Mark Gimenez - Accused

"If he was so afraid," the Assistant D.A. said, "why the hell did he sleep with the French doors open?"

The judge turned to Melvyn. "Why didn't you say something before now?"

"Attorney-client privilege, Your Honor."

"Your client's dead."

"The privilege doesn't die with the client, Your Honor. The personal representative may claim the privilege. She did. Miss Rawlins demanded that I keep the will secret."

"Why are you violating her instructions now?"

"So an innocent person doesn't go to prison."

An innocent person did not go to prison. Trey Rawlins' unsigned Last Will and Testament was read into the record by his lawyer, Melvyn Burke, who testified that Trey had expressed his intent to marry Rebecca Fenney less than thirty days before his death. Twenty minutes after Scott and the D.A. had made their closing arguments and the judge had instructed the jury on the law of murder, the twelve jurors voted unanimously to acquit Rebecca Fenney of the murder of Trey Rawlins.

The next morning, the cars were packed for the trip back to Dallas. They all stood outside the beach house; the girls were getting in one last run through the surf.

"Thank you, Scott," Rebecca said.

"Take care of yourself." He pulled out $1,000 cash and held it out to her. "I maxed out my last credit card."

"No, Scott, I can't take that. You need it."

"I have options."

"I have jewelry." She nodded past Scott. "And you have company."

The D.A. pulled up in his pickup wearing a fishing cap and smoking a cigar. He cut the engine and got out. Scott walked over; they shook hands and leaned against the truck.

"The old man and the sea," Scott said.

"Yep. Me and Hank, we're heading over to Bolivar, surf fish with Gus. Drink whiskey, smoke cigars, eat red meat. Man stuff. You heading home?"

"Yep. Father stuff."

"Good stuff." The D.A. nodded toward the beach. "Those your little gals?"

"Boo and Pajamae."

"Cute kids." He puffed on his cigar then gestured at Rebecca. "She going home with you?"

"No."

The D.A. nodded. "When you get back to Dallas, call that fourth-grade teacher."

"I think I will."

"I enjoyed working the trial with you, Scott. Honest defense lawyer, nice change of pace."

"Thanks, Rex. I've enjoyed knowing an honest prosecutor."

The D.A. smiled. "Two honest lawyers on the same case, what are the odds? I should've bought a lottery ticket." He sucked on the cigar then exhaled a ring of smoke. "Just so you know, I think the cartel killed Trey."

"Why?"

"Benito Estrada was found dead this morning, in his bed, a knife in his chest. That's the sort of thing the Muertos would do. Send a message."

"Damn."

"The day he hired on with the cartel, he signed his own death warrant."

They stared out to sea for a moment.

"Good thing you came down and defended her. Your wife. I came damn close to sending an innocent person to prison." He puffed on his cigar. "Scott, I really thought she did it. I wouldn't have prosecuted her if I didn't."

"I know. You're a good man, Rex."

"And you'll be a good judge. George-Senator Armstrong-called me this morning. Said Shelby withdrew her name for that federal judgeship."

Scott nodded. He figured she would.

"I think I know why," the D.A. said. "Anyway, George said you're it. Said he'd be calling you. Congratulations."

The D.A. stood straight and stuck a hand out to Scott. They shook again.

"I think justice was done, Scott." He checked his watch. "Speaking of which, I gotta go get Ted out of jail."

"Your Assistant D.A.'s in jail?"

"Yep."

"What'd he do?"

"Nothing."

"Why's he in jail?"

"I had him arrested last night."

"Why?"

"Well, I saw this movie a long time ago, about a doctor who's a real jerk, doesn't treat his patients like human beings, until he becomes a patient himself, experiences the other side of the doctor-patient relationship. I figured it might help Ted to experience law enforcement from the other side-getting pulled over and handcuffed on the side of the road, hauled down to jail, strip searched, hosed down, sprayed for lice, spend a night in the drunk tank with a bunch of stinkin' bums puking their guts out… Might give him a little perspective-not everyone who gets arrested is guilty." He chuckled. "And it'll teach him not to leak evidence to the press."

"Ted was the leak?"

"Yep. Pillow talk."

"Ted and Renee?"

"Makes you kinda nauseous, don't it? That lucky little bastard."

Scott laughed.

"That's how she knew Rebecca was out here, taped you two on the beach. Sorry."

The D.A. got back into his truck and blew smoke out the open window.

"Oh, almost forgot. Hank checked out the cops and everyone else who worked the crime scene. They didn't take the three million-the mob money."

"He's sure?"

The D.A. nodded. "He threatened them with Gus-a polygraph. Which got Wilson-the detective-to fess up to taking a couple of Trey's DVDs. Lacy Parker movies. I don't figure he'll be writing a book now."

Scott waved at the endless sand. "Maybe Trey buried that money out there somewhere."

"Maybe. Maybe some old-timer with a metal detector will find it one day. Buried treasure. Not Lafitte's, but three million, that'd spend pretty good."

He nodded at Scott then drove off. Before the black pickup was out of sight, Scott's cell phone rang. It was Senator Armstrong.

"Scott, you still want that judgeship?"

The politics and fingerprints had aligned for A. Scott Fenney, but did he want a federal judgeship that way? To be appointed by a politician like Senator George Armstrong? The choice was clear: Judge Fenney or Ford Fenney. He made his choice for his girls… for the dissed of Dallas… for Sam Buford… and for himself.

"Yes, sir, I do."

Politics was putting him on the federal bench, but Judge A. Scott Fenney would be about serving justice-one person at a time.

"Good. Because you're it. Shelby dropped out. When you get back to Dallas, call the FBI office to get fingerprinted and your criminal background check done. They'll coordinate with my office. Your confirmation hearing will be in a few months in Washington, but it's just a formality for district judges. What I say goes. Welcome to the bench, Judge A. Scott Fenney."

"Thank you, Senator."

"Thank you, Scott. For my daughter."

"Senator, may I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Do federal judges get the same health care coverage as senators?"

"The best. A perk of political office."

"Is there dental coverage?"

"Absolutely. And don't worry, only thing Democrats and Republicans agreed on when we passed the national health care bill was to exempt ourselves. We're not gonna ration our own care."

"Just the taxpayers'."

"Exactly."

Scott ended the call and thought, braces for Pajamae. The girls were still on the beach. Rebecca stood alone, watching them. Scott walked over.

"Was he here about me?" Rebecca asked.

"The D.A.? No. You don't have to worry, Rebecca. The jury acquitted you-you're free. Like I said, the government can't try you twice for the same crime. But still, you might want to move, start over fresh somewhere else."

She nodded. "Maybe I will."

Scott called the girls over then said to Rebecca, "I'm going to be a judge."

"Oh, Scott, that's wonderful." She hugged him. "You'll be a great judge."

Scott took her hand and squeezed it around the cash.

"Take it. You can stay here till the end of the month, it's paid up. Good luck, Rebecca."

"This time," Rebecca said, "you're leaving me."

Tears came into her green eyes. Scott brushed her red hair off her face and kissed her on the forehead. He then wrapped his arms around this woman he had loved and wanted the last thirteen years of his life. He held her for the last time.