John Grisham - A time to kill

"Uh, sure, Judge. Should I leave?"

"No, no. What's on your mind?"

"The Hailey case."

"I thought so. I saw your motion. Found a new lawyer, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I had no idea it was coming. I expected to try the case in July."

"You owe no apologies, Jake. The motion to withdraw will be granted. It's not your fault. Happens all the time. Who's the new guy Marsharfsky?"

"Yes, sir. From Memphis."

"With a name like that he should be a hit in Ford County."

"Yes, sir." Almost as bad as Noose, thought Jake.

"He has no Mississippi license," Jake explained, helpfully.

"That's interesting. Is he familiar with our procedure?"

"I'm not sure he's ever tried a case in Mississippi. He told me he normally associates a local boy when he's out in the country."

"In the country?"

"That's what he said."

"Well, he'd better associate if he comes into my court.

I've had some bad experiences with out-of-state attorneys, especially from Memphis."

"Yes, sir."

Noose was breathing harder, and Jake decided to leave. "Judge, I need to go. If I don't see you in July, I'll see you during the August term of court. Take care of your back."

"Thanks, Jake. Take care."

Jake almost made it to the rear door of the small office when the main door from the courtroom opened and the Honorable L. Winston Lotterhouse and another hatchet man from the Sullivan firm strutted into chambers.

"Well, hello, Jake," Lotterhouse announced. "You know K. Peter Otter, our newest associate."

"Nice to meet you K. Peter," replied Jake.

"Are we interrupting anything?"

"No, I was just leaving. Judge Noose is resting his back, and I was on my way out."

"Sit down, gentlemen," Noose said.

Lotterhouse smelled blood. "Say, Jake, I'm sure Walter Sullivan has informed you that our firm will serve as local counsel for Carl Lee Hailey."

"I have heard."

"I'm sorry it happened to you."

"Your grief is overwhelming."

"It does present an interesting case for our firm. We don't get too many criminal cases, you know."

"I know," Jake said, looking for a hole to crawl in. "I need to run. Nice chatting with you, L. Winston. Nice meeting you, K. Peter. Tell J. Walter and F. Robert and all the boys I said hello."

Jake slid out of the rear door of the courthouse and cursed himself for showing his face where he could get it slapped. He ran to his office.

"Has Tank Scales called?" he asked Ethel as he started up the stairs.

"No. But Mr. Buckley is waiting."

Jake stopped on the first step. "Waiting where?" he asked without moving his jaws.

"Upstairs. In your office."

He walked slowly to her desk and leaned across to within inches of her face. She had sinned, and she knew it.

He glared at her fiercely. "I didn't know he had an appointment." Again, the jaws did not move.

"He didn't," she replied, her eyes glued to the desk.

"I didn't know he owned this building."

She didn't move, didn't answer.

"I didn't know he had a key to my office."

Again, no movement, no answer.

He leaned closer. "I should fire you for this."

Her lip quivered and she looked helpless.

"I'm sick of you, Ethel. Sick of your attitude, your voice, your insubordination. Sick of the way you treat people, sick of everything about you."

Her eyes watered. "I'm sorry."

"No you're not. You know, and have known for years, that no one, no one in the world, not even my wife, goes up those stairs into my office if I'm not here."

"He insisted."

"He's an ass. He gets paid for pushing people around. But not in this office."

"Shhh. He can hear you."

"I don't care. He knows he's an ass."

He leaned even closer until their noses were six inches apart. "Would you like to keep your job, Ethel?"

She nodded, unable to speak.

"Then do exactly as I say. Go upstairs to my office, fetch Mr. Buckley, and lead him into the conference room, where I'll meet him. And don't ever do it again."

Ethel wiped her face and ran up the stairs. Moments later the D.A. was seated in the conference room with the door closed. He waited.

Jake was next door in the small kitchen drinking orange juice and assessing Buckley. He drank slowly. After fifteen minutes he opened the door and entered the room. Buckley was seated at one end of the long conference table. Jake sat at the other end, far away.

"Hello, Rufus. What do you want?"

"Nice place you have here. Lucien's old offices, I believe."

"That's right. What brings you here?"

"Just wanted to visit."

"I'm very busy."

"And I wanted to discuss the Hailey case."

"Call Marsharfsky."

"I was looking forward to the battle, especially with you on the other side. You're a worthy adversary, Jake."

"I'm honored."

"Don't get me wrong. I don't like you, and I haven't for a long time."

"Since Lester Hailey."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. You won, but you cheated."

"I won, that's all that counts. And I didn't cheat. You got caught with your pants down."

"You cheated and Noose let you by with it."

"Whatever. I don't like you either."

"Good. That makes me feel better. What do you know about Marsharfsky?"

"Is that the reason you're here?"

"Could be."

"I've never met the man, but if he was my father I wouldn't tell you anything. What else do you want?"

"Surely you've talked to him."

"We had some words on the phone. Don't tell me you're worried about him."

"No. Just curious. He's got a good reputation."

"Yes, he does. You didn't come here to discuss his reputation."

"No, not really. I wanted to talk about the case."

"What about it?"

"Chances for an acquittal, possible defenses, was he really insane. Things like that."

"I thought you guaranteed a conviction. In front of the cameras, remember? Just after the indictment. One of your press conferences."

"Do you miss the cameras already, Jake?"

"Relax, Rufus. I'm out of the game. The cameras are all yours, at least yours and Marsharfsky's, and Walter Sullivan's. Go get them, tiger. If I've stolen some of your spotlight, then I'm deeply sorry. I know how it hurts you."

"Apology accepted. Has Marsharfsky been to town?"

"I don't know."

"He promised a press conference this week."

"And you came here to talk about his press conference, right?"

"No, I wanted to discuss Hailey, but obviously you're too busy."

"That's right. Plus I have nothing to discuss with you, Mr. Governor."

"I resent that."

"Why? You know it's true.- You'd prosecute your mother for a couple of headlines."

Buckley stood and began pacing back and forth behind his chair. "I wish you were still on this case, Brigance," he said, the volume increasing.

"So do I."

"I'd teach you a few things about prosecuting murderers. I really wanted to clean your plow."

"You haven't been too successful in the past."

"That's why I wanted you on this one, Brigance. I wanted you so bad." His face had returned to the deep red that was so familiar.

"There'll be others, Governor."

"Don't call me that," he shouted.

"It's true, isn't it, Governor. That's why you chase the cameras so hard. Everybody knows it. There goes old Rufus, chasing cameras, running for governor. Sure it's true."

"I'm doing my job. Prosecuting thugs."

"Carl Lee Hailey's no thug."

"Watch me burn him."

"It won't be'that easy."

"Watch me."

"It takes twelve out of twelve."

"No problem."

"Just like your grand jury?"

Buckley froze in his tracks. He squinted his eyes and frowned at Jake. Three huge wrinkles creased neatly across his mammoth forehead. "What do you know about the grand jury?"

"As much as you do. One vote less and you'd have sucked eggs."