Scott Turow - Presumed innocent

Leon has not moved much, but his eyes are wide open as he listens to Lipranzer. There is no more play in his expression.

"Yeah, man, and next week, you need somethin else and you be bustin in the door at three clock in the mornin pullin this shit again."

"We'll tell you right now if we're ever gonna need anythin else. Just as soon as you answer our questions." What we'll need is for Leon to come down to court to testify, if he nails Molto. But Lip knows the ropes; you don't tell them that for a while. "Now don't bullshit me, Leon. Here's my first question: Did you or did you not pay fifteen hundred to make that case go away?"

Leon makes a sound. He sits up straight.

"That fuckin Eddie," he says. "You already know, man. Right? So why you be botherin me?"

"Leon," says Lip quietly. "You heard my question."

"Yeah, man. I paid fifteen hundred."

My heartbeat has become very solid now. Thump thump. expect to see my pocket jumping when I look down at my shirt. I speak for the first time.

"Did-the woman have anything to do with it? Carolyn? The probation officer?"

Leon laughs. "Yeah, man. You might say that."

"What?"

"Come on, man," he says. "Don't shit me. That bitch set the whole thing up, man. You know that. She tell me I don't have to be mopin round, she know how to take care of everythin. Real smooth. Real smooth. Man, I bet she did it a hundred times. Tell me where to go. How to bring the bread, man. Very cold lady. You hear me?"

"I do." I crouch down now like Lipranzer. "And was she there when you made the drop?"

"Right there. Sittin right there. Very cool. You know, man; 'How you do. Sit right there.' Then the dude start talkin."

"He was behind you?"

"You got it. She be tellin me when I come in. Don't turn round, just do what the man say."

"And he told you to put it in his desk?"

"No, man. The desk where I was. He say just leave it in the top drawer."

"That's what I mean. It was the P.A.'s desk, right?"

"Yeah. That desk."

"And you paid him, right?" asks Lipranzer. "The P.A.?"

Leon looks at him with irritation.

"No, man, I ain't gone be payin no little toad P.A. Am I a fool? He gone take my bread, man, and be sayin, Oh no, can't do it, just got the word from downtown. I heard enough of that shit."

Lipranzer looks over at me. He has not gotten it yet. But I have. Just now. Finally. God, am I dense. Dense.

"So who was it?" asks Lip.

Leon mugs. He does not like to tell a policeman anything he does not already know. I say it for him.

"The Judge, Lip. Leon paid the judge. Right?"

Leon nods. "Black dude. Was him, too, man. Behind me? I could tell the voice when I heard him in court." Leon snaps his fingers, trying to get the name. But there is not any need for him to bother. It's right on the order of dismissal. I take it out of my pocket to check. There's no missing that signature. I've seen it dozens of times in the last two months. It's as distinctive as everything else Larren does.

"So what is it?" Lip asks. It is nearly five now and we are sitting in Wally's, an all-night joint by the river. They used to be famous for doughnut holes, before the national chains got hold of that idea, too.

"Larren's porkin her and takin the money to keep her in style?"

Lip is still wired. On the way here, he stopped at some hole in the wall, a blind pig he knew about, and came out with a half pint of peach brandy, of all things. He drank it down like a Coke. He still had not shaken off our initial encounter at the doorway.

God, he said to me. Sometimes I hate bein a cop.

Now I shake my head at his questions. I don't know. The only thing I have figured out for certain in the last hour is that this is what Kenneally didn't want to tell me when I saw him last week. That Larren was taking. That's what pissed off the coppers back then. The judge was doing it, too.

"What about Molto?" asks Lip. "You figure he was in?"

"I figure he was out. I don't see Larren Lyttle in any triangles. Nico said Molto always looked up to Carolyn. She probably asked him to dismiss cases and he just obliged. I'm sure he had the hots for her like everyone else."

All very Catholic and suppressed, of course. That would make sense, too. That's the fuel that's kept Molto's engine running at high speed. Unresolved passion.

We talk it over like this for most of an hour. Eventually it gets late enough to have breakfast and we both order eggs. The sun is coming up now, over the river, that spectacular profusion of rose-colored light.

I suddenly think of something and laugh. I laugh too hard, with an embarrassing lack of control. A bout of juvenile hilarity. My thought is ridiculous, not really funny at all. But it has been a long and very odd day.

"What?" Lib asks.

"All these years I've known you, and it never really dawned on me."

"What's that?"

I start laughing again. It's a moment before I can speak.

"I never realized you carry a gun."

Barbara rolls over as I approach the side of the bed in my pajamas.

"Are you getting up now?" She squints toward the clock. It is 6:30. "It's early, isn't it?"

"I'm going to bed," I tell her.

She starts and rolls to her elbow, but I wave that it is not worth talking about. I do not think I will sleep, but I do. I dream of my father in jail. Barbara waits until the last minute to wake me, and we have to race. The traffic on the bridge is thick, and court is already in session when we arrive. Kemp and the two prosecutors are before the judge. Nico is talking. He looks dour and drawn, and his manner in addressing the judge can only be described as agitated.

I sit down next to Stern. Barbara had called to tell him we would be late, but she diplomatically omitted any mention of why. I spend the first moments of my whispered conference with Sandy assuring him that we are both in good health. Then he explains what is happening: "The prosecution has entered their hour of desperation. I will tell you about it when the judge breaks. They want Molto to testify."

I thought that was what Nico was talking about. When he is done exhorting the judge, Larren looks down and says simply, "No."

"Your Honor-"

"Mr. Delay Guardia, we went over this carefully the first day of the trial. You may not call Mr. Molto."

"Judge, we had no idea-"

"Mr. Delay Guardia, if I were inclined to allow Mr. Molto to testify, then I oughta declare a mistrial right now, because if this case ever got to the court of appeals, I say hypothetically-but if it ever got there, they would turn it around and send it right back. Mr. Stern asked the first day of trial about Mr. Molto's testimony and you said No how and No way, and that's how it stands."

"Judge, you said that we would be entitled to some leeway if the defense proceeded with this frame-up theory. You said that."

"And I allowed you to stand before the jury and make one entirely improper statement in their presence. Do you recall what occurred while Mr. Horgan was on the witness stand? But I should have had more faith in Mr. Stern's professional acumen than to suppose he would venture down that road without reason. I didn't know then, Mr. Della Guardia, that the state's chief piece of evidence was going to disappear after last being seen with Mr. Molto. I didn't know that Mr. Molto and the chief pathologist were going to manufacture evidence, or testimony-and I tell you, sir, that is a reasonable interpretation of the events of yesterday. I'm still considering the question of what happens with Mr. Molto. But one thing that isn't gonna happen is that he gets up on the witness stand and makes matters worse.

Now, what's the other thing you wanted to bring up?

Nico, is silent, his head bowed for a second. When he straightens up, he takes an instant to adjust his jacket.