Robert Tanenbaum - Reversible Error

Amalfi said, "They, ah, wanted me to bring you in. Put the squeeze on you. Get a wire on you too. They figured you took out Tecumseh."

Fulton smiled without amusement and shook his head. "Can't trust nobody nowadays. Look, tell those assholes I'm the good guys. If they don't believe you, tell them to go to Chief Denton. We were trying to keep the lid on this, but it's blown now. Asses'll be frying like bacon downtown when this gets out."

Fulton opened the door. Amalfi said, "Hey, how about giving me my stuff back?" He tried to meet Fulton's contemptuous gaze and couldn't.

Fulton said, "I'll toss them under your car," and slammed the door behind him. Marlene had put nearly fifty hours of work into answering the motions in People v. Meissner. It all went up in smoke in less than three minutes. When the case was called, Nolan shuffled the papers before him, cleared his throat, adjusted his reading glasses, and said, "On reviewing the defense motion to dismiss, I find that the presentation of five individual cases of alleged rape to the grand jury was in fact prejudicial. The alleged rapes are separate and distinct crimes and cannot be used as evidence for predisposition to this particular homicide. Thus, the People's attempt to demonstrate a common scheme, pattern, or design cannot be sustained. As there is insufficient other evidence to support the indictment for homicide, that indictment is dismissed. The People may make a separate submission to the grand jury in this case, if additional evidence sufficient to support an indictment of homicide can be obtained."

Marlene was not surprised by this judgment. Nolan had telegraphed it clearly enough by his acceptance of Polaner's initial motion. No more would she have been surprised by the death of a relative long in decline; but, like such an awaited death, the loss hurt her deeply nonetheless. The greater pain, however, was attendant on what she now had to do: call up the women involved and tell them that their tormentor really had slipped the clutches of the law.

She put this duty off until the end of the day. She wanted to call them at home rather than at work, a little considerate touch, and all she could offer. It was dreadful nevertheless. Screams. Crying. Accusations of incompetence. Curses.

From Caputo there was a cold and quiet acceptance that was more chilling than any shriek. Caputo was now a defendant herself, on an aggravated assault charge brought by Meissner. It occurred to Marlene that she might be planning to finish the job. She said, "JoAnne, believe me, he's not going to get off. Somehow, we'll get him. We'll go over the evidence, hit the bricks again…"

Marlene barely believed this herself and Caputo was open in her disdain. "Sure, Marlene," she said. "That'll be great. Call me when it happens." She hung up.

There followed five minutes of blank time. Marlene tried to think of some reason for ever moving out of her chair again, and failed. She would stay there like Miss Havisham at the wedding feast, while spiders wove their webs in her hair and her clothes rotted. No, actually, she was going to get married and have a baby, preferably in that order. So she had to move. She tapped "Yellow Rose of Texas" on her teeth with the back of a Bic pen while the seconds ticked off on her little desk clock.

When the phone rang it jerked Marlene to attention like a shocked frog. The voice on the phone was muffled and accompanied by the sounds of chatter and music, as if the man was calling from a pay phone in a noisy lounge.

"Hey, how you doing?" it said.

"Who is this?" she asked.

"Who do you think?"

Her belly trembled. "Meissner?"

A laugh. "That would be telling," said the man. "Let's say I'm a friend of the court. Let's say I'm just a guy sitting in a bar checking out the foxes."

"You filthy little shit-"

"Uh-oh, you're sounding like a sore loser, Marlene. You ought to learn to take your lumps like a man. Face it, you were outclassed, baby. You didn't have a chance in hell of getting a conviction with that bullshit case. And do you know why?"

Marlene resisted the impulse to slam the phone down. Something in the gloating tone made her keep listening. She had heard it often enough, from criminals more interested in impressing with their cleverness than protecting their skins. That cast of mind was the prosecutor's best friend.

"No, why?" she said evenly.

"Oh, she's interested. She thinks maybe he'll make a damaging admission. No fucking way, babe. I'm not going to, and even if you get this on tape, there's no way you could ID my voice in this noise. Am I right?"

"I guess so," said Marlene. "Looks like you thought of everything."

"Yeah, I did. So, you want to know why you lost? I'll tell you. It's the system. It's designed to catch assholes. Hey, it's run by assholes. You know it's true. Nobody with anything on the ball ever gets caught. You think you'll ever touch the guys who are raking in millions-drugs, whores, stocks, real estate, contracts? No way. So, if somebody wanted to just, say, figure out the system, so he could get a little pussy the way he likes it, the system can't touch him. It only takes about forty minutes of real thought on the part of anyone with serious brains."

"Nevertheless, we caught you," she said.

"A minor flaw in the plan. It will be corrected, never fear. And don't bother trying to figure it out, either, you pathetic cunt. It's far too complex for your puny mentality. I suggest you confine yourself to nigger sneak thieves-they're just your speed."

He hung up. Marlene lit a cigarette and watched the smoke rise in a corkscrew spire. After a while her hand stopped trembling and the smoke rose straight through the close air of the little office. Something had happened during the conversation; something had changed in her mind, although she could not say exactly what it was. Remarkably, she felt better, even chipper. The defeat now stung less because she realized that it was only temporary. In some deep way he was vulnerable, or she could make him so. He wasn't as smart as he thought he was; if he were, he wouldn't have called her. She would have him, after all, somehow, and in a way no error could reverse. She grabbed her bag and went out, looking for Karp.

"I can't believe it!" Karp exclaimed when Marlene told him.

"Believe it," said Marlene, picking listlessly at her almond chicken. They were eating Chinese out of white cardboard boxes in Karp's office. The building was largely deserted at this hour, except for the arraignment courts and the operation of the complaint room on the fourth floor.

"Nolan was bound and determined to let him go, the fucker. I guess your bigwig friends wouldn't do anything about that."

Karp shrugged. "Who the fuck knows? I'm playing out of my league there, to be real honest. I mean, what could I say? Call Reedy and tell him to roll his tame judge? I don't even know that Reedy has a squeeze on Nolan."

"What did he say? Reedy, I mean."

"I told him that I thought Nolan was throwing the case because he had a hard-on for me because I had set the hounds on him because of the Booth thing. And I asked him what he thought."

"And?"

Karp smiled. "Well, it's sort of funny. He kind of hemmed and hawed and said that Nolan was a guy a lot a people gave stock tips to. Reedy knew for a fact that Nolan had picked up some stock on a deal that Reedy had made a pile on, but he wasn't sure who exactly had passed the tip along. He said Fane made a habit of doing that, passing stuff to pols and judges. So that could be it. Nothing we could prove, though."

"And this Reedy is Mr. Clean?"

"I wouldn't go that far," said Karp. He ate some beef with oyster sauce and added, "But I can't help liking the guy. He's at least out-front that he's a sharpster. He's funny. And, I don't know, he's nice to me, at least. You know, weeks go by and nobody bureau chief and above gives me the time of day unless I wrench it out of them. Not to mention fucking Bloom and his gang. It gets old, you know?"