Scott Turow - Personal injuries

"Figures," said Stan. "He's crunching your nuts because you didn't come through." Sennett was probably right, although a defense lawyer would argue that the judge had just called this one as he saw it, much as he had in King. Besides, there was a more ominous explanation now for Sherman's conduct: they knew. If Walter gave credence to Carmody's suspicions and circulated the news, that might account for both Sherm's rage and his eagerness to rule against Feaver. Either way, McManis and Sennett agreed that Robbie had to force a meeting with the judge. There was not much to lose. With the potential of suspicions arising about Evon, there was less time for patience and the case they had against Crowthers was too thin to prosecute. Judith was unlikely to flip on her brother, and Walter's stunts with Malatesta had emphasized the fallibility of treating a payoff to a bag man as proof of a judge's involvement. Amari's surveillance had never traced Robbie's money from Judith to the judge. They met, but nobody could ask a jury to draw a criminal inference from a get-together between siblings.

On Thursday, May 6, Robbie appeared in the small reception area of Crowthers' chambers and asked to see him. Sherm's sheer size and his aggressive character presented a new risk. There was no telling exactly what he would do if he felt cornered or provoked. For that reason, Evon, again equipped with the infrared earpiece, was lurking right outside the chambers' door. Stan and McManis and I were in the surveillance van, which was parked on Sentwick, one of the side streets bordering the courthouse.

Amari's watchers had confirmed that Crowthers was in his chambers. After a long wait, during which Robbie entertained us with a softly whistled version of most of the score of Phantom of the Opera, Sherm's secretary announced the judge would see him. Sherman's firm basso cut off Feaver's cheery greetings.

"What brings you here, Mr. Feaver?"

Robbie seemed to hesitate.

"Judge, I guess this is a personal thing. I just-"

"Feaver, I never meet lawyers alone. Seems to me you've been round this courthouse long enough to have heard that. I always ask Mrs. Hawkins to stay here. Or to be sittin right outside the open door. Nothin personal. Just good practice."

Crap, mouthed Sennett from his folddodown seat across from me. Robbie, who'd never approached Crowthers directly, was clearly taken by surprise.

"Well, Judge, this is really awfully embarrassing this way."

"Nothin embarrassin about it. Just say your piece."

Inspired, McManis pulled his cell phone from his briefcase and dialed Crowthers' chambers. We could hear the phone pealing over the FoxBlte, but Mrs. Hawkins, apparently, was not about to move. Robbie, however, had had an inspiration of his own.

"Well, Judge, there was a young lady in my office this morning, Judge, and she wants to bring a paternity suit against Your Honor."

Mrs. Hawkins reacted first, a startled trill, as if she'd been pinched.

"Pa-ternity suit!" Crowthers thundered. "Who's this? Who in the hell is this female scalawag gone try shake some money out of my tree? No. Wait. Mrs. Hawkins has no need to hear this. Wouldn't want to, I'm sure. You go on, Mrs. Hawkins. Not a word of truth in this, Mrs. Hawkins, I assure you. Mr. Feaver and I are gone get to the bottom of this thing right now."

The door closed soundly enough to suggest Mrs. Hawkins was miffed.

"Hey, Judge, I'm sorry about that." Robbie's voice had grown smaller and he was clearly moving closer to the heavy paper-strewn desk where Crowthers sat. "I've been trying to get with you for weeks. I gotta explain. About King?" he said, meaning the case about the ornery executive who'd harassed his former secretary.

There was no response. Crowthers did not so much as clear his throat.

"See, Judge, this is really embarrassing. I know you didn't see what you were expecting, but this chick, the plaintiff, Olivia? She didn't sign, Judge. I thought the paralegal'd gotten her to do it, she thought I had. But, bottom line, I don't have a fee agreement. And you know, Judge, she's an operator. Olivia? She knew what she was doing. She's already got another lawyer telling me he's going to Bar Admissions and Discipline if I don't release the whole check to her. I mean, it's a pisser, Judge. I say implied contract, he says, Okay, $300 an hour, send her a bill. Can you imagine, Judge? Five-hundred-thousand-dollar settlement and she's looking for an hourly fee."

Nothing. As I imagined the scene, Crowthers, an immense presence, sat behind his large desk, his eyes and the huge whites turned upward to Robbie and almost throbbing with anger, his nostrils widened in a primal flare. Anyone's first instinct would be to cut and run. But Robbie kept scraping out his apology for shortchanging the judge.

"If I get five thousand out of the case it's a lot. I mean, what can I do, Judge? That's why I was light with Judith. Between you and your sister, you figure taxes and expenses, you guys got everything on this one. The whole chile relleleno."

Still no sound. There was nothing, not even a grunt that might have passed for assent. Facing this recording, a defense lawyer was likely to maintain that the judge was no longer there, that Robbie was talking to himself as a desperate way to enhance the body count and improve his sendotence.

Beside me, McManis whispered, "He's getting smoked." Sennett nodded.

Then it turned worse.

"What the hell is this?" Crowthers asked suddenly. "What kind of crazy shit are you talkin? In my entire life, I have never heard such stupid, crazy shit."

Even Jim groaned on that one. As with Malatesta, Bobbie's instructions were to cut it short if he began eliciting denials, and his clothing shifted roughly over the microphone, as he started for the door.

"Right, judge, you're right, I was just really stupid. I know that. I'll catch up next time. Scout's honor. And I'm going to tell her out there, Mrs. Hawkins? I'll tell her it's a mistake and all, that- What?" At the edges, Robbie's voice raveled in alarm. A spring sang out. You could hear the chair rolling with velocity and a rocking sound as it hit the wall.

"What?" Robbie said. "There-"

The smack of flesh on flesh was distinct. I was certain Crowthers had slapped him. The mike jostled harshly as Robbie rocked and he cried out simultaneously, but that was stifled quickly, even as Robbie tried to speak. Sherm had gotten hold of him. By the mouth or the throat. Doubled over, McManis scrambled up toward the front and told Amari to alert the covering units. In the meantime, from Feaver's gargled sounds and the thumping of his bootheels, I decided he was being dragged along. A door slammed, in an oddly resonant way, then there was a whooshing sound, some kind of whispering in the background almost like static.

"Who you?" It was Crowthers in a harsh whisper, somewhat muffled by the persistent noise in the backdrop.

"Water," said Amari in front, identifying the sound.

"Christ," said Stan, "he's got him in the john."

Jim had the cell phone out of his pocket. He was dialdoing a number, Evon's pager, I imagined, ready to signal her to go in.

They had to be standing very close in the little bathroom that adjoined Crowthers' chambers. I'd seen the facilities in the Temple on a number of occasions and there was barely room for one person, especially somebody of Sherm's size.

"Listen, here," the judge said. "I'm just standin here wonderin who the hell you're thinkin you are? What'm I suppose to call you, Chatty Kathy? What the hell you doin, man? You know better'n that. I don't want to be hearin bout this crazy shit."

"Judge, I'm not trying to mess with you." It was a relief to hear Feaver's voice. "I just wanted to be sure you're riot creased."

"I'm creased, okay, specially about the way you goin on. Now, cut that shit out. If I'm not satisfied with the way you attend to your business, you gone know that. And seems to me, you do. Am I right?"