Robert Whitlow - Deeper Water

I used one of the computer terminals in the library to research Moses' background. There were countless defendants named Jones, but only one with the first name Moses. I found a felony conviction for illegal transport of moonshine whiskey that corroborated Zach's suspicion that Moses' brain had been damaged by alcohol. I didn't know much about bootleg liquor, but I'd read that a bad batch could cause blindness, brain damage, or death. The county database didn't reveal any other convictions or subsequent arrests.

It was close to 5:00 p.m. when I called the district attorney's office. After waiting on hold for several minutes, the woman who answered the phone told me the case had been assigned to an assistant DA named Margaret Smith.

"May I speak to her?" I asked.

After another long wait a female voice came on the line. "This is Maggie Smith."

I identified myself and the purpose for my call.

"My first taste of the criminal justice system came when I was a summer clerk for the Braddock firm," she said. "I'll never forget it. My client was charged with simple battery of his fifteen-year-old stepson. I wanted to see my client behind bars, not set free. That case, and the fact that Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter has never hired a female attorney, are two big reasons why I decided to be a prosecutor."

"How many other female summer clerks have worked at the firm?"

"Several, but no women have ever made it onto the letterhead. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice place to spend the summer and looks decent on your resume, but unless things have changed, there won't be an opportunity for employment after law school. The history of male bias at the firm is conclusive, and everyone in town knows it." Smith paused. "Hold on while I pull the Jones file. I don't recall seeing it come across my desk."

While I waited, I wondered why God would miraculously open a door of opportunity with a brick wall behind it.

"I have it," the assistant district attorney said.

"When did you work here?" I asked, still thinking about her comments.

"Five years ago. Try to forget what I said. I guess I'm still bitter at the double standard. You might be the one to break the gender barrier."

"There's another girl at the firm this summer."

"Really? I was the only female clerk my year."

"Did they hire an associate?"

"Yeah, Ned Danforth, but he never clerked. Let's see now, twentyfour counts of simple trespass. Can't your client read a No Trespassing sign?"

"Actually, I'm not sure he can read. Were there signs posted on the docks?"

"I don't know. It's not a legal requirement to post private property. Look, I know Joe Carpenter wants you to gain experience by making my life miserable with motions and frivolous hearings, but I don't have time to play games. There are a lot of serious cases on my docket. Do your investigation; talk to everyone who lives on the Little Ogeechee River if you like; then make me a plea offer. If it's reasonable, I'll recommend it. On a case like this, I doubt Judge Cannon will give us a problem, and your client can get on with his life."

"Okay."

I wondered if I would sound as confident and forceful as Maggie Smith after I'd been practicing law for five years.

"And best of luck to you and the other girl working at the firm. There's always a first time for everything. If you get a job offer, I'll buy you a double of your drink of preference."

"That would be sweet tea for me."

"Whatever. Get back to me with your proposal."

A few minutes after I hung up the phone, Julie returned, looking frazzled.

"Do you like dogs?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then I wish Mr. Carpenter had given you my case. Ned and I got a list of the State's witnesses to interview. We drove through several run-down neighborhoods trying to track down people and ask them what they'd seen. I've never run into so many dogs in my life. Ned is allergic to dogs so he sent me to knock on doors." Julie pointed to her right leg. "Can you see the dog slobber on my pants?"

I leaned forward. There was a distinct shiny streak from midthigh to below her knee.

"I got that from the biggest, hairiest dog I've ever seen. A dog like that has no business living in Savannah. He should be in the northern tip of Maine."

"At least he didn't bite."

"I was afraid it was a preliminary lick before he chomped down. I ran out of there as fast as I could go."

"Were these nice neighborhoods?"

"No, the owners spend all their money on dog food. There was one house with two pit bulls. I refused to go inside the gate. A man heard the dogs snarling and came to the door. I yelled questions to him across the yard."

"What did you find out?"

"We didn't talk to everyone, but a few people remembered Ferguson because he wandered around after pretending to look at the water meter. I think I've figured out what he was doing."

"You've given up on the Halloween costume defense?"

"Yeah," Julie answered. "I'm serious. I think Mr. Ferguson was scoping out houses to rob."

"But you said the neighborhoods weren't upper class."

"Exactly. Poor people prey on other poor people. There were houses with burglar bars on the windows that I wouldn't want to go inside if the door was left wide open."

"And dogs in the yards."

"Yeah, the people bought those brutes as an alternative to a sophisticated security system."

"Is your client linked to any of the robberies?"

"I hope not, but if he's charged with burglary, it would be a felony and take the case out of my basket."

"When are you going to the jail to talk to him?"

"He's not in jail. He's out on bond working his real job."

"What does he do for a living?"

"Get this. He works for the city's animal control department. That's probably how he got access to a meter reader's uniform."

"And explains why he isn't afraid of dogs."

Julie rubbed her arm across her forehead. "Are you ready to leave? I haven't needed a shower so badly since I played soccer on a muddy field in middle school."

"I'm not trying to make you stay."

"Let's go together. I'm giving you a ride home. I want every detail about your lunch date with Vinny. Did he ask you out to dinner? Did he talk about his last girlfriend and why they broke up?"

"I didn't go to lunch with Vince. He had to meet with Mr. Appleby and a client."

"What did you do?"

"I went to the jail and interviewed my client."

"Then tell me about that. At least you didn't have to worry about getting mauled by a pack of dogs."

AFTER MEETING WITH TAMI, Moses finished his first trash run of the day. Then the deputy in charge of the dining hall ordered him to clean the tables. Each stainless-steel table was surrounded by four metal stools bolted onto strips of metal that extended like spokes from a central post. Fights during mealtime were rare at the jail, but if an inmate did lose his temper, a chair couldn't be used as a large blunt object.

Moses carried a plastic bucket of water in each hand. One bucket contained warm, soapy water; the other, clean rinse water. After wiping off each table and chair, he dipped a rag in the rinse water and removed the soapy residue. Moses didn't just clean the surface of the tables; he also scrubbed under the rims. The deputy gave him a screwdriver to dislodge fossilized pieces of chewing gum. Moses worked slowly. Getting done in a hurry wouldn't earn him any reward except an earlier return to his cell where he had nothing to do but lie on his bed.

The tall girl who talked to him said she wasn't a lawyer but then acted like one. It didn't make sense. She reminded Moses of the young woman with blonde hair who'd met with him a few days earlier. She said she wasn't a doctor but then acted like one. The blondehaired woman asked questions about his health, wrote notes on paper, listened to everything he told her, and told the jail nurse to give him a green pill every morning. Moses dutifully swallowed the pill, but he knew getting back to his life along the river was the only medicine he really needed.