, but it wasn’t like this, with Cynthia’s cold refusal to acknowledge there had ever been anything between them.
‘I did my best for you, Edward. Believe it or not. The office wanted to come down much harder on you than we did. Much. I talked them out of that.’
‘Thanks.’
He stood waiting for some more personal connection.
‘But this is what I wanted to make clear. We will not speak of this again. Nothing about – your old case – must come up during this trial. And if you took this case because you think I will grant you some special favors in trial—’
‘I don’t.’
She nodded. ‘Good. We needed to be clear on that. I will treat you as I would any other lawyer.’
‘That’s all I expect.’
‘Good. Then let me add one thing and we will not speak of it again.’
‘I am grateful to you, Edward. But that cannot be expressed in trial. You understand?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I am grateful. I pray for forgiveness every day.’
‘Not to me.’ Almost instantly he regretted the remark, but since she wasn’t going to be doing him any favors anyway, it didn’t matter. ‘I understand, Your Honor,’ he added quickly. ‘You won’t need to remind me. Thank you.’
Cynthia nodded, a dismissal. Had she looked outraged there for a second? Remorseful, angry, any human emotion? If she had, she had suppressed it so quickly he hadn’t been able to see it. Edward went out quickly, not looking back.
Out in the courtroom Edward saw a lawyer he used to know. He waited while the man finished talking to his client, one of the prisoners in coveralls sitting in the jury box.
‘Hey, Ed,’ the other lawyer said as he stood up from his conversation. ‘You’re back?’
‘Apparently.’
Gene was tall, already a little stooped even though he was barely into his forties. It made his conversations seem intimate, as he bent toward anyone with whom he was speaking. ‘Didn’t you have a problem with the bar?’ he asked confidentially.
‘Yeah. But we patched things up. Can I talk to you for a minute?’
‘Sure.’ Gene stood listening.
‘I haven’t seen Cynthia as a judge. What’s she like?’
Gene looked around. Even though the bench remained empty he gathered up his briefcase and strode toward the doors with a head gesture at Edward.
Out in the hall Gene said, ‘You remember what she was like as a prosecutor?’
Edward nodded, ‘Always pushing, always pressing up against the line.’
‘Yeah. Well, she won’t tolerate that stuff now. Judge Cynthia would slap the shit out of her old self. And don’t ever call her anything except Judge or Your Honor. Don’t try to pretend the two of you ever knew each other on the other side. She will hurt you if you try.’
‘Black robe fever.’
‘One of the most virulent cases I’ve ever seen. No chance of recovery. I can’t imagine her home life. Her husband must have to ask permission to approach the bench.’
Edward said, ‘Thanks, man.’
Gene nodded. He still stood there, as if he hadn’t delivered the punchline yet. So Edward said, ‘Anything else?’
‘I used to think she bent the rules so hard because she was that tough. Now I’m not sure she ever knew the rules. But she’ll rule like she wrote the treatise on evidence. Don’t question her. You know how it is. The ones who are shakiest on their knowledge …’
Edward nodded. Judges who weren’t sure of the law came in two categories, the ones who were willing to listen, read opinions offered by the lawyers and even look up the rules. Cynthia was the worst kind, the one who would stand by her ruling, even if you could show her without doubt that it was wrong. It was painful to practice in front of such a judge. It could be dangerous.
But of all the lawyers in the building, Edward was the one with least to fear of being held in contempt and threatened with jail time.
Edward walked away thoughtfully. In Texas, we don’t choose judges at all. Voters make random selections on ballots, knowing nothing about the choices except their parties and genders. Not their experience, age, race. They pick judges without knowing what they look like, or whether they got out of law school five years ago or thirty; where they ranked in school, their legal experience, whether they’d actually tried cases or just sat in an office. So we get the judges we deserve: some capable, some not, some idiots. It is not a system designed to select Learned Hand or Oliver Wendell Holmes to preside over our trials. Good lawyers avoid the whole electoral process, because they have thriving practices they don’t want to jeopardize by putting their fates in the hands of ignorant voters. So we end up with judges who are among those who decided to run, who might have the experience or might not, might have wisdom but most probably do not. There’s no wisdom test to get on the ballot.
