Jeff Sherratt - The Brimstone Murders

Over the edge of the menu, I stole a look at Rita sitting across from me. In the candlelight, her cream-colored skin was flawless and her face was radiant with a youthful glimmer. I’d noticed before how lovely she was, of course. I’d noticed her petite, perfect figure and her beautiful features, but I’d never seen her quite the way I saw her tonight. She looked like an angel, and now she wanted to be just that-my guardian angel.

We ordered the pizza, and while waiting for Luigi to bring our food, I tried to explain the reality of being a criminal lawyer. “It’s not all that glamorous like on TV…” I started to say, but when she gave me a wary look, I changed my angle. “It’s not that rewarding.”

“Come off it, Jimmy. I’ve made my mind up. Criminal law is where I belong.”

“Actually, Rita, maybe you’d like corporate law better. Think it over. The best of both worlds. The clients will still be crooks, but, hey, they pay their bills.”

“No way, Jimmy. I’m thrilled to be with you and with the firm. And now I’m really excited. You’re my first client with serious problems! Isn’t that wonderful? …Oops.” She put her hand over her mouth, but I could still see the glint in her eyes.

I smiled. “I know, Rita, but…”

A shadow swept across her face. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me?”

“Oh no, of course I want you. How could you think that? I was just concerned about your career. That’s all. Really.”

Luigi brought the pizza and Cokes. He came just in time, saving me from delving deeper into my concerns about Rita’s experience. After we silently ate a few slices, I made up my mind. “Okay, Ms. Criminal Lawyer, where do we start?” I said.

She took one more nibble on the crust of her pizza slice, put it down, wiped her hands on the paper napkin next to her plate, and quickly took a sip of her Coke. Then she leaned into me, and with a determined look etched on her face, she said, “All right. Here’s the way I see it.”

“Okay,” I said, watching her eyes dance.

“The cops are looking at you for the murder. They’ve got evidence.”

“Yeah.”

“But their evidence sucks. Alone, it can be explained away.”

“Think so?”

Rita leaned back and twirled the straw in her glass. “Yes. What do they have? You had a legitimate reason to be at Hazel Farris’ place, and just because you own a.38 means nothing. After all, your gun wasn’t the murder weapon.”

“I haven’t fired the gun since I was a cop,” I said.

“Okay, but it’s the other thing that bothers me, the Section 32 thing.”

“Robbie’s escape.”

“Yes,” she said and took another sip of her Coke. “If they tie the two together, and they will, then…”

“Then I’ll be in deep trouble,” I said, finishing her sentence.

She raised her head. “Jimmy, it would go to motive for the murder.”

“Maybe they’ve already tied the cases together. Hammer said he had probable cause. That could be it. They’d figure I killed his mother and somehow Robbie knew about it. They’ll say I let him escape so he wouldn’t rat me out. But why would I kill her in the first place?”

“Doesn’t matter, Jimmy. They’ll only need enough to get an indictment. And how do we prove you didn’t kill her?” It was a rhetorical question. When I didn’t respond, she continued. “You’ve got no alibi and we can’t prove a negative.”

“Looks bad.”

“True, but I have a plan,” she announced, her eyes sparkling.

“Go.”

“We find Robbie, bring him back, and prove he’s insane. Just as you said all along. That will show that you didn’t help him escape in the first place. Once we do that, there’ll be no reason to tie his disappearance to the murder, no motive. Ergo,” she said, with a lilting smile, “no reason to figure you contributed to Mrs. Farris’ untimely demise.”

I sat thinking. There were a couple of loopholes in her plan.

“What do you think, Jimmy? Good plan?”

“Better than average.”

I didn’t want to mention it, but the problem with her plan was that we had no idea where to look for Robbie in the first place. God only knew where he could have gone.

Rita’s soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “I know what you’re thinking. How are we going to find Robbie?”

“Well, not really.”

“We’ll get Sol Silverman, the world’s greatest detective, to help us. You know he’ll do it. He won’t even charge you.”

“Think so?” I asked.

“Yes, he’s your friend. I know he’ll help. Try not to worry.”

“I’m not worried. With Sol helping out, and with you as my lawyer, how can I miss?”

I wasn’t worried; I was scared. After all, I was being questioned in connection with a murder. Who wouldn’t let that gnaw at his guts? And I had real concerns about Webster filing the Section 32 charge. Even if the homicide detectives found out I had nothing to do with the old woman’s death, assuming they found the real killer, I could still be convicted of the Section 32 violation, aiding and abetting. I’d lose my license to practice law.

Even though I wasn’t guilty of a crime-stupidity maybe, but a crime, no-getting off the hook wasn’t going to be that easy. Webster had the cop’s statement, and as Rita pointed out, how do you prove a negative? In other words, how do I prove I didn’t do it?

Oh, all the inspired rhetoric flowing from lofty sources said a person isn’t guilty until proven so in a court of law. And they always say the accused doesn’t have to prove his innocence. Bullshit.

Yes, Rita’s plan was a simple one. Find Robbie, bring him back, and prove to the judge that he’s insane. That would work, and as she said, Sol would help. Rita thinks he’s the world’s greatest detective. Why did Rita think that? I mused. Because Sol told her so, that’s why.

We left the pizzeria. The moon, a silver crescent drifting in the night sky among a scattering of gleaming stars, was high in the east. We walked silently to my Vette.

“Look at the moon, Jimmy,” Rita said. “It’s right next to that star. Isn’t it beautiful?”

I was dying inside and my lawyer was gazing at the moon. But I glanced up. The tip of the lunar crescent was pointed at the planet Venus, shimmering bright in all its splendor. Was that an omen, the moon pointing at Venus that way? Was the moon telling me to get out of town and move far away, preferably to another planet?

“Yes, Rita. It’s beautiful.”

When we pulled into the parking lot back at the office, we lingered a moment.

“I know you will do everything possible on my behalf, Rita, and I’m grateful.”

She gave my arm an affectionate pat and hopped out of the car. She didn’t have to say how concerned she was; the worry was in her eyes.

Sol took a sip of Krug Champagne and set the flute glass down on the linen tablecloth. “So tell me, Jimmy, what is this all about?”

When I’d called and asked for help finding Robbie, Sol suggested we discuss the situation over lunch, and now we were at Rocco’s. After we ordered, I told him the whole story, filled him in on the murder of Robbie’s mother, and mentioned how the homicide detectives were looking at me like I was some kind of suspect. Then I explained how Robbie had vanished at the arraignment. I told him that Webster had the guard’s statement, and now he was going to file charges, which could cause me to lose my license and possibly land me jail.

“Frankly, Sol, I’m getting a little antsy about the whole affair,” I said.

“That’s how it is being a lawyer, Jimmy,” Sol said in a convivial manner. “Got to take the good with the bad. Here, taste this veal.” He reached across the table with his fork. A morsel of veal was impaled on it. “It’s terrific, veal Oscar, named after King Oscar of Sweden or someplace like that,” he said. “You see, this king guy was…”