Scott Turow - Presumed innocent

"Don't do that," I tell him quickly. "I don't want your help. And I don't want Larren's, either."

"What's wrong with Larren? I would figure you'd worship that guy."

"He's your friend, for one thing."

Horgan laughs. "Boy, you came up here with one idea in mind, didn't you? You just want to piss all over me." Raymond pushes the plate aside. "You want to give me twelve years' backtalk in five minutes? Fine, go ahead and do it. But listen to me. I didn't set you up. You want to take a dump on somebody? Tommy deserves it. So does Nico, as far as I'm concerned. Join the crowd. If you want, I'm sure you can contact the Bar Association. They'll move you to head of the line and let you take a public crap all over both of them."

"They already called. I told them I had nothing to say."

"So why me, huh? I know you didn't like seeing me on the witness stand, but did I lie up there? I didn't say a goddamn thing that didn't happen. And you know that, brother."

"You lied to me, Raymond."

"When?" For the first time, he's surprised.

"When you gave me the B file. When you told me how Carolyn asked for it. When you told me that it was a bullshit allegation."

"Oh," says Horgan slowly. He takes a moment to adjust. But he does not falter. Raymond Horgan, as I always knew, is tough. "Okay. Now I get it. Some little birdie has been whispering in your ear, huh? Who was it? Lionel Kenneally? He was always your asshole buddy. You know, there are a few things you might like to hear about him, too. Nobody's a hero, Rusty. You got your nose bent out of shape about that? Fine. I'm not a hero. Some other people weren't heroes. That was nothing to do with you being charged with murder." He points at me, still unflummoxed.

"And how about my getting a fair trial, Raymond? Did you think about that? Did you know whether or not Larren was going to tool me because he wanted to keep that thing under wraps?"

"He's not that kind of guy."

"He's not what kind of guy? We're talking about somebody who sold his robe. Come off it. The only thing he cared about-or you, for that matter-was making sure nobody found out. Let me ask you something, Raymond. How was it that my case got drawn to Larren? Who gave Ed Mumphrey the call?"

"Nobody gave Mumphrey any calls."

"Just dumb luck, huh?"

"So far as I know."

"Did you ever ask?"

"Larren and I didn't talk about your case. Ever. Not once that I remember. I was a witness, and as strange as it may sound to you, we both behaved properly. Look," he says. "I know what you think. I know how it sounds. But, Rusty, you're talking about bullshit. It's something that happened to the guy nine years ago, when he had his head stuck completely up his ass."

"How did it happen, Raymond?" I ask, my curiosity for a moment greater than my anger.

"Rusty, I don't know what the fuck went on. I talked to him about it exactly once. And the conversation didn't last any longer than it had to. He was drunk on his ass half the time in those days. You know, she was the P.O. Guys on bond would give her their sob story. She started putting in a word with the judge. And he'd go along. I'm sure he thought it'd make her happier to lift her skirt. One day, one of these guys she's helped out gives her a C-note for her troubles. She brings it to Larren to figure out what to do. He thinks it's funny. She does, too. They go out and blow it on dinner. One thing leads to another. They had a high old time, I guess. He always thought it was like a fraternity prank. They both did."

"And you hired her, knowing this?"

"Rusty, that's how I hired her. Larren was giving me all this hearts-and-flowers crap about how broke she was from paying off her law school tuition and making 11K a year as a P.O. I said, fine, I'd double her salary, but knock this shit off. I thought I'd leave her out there as a deputy. Nobody ever liked those assignments. And with two other deputies to watch her, what could she do? And instead, it turns out that she did a helluva job. A hell of a job. She wasn't long on scruples, but the lady had a lot of brains. And I finally got Larren transferred downtown. And he performed with real distinction. I'll go to my grave believing that. No one will ever be able to knock Larren's integrity on his handling of a felony case. A year later they were both so respectable they didn't even talk to one another. If she exchanged ten words with Larren in the last five, six years, I'd be amazed. And, you know, as the time passed, it got to the point that I could see what he saw in her. You know what came of that."

This, of course, is the answer to what puzzled me last spring. Why did Carolyn make her move first for me rather than Raymond, when she perceived the prospective vacuum at the head of the office. It was not my manliness, my dark good looks. I was fresher, nowhere near as wise. She probably figured Raymond would know better. He should have; maybe he even did. Maybe that's why she didn't end up with what she wanted, why Raymond gave no sign of having been pained. He saw her coming. He knew what to look for.

"Well, isn't that nice," I say. "Everything worked out. Until you get a certain piece of anonymous correspondence. And so you gave her that file to trunk."

"No, sir. No way. I gave it to her. I didn't know what it was. I told her to look at it. And to bear in mind that she could never tell who might come looking over her shoulder. That's all I said. What do you want from me, Rusty? I'm seeing the gal by then. Am I supposed to pretend? If I was such a burn, I'd have done just what you said. Headed for the shredder with the thing."

I shake my head. We both know he is much too careful for that. No way to tell who may come looking for the letter. That's the kind of job that a Medici like Raymond knows he should hand off. And with instructions that will never bounce back on him. Very artful. Investigate. See what's going on. And what goes unspoken is that if it has to do with Larren and you, clean the mess up very carefully. Carolyn certainly tried. I don't have to wonder anymore who had Leon's arrest file from the 32nd District.

"And when she got cooled, you ran and collected the file?"

"When she got 'cooled,' as you put it, I got a call from His Honor. You know, I had told him about the letter when the thing came in. So he's on the phone the day they find the body. Pure Larren, too. He's always been a sanctimonious asshole. He says to me, It might be politically sensitive, why don't I collect that file?" Raymond laughs. Alone. I do not relax my severe expression. "Listen, Rusty, when you asked me, I gave you the thing."

"You had no choice. And you tried to mislead me anyway."

"Look," he says, "he's my friend."

And the key to Raymond's black support. If Raymond had ever prosecuted Larren Lyttle, or let somebody else do it, he could have just as well resigned as run for reelection. But I don't mention that. Disgust has finally displaced some of my anger.

I stand up to leave.

"Rusty," he says to me, "I meant what I said. I want to help you. You give me the high sign and I'll do whatever you want. You want me to kiss Augie Bolcarro's ass in Wentham Square at noon so he'll make you a judge, I'll do it. You want to work for the big bucks, I'll try to arrange that, too. I know I owe you."

What he means is that he wants to keep me happy, now more than ever. But his genuflection is still soothing in a way. You cannot continue pounding a man who's on his knees. I say nothing, but I nod.

On the way to the door, Raymond again points out all the modern art along the walls. He apparently has forgotten that he gave the same dime lecture to Stern and me. As we're parting by the elevator, he reaches for me and tries to take me into an embrace.

"It was a terrible thing," he says.

I break away, I actually shove him slightly. But there are people around and Horgan pretends not to have noticed. The elevator arrives. Horgan snaps his fingers. Something has come to mind.