Scott Turow - The Laws of our Fathers

'Okay, Froggy,' says Hobie. 'Pluck your magic twanger. Let's blow.'

'So?' asks Seth, as soon as they are on their way back across the yard.

'"So," what?'

'So what do you think? You going to get him off?' 'Wouldn't really know. I left my crystal ball at home.' 'Yeah, but how does the case look?' 'Beats me. I didn't talk to him about it.' 'Christ, what the hell did you talk about then for forty minutes? O.J.?'

'What I talked to this young fellow, my client, about is none of your business. But what I discuss with every client first time I meet em is my fee.'

'Your fee!'

'Hell yes, my fee. I asked you, first thing – didn't I ask you, "Can he afford a lawyer?" And you told me, "No problem." Hell yeah, I talked to him about my fee. I pay alimony to three mean women.'

'How much?'

'That's none of your goddamn business, either. I told him what I get, which is one hell of a lot, and he says he can handle it. That's jazz to me. I don't ask em where-all it's coming from. Long as he ain't stickin up my mother. All I care is check comes upfront and clears.'

'Jesus,' says Seth. 'What are you doing out of your coffin in daylight?'

'You wanna hear stories about gettin beat? I'll tell you stories. I had one sumbitch handcuffed his woman to the radiator, just to prove he'd be back with the money soon as we finished in court. And you know what I ended up with? Bill for the fuckin hacksaw.'

Seth laughs out loud. Hobie's bullshit is still the best. Reality so seldom intrudes.

'Upfront,' Hobie repeats. 'In hand. Period. You find him another lawyer that won't do him like that, that lawyer isn't worth having, because he doesn't know shit.'

'Nobody said anything about another lawyer. I told you, he wants somebody who isn't from around here, so he's sure they won't be beholden to Eddgar. I promised him he can be damn certain of that with you.'

Hobie pauses for reflection, a huge pile of a person, the color of dark oak. As he has grown older, little dark flecks of melanin have appeared around the deep wells of his eyes, and his hairline, while not as sadly reduced as Seth's own, has undergone a mature retreat. Softly styled and salted with errant kinks of grey, his hair combines with the beard and the fine suit to lend a subdued edge to his volatile persona.

'See now, this is what I don't savvy,' Hobie says. 'Eddgar's no kind of pissed with Nile. He says Nile bolted right after the shooting and is refusing to talk to him.'

'Where do you get that? Dubinsky?'

'Eddgar. Called me in DC last night. The warden told him I was counsel.'

'Jesus Christ. Why didn't you say you talked to Eddgar?'

'Listen here,' says Hobie. He stops again in the midst of his rumbling forward movement. 'You know, you have got the wrong picture. You got the wrong idea. You know what you are here? You're like the matchmaker. What's that word? The shotgun?'

'In Yiddish? The shadkin?’

'That's it. You're the shadkin. Now, the shadkin don't get in bed with the bride and the groom. You want me to represent this young man? Okay, I'm gonna do it. But I can't be discussin every detail with you. I got privileges to protect. You better get straight on that right now. This isn't high school. So don't keep askin me what my client's told me. And don't you talk to Nile about this case anymore either. This is a trial,' he says, 'this is war. You gotta think four steps ahead. Fourteen. Those prosecutors lay a subpoena on you, I don't want you to have squat you can testify about. This is murder, man. Serious shit.' Hobie loves this, Seth knows, the superior knowledge, the strutting around, the gravity of his mission. At least it isn't murder one. The state charged conspiracy to commit second degree. No death penalty. Seth checked himself.

'Well, what did Eddgar want anyhow?'

'Listen to you,' says Hobie. 'What did I just carry on about?' Yard time is over and the place has regained a sullen air. The inmates are all locked down for the afternoon count, but one or two still call after them from windows high above. 'Hey, slick. You lookin good.'

'Eddgar's gonna throw Nile's bail,' Hobie says finally. 'That's what he called about. Says he's willing to put up the family manse – $300,000 worth. I gotta go see him this afternoon. How's that hit you?'

It doesn't sound like Eddgar is what Seth thinks. 'Confused me, too,' admits Hobie. 'Even Nile was pretty much astounded.'

'Maybe Eddgar's developed a conscience. Maybe he's bugged by the ironies of the situation. I mean, have you thought about this? Nile's in jail for murder and Eddgar's been walking the streets for twenty-five years. It's incredible.'

'Could be it runs in the blood,' says Hobie.

'Oh, that's cute,' says Seth. 'You're the one who's supposed to think Nile's innocent.'

'No, man, no way is that my job. My job is to get him off. Period. I don't know what happened. And if I can avoid it, I don't ask, either. They gotta unburden themselves, or spin a tale, well bless them, then I have to listen. But the game here, man, is can the state prove them guilty? That's all. Whether they did it, or some dude named Maurice did it, you know, I don't worry my little mind.'

'He's innocent.'

'No, he told you he's innocent. There's a whole world of difference.'

Half a continent away, Nile, on the pay phone, had issued a nasal denial. 'It's bullshit. They say I paid this guy $10,000 to set this up and it's bullshit, all of it, the $10,000, all of it, it never happened.' The fierce desperation of this declaration had been too daunting for Seth to probe, unsure if Nile – or, Seth's darkest fear, the denials – might fall apart. He encourages Hobie now, much as he has bolstered himself in the last few days.

'He's too feckless, Hobie. He's never had the first clue.'

'Listen, Jack, you better take yourself a reality pill. No decent prosecutor's gonna go puttin on a piece-of-shit gangbanger to call a white boy a killer without plenty of corroboration. Not even considering that Nile's daddy's a politician in the same damn party as the PA, somebody they'd want to cut any break they could. Get yourself ready, man, cause the state's gonna bring some evidence to that courtroom.'

Seth is listening. This is the first he's heard of how Hobie really looks at it. When they were cruising in from the airport, it was old times and new times, the state of the world with Lucy, the latest on Hobie's kids. Now that they're here in the scariest place on earth, Hobie is giving him the logic: Nile's guilty. That's what he's saying. The prosecutors wouldn't have brought the case if they had a choice.

'Well, he's gotta have a chance, doesn't he?'

'Seth, man.' Hobie stops to face him, his dark eyes bloodshot and direct. It is the rare moment between them, fully sincere. 'I'm gonna go full-out. Okay?'

'What about Sonny? Doesn't it help to have a judge who knows him? And you?'

‘I don't know her anymore. You don't even know her anymore.

And I don't know what she thinks about Nile and whether that's any good for him a'tall. Besides,' Hobie mutters, 'she may damn well take herself off this case.'

'You mean she might not be the judge?'

'Maybe not. And even if she decides to keep it, could be I make a motion to disqualify her.'

'No,' says Seth. 'Really?'

'Whoa,' says Hobie. 'Look at you. Damn, I knew you were gonna be like psychotic, waitin till you see that lady up on the bench. Tell me that ain't so. You're transparent, man. You musta been a store window in a prior life.'

Seth laughs. A strange coincidence, he says. Life is full of them.

'All the fucked-up luck,' says Hobie. 'Honestly,' he says, and after further reflection adds, 'Shit.' He fishes his mouth around as if he might spit. 'See, man, you never change. You're still like cr-azy with that whole California scene we went through. Nile. Sonny. Eddgar. You won't ever let go of it. You gotta write about it. You gotta think about it. Then you gotta write about it some more. I oughta call you Proust. Honest and truly.'