Russell Blake - Silver Justice

Silver nodded. “I hope you triple-billed him.”

“That wouldn’t be ethical. But there were quite a few items that I’d somehow omitted from our calculations for your fee the last time we spoke. That’s why I’m an attorney, not an accountant.” Ben’s face could have been carved from granite. He opened a highly-polished burled walnut box on his desk and withdrew a rectangular slip of paper, then handed it to her. She took it, and her eyes got large when she read the script.

“That’s a hundred percent of your retainer back, plus a little to help compensate for the fees you must have incurred when looking at selling the flat. It’s not my place to probe too deeply, but I hope that will be satisfactory?”

Silver folded the paper and put it into her purse. “More than satisfactory, Ben. You do great work. As always.”

“Just trying to keep the world safe for single mothers, Silver. Today I did my small part.”

“On behalf of single mothers everywhere, I thank you.”

“I saw you in the paper yesterday, by the way. Congratulations. That’s a big achievement. You must be very excited.”

“I thought the photo made me look kind of…heavy.”

“Nonsense. You’re perfect. The camera always adds fifteen pounds. You looked stunning.”

“You’re very kind. So what now? Do I need to do anything more?”

“I’ll ask you to stop on the way out and sign a few documents putting this episode behind us. Beyond that, you’re done.”

Silver stood and extended her hand. “Thanks for everything, Ben. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I never have to see you again.”

He nodded and smiled as he shook her hand. “Believe it or not, I get that a lot.”

The sommelier brought the bottle of wine to the table and presented the label for Richard’s inspection. He nodded his approval, and the man made a big show of opening it and pouring a little for him to taste. He swirled it around in his mouth, then made an approving noise and gestured to Silver’s glass. She watched as the deep purple liquid filled the bottom fifth of the goblet. Once the man had left, they raised their glasses in a toast.

“All’s well that ends well,” she said.

“Bottoms up,” he suggested, then took a sip.

“Mmm. This is really good,” Silver enthused. “Better than the one we had the last time we were here.”

“I agree. Australian Shiraz. Big, bold bruiser of a mouthful.”

“G’day, mate,” she intoned in an exaggerated accent.

They bantered easily as they enjoyed each other’s company. Richard was sliding his hand over to hold hers on the tabletop when they were interrupted by the waiter’s arrival with their entrees — they had both ordered the ostrich special.

She took another taste of the wine.

“I really can’t believe how much I like this wine,” she said.

“It will go well with your ostrich.”

“Doesn’t everything go well with my ostrich?”

“Why, Agent Cassidy. Are you flirting with me?” he asked in a low voice, fixing her with a troubled look.

“It’s sexual harassment I was shooting for.”

“You don’t have to threaten me to get me to admire your ostrich.”

“Admiring it wasn’t what I had in mind, but it’s a start.”

They sipped their wine contentedly. Silver stared off at a distant table, losing the moment for a split second, then she picked up her fork, as did Richard.

“You still have him on the brain?” Richard asked.

She returned her focus to him. “Hard not to, isn’t it?”

“I’m with you there. But there’s no point in dwelling on all of it. We did our jobs. Our part is over.”

“I know. But I can’t completely let go of it. Kind of like a fixation. Once you know a little, you want to know more. Pretty soon you’re spending a lot of your time doing research that doesn’t lead anywhere good.”

Richard nodded. “I understand. In the end, though, it sort of is what it is. Neither you nor I can change the world. The best we can do is try to leave it safer for our stay on it. If I can manage that, it’s a good day.”

“You ever wish you didn’t know some of the things you know?”

It was Richard’s turn to stare off into the distance. “All the time, Silver. All the time.”

“Kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a highly imperfect world. Always has been. But yes, it does suck.” He took a large swallow of wine and then picked up his knife.

Under the table, her foot traced along his calf, settling the matter for the moment.

“You have a nice ostrich, too,” she purred.

“Did you know that an ostrich can hit a top speed of over forty miles an hour?” Richard asked conversationally. “Compare that to a human, who in perfect shape might hit high twenties.”

She took a bite and smiled. “Wanna race?”

Silver sat at the window, waiting for the inmate to arrive. Howard moved slowly and appeared to have aged fifteen years in the last month. He seemed surprised to see her, and then his face composed itself into its customary tranquil expression. He picked up the telephone handset, and she did likewise.

“Well, this is an unexpected surprise,” Howard said. His voice sounded strained, and something else. Thick.

“I’m full of them, Howard.”

“Yes, I suppose you are. How is Kennedy?”

“You got her hooked on Sherlock Holmes. She spends half her time now either reading stories or reading about him on the web. I had no idea there were so many sites devoted to a fictional sleuth.”

“He was always a favorite.”

An uncomfortable pause stretched until she broke it.

“How’s the writing coming?”

“Good. I actually got an agent, and we have a book deal. Big advance, too. Quarter million bucks. Too bad I can’t spend it in here.”

“That’s great, Howard. Sounds like you’ll get the word out.”

“That is what I’m hoping. The agent says they don’t put up that kind of money these days unless they plan to push it.”

“How far along are you?”

“About three-quarters of the way through. I’m now tackling the Federal Reserve. Most people don’t know that it’s a privately-owned bank that was created by the most powerful bankers of the era in 1913. Rockefeller, J.P. Morgan, Warburg, Lehman…”

She let that go by, preferring not to get into another disturbing discussion about the financial system.

“How are you doing, Howard?”

“I better write the last quarter fast.”

There wasn’t much more to say to that. They both knew he’d never stand trial for the killings.

“At least you have three squares a day.”

“If I wasn’t dying, the food would do it. It’s a really cruel and unusual punishment.”

They bantered a little more, and then the guard approached on Howard’s side of the glass, signaling that the visit was over.

That was the only time she ever went to see him. Silver had been hoping for some kind of closure, but in the end, she was only left with more questions.

~ ~ ~

Kennedy gripped Silver’s hand as they got out of the taxi, the anticipation palpable in her excited gaze at the grounds of the Metropolitan Opera House. Outside, huge banners celebrated the spring season of American Ballet Theater, including a full-length version of Giselle, which was their destination tonight.

They were half an hour early and already had their tickets, so as they watched the crowd of festively-dressed urbanites make their way to the theater, they played one of their favorite games, which involved guessing the story of a randomly selected person and then describing in great detail the specifics of their life.

Kennedy nudged Silver and gestured discreetly at a young woman with a dramatic, long, black dress, dyed black hair cut in a rough shag and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms proudly displayed as she walked with a young man wearing a stylish brown velvet suit cut in a zoot fashion.