Then they put on the robe. Several things can happen to them after that. Some grow on the job, becoming at least experienced, if not wise. Others stop learning at all at that point, having already reached the pinnacle of the profession, in their minds. They certainly stop learning humility. Now Edward knew the worst kind would be presiding over his sister’s trial.
Edward had an appointment to see his father. Yes, an appointment. 4:30 in the afternoon, at the end of the day when Dad would be done with his patients, just the two of them to talk, as if they might have something to say ladies shouldn’t hear.
His father’s consulting offices were in a high-rise on the edge of the medical center, on the twelfth floor. There had probably been a view when the building first went up, but now just showed other similar buildings. Dr Hall was sitting behind his desk wearing a white shirt and a loosened tie. He had his glasses in his hand, gesturing, talking rather rapidly, so he didn’t see his son for a moment. There was someone else there in the visitor’s club chair, a man in uniform, whose long neck looked very stiff from behind.
Dr Hall noticed Edward and stood up, causing his visitor to stand too.
‘John, this is my son Edward. I’ve asked him to join us.’
It was news to Edward, that he’d be joining anyone other than his father. ‘Hello, son. This is John Dusin. A good friend.’
John Dusin was also a cop, Edward saw when he turned, a high-ranking one. Edward had never learned to read all the insignia on uniforms, but took a guess.
‘Hello, Captain.’
‘John is fine,’ the man said, gripping Edward’s hand firmly. He had a tanned, barely lined face composed of strong straight lines and he gave Edward a few seconds’ extra scrutiny, as if running through Wanted posters in his mind.
‘I asked John to join us,’ Dr Hall said, gesturing them into chairs, ‘to help us figure out what to do about Amy. John was telling me the investigation isn’t even ongoing anymore.’
‘I was trying to explain to your father,’ the man began. Edward now saw he was in some distress. His eyes made a silent plea to the lawyer son. ‘Once we’ve arrested a suspect, it’s no longer a police case. We hand over everything we’ve got to the D.A.’s office and stop working the case. Like on “Law and Order,”’ he added helpfully, turning back to Dr Hall.
Who looked very displeased. ‘I just don’t understand that. There’s still been a crime committed, hasn’t there? Isn’t it still your department’s job to solve it?’
‘When we arrest a suspect we feel we have solved it. Now, the D.A.s can keep investigating, they’ve got investigators on staff.’
‘But can’t you order your men to continue looking into the case?’
‘That’s not the way it works,’ Edward said, feeling himself in the odd position of helping out a police officer. ‘Each case gets only one solution, at least from the police department’s point of view. They have a lot of
cases, they have to move on. It’s a court case now, Dad, not a police one. As Captain Dusin says, the D.A.’s office can investigate further, especially if we give them some good reason to do so. And, of course, we’ve got our own private investigator working for the defense too. In court, police officers’ solutions sometimes turn out to be wrong.’
He couldn’t help taking that last shot and he felt the officer give him a sidelong look.
But the cop said, ‘That’s right. And I sincerely hope this is one of those times, Dr Hall.’ He stood. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to get going. I’m still on duty; this was just my break time.’
‘Thanks for coming, John. I appreciate it.’ But Dr Hall’s voice was flat, and he didn’t stand up, making it clear that a departing handshake wasn’t in order. The police officer seemed to flee gratefully, closing the office door behind him.
‘I saved that man’s mother’s life,’ Dr Hall said. ‘And do you know why? Because I did further tests and kept looking into her case, after another doctor had made a diagnosis that turned out to be disastrously wrong. You see? Further investigation saved her life. I thought John would understand that.’
‘Did you hear anything he and I just said? It’s not a police case anymore. It’s passed into another bureaucracy. He no longer has any authority over it.’
‘All right. Then next time I’ll have the District Attorney here. I’m sure I’ve done one of his friends or family members a favor.’
‘Her. Her family.’ Edward was still on his feet, staring at his father. He found this act hard to believe, his father turning into the Godfather, trying to reach his tentacles into the system. ‘And it wouldn’t work. You’d get yourself into trouble just by trying.’
‘Of course it works that way.’ Dr Hall still hadn’t looked up at his son. His eyes scoured the desktop. ‘I’ve worked in this city for nearly forty years. I’ve helped a lot of people. Many of them influential now, and when I finally ask for one little thing in return—’