Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

As Sara started laughing, so did Pop.

“What’s so funny?” Guff asked. The two struggled to catch their breath. “Wait a minute – you told him about my deck of cards thing, didn’t you?”

“And you fell for it!” Pop said.

“I’m sorry,” Sara added, “but when you got so excited, I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s beautiful,” Guff said, picking up a menu and putting it in front of his face. “Just pick on the new guy. If it makes the Tate family feel good to be bully for the day, be my guest.”

Outside the deli, the man with the sunken cheeks leaned on a silver parked car. He was in his early thirties, but his stark features made his age hard to guess. From his vantage point he had a clear view of Sara, Guff, and Pop. For five minutes he stared at them, lingering over Pop’s features. There’s another chink in her armor, the man thought as he crossed his arms.

“So how are you enjoying your new job?” Pop asked as he picked up his pastrami and corned beef sandwich. “Fun or dreck?”

“Fun,” Sara said.

“And about to get even funner,” Guff said. “Tell him about the case.”

“What case?” Pop asked.

“Nothing…”

“Tell me,” Pop insisted. “Listen to your friend.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Sara said. “In my first case, Jared and I are going up against each other.”

“So that’s it,” Pop said. “No wonder he’s not here. You’re at each other’s throats?”

“No, not yet,” Sara said, picking at a potato pancake. “He’s just been working hard, which makes me-”

“It makes you nervous, doesn’t it?” Pop asked.

Sara put down her fork and pushed away her plate. “Not only is he a great lawyer, but he knows me better than anyone.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about. When it comes to convincing a jury, you’re much more believable than he is – no matter how much preparation he does. He’s had it easy his entire life, and people notice those things.”

“Pop, please don’t say that. He’s worked very hard to get where he is – he hasn’t had it easy.”

“He has . He had it easy when I first met him, with his hotshot Yale cuff links, and he has it easy today. I love him like a son, but he doesn’t know what it’s like to struggle. He has no sense of appreciation.” Turning to Guff, Pop added, “First day I met him, we came right here, to my favorite deli, and he tries to pick up the check. Then he eats only half his sandwich, and I tell him to have it wrapped up so he can take it home. He says, ‘Why don’t you have it? It’ll just go to waste if I take it.’ Can you believe the gall?”

“I’m surprised you let him marry Sara at all,” Guff said.

“Guff, don’t encourage him,” Sara begged. “And Pop, please drop it.”

“Fine, fine, consider it dropped. But believe me, a jury won’t buy what he’s selling. They’ll be more impressed with you – you’re real people. Real, hardworking American people.”

“That’s great, Pop. Now if you could only tell that to my boss.”

At half past ten, Sara finally arrived at home. She hung up her coat in the closet and walked into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, she stared inside, looking for nothing in particular. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her and felt a hand on her shoulder. She grabbed the neck of a bottle of wine. Spinning around, she swung it through the air, but stopped herself short. It was Jared.

“Don’t do that!” Sara said as she lowered the bottle. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jared said, embracing his wife.

“What? Now you’re suddenly being nice to me?”

“I missed you. I was worried about you.”

“Then why were you such a jerk on the phone before?”

“I was just really busy,” Jared said. “You know how I get when I’m working.” As he continued to hug his wife, he added, “Do you know how much I love you?”

“Of course.”

“No, really,” Jared said, looking intently in Sara’s eyes. “Do you know how much I care about you? And how much I worry about you? Do you know I’d do anything for you?”

“Absolutely,” Sara said, wondering what had brought on this rush of emotion. “Jared, are you sure everything’s okay at work?”

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.” She gave him a kiss. “I just don’t want to see this case come between us.”

“It won’t,” Jared said, holding his wife tight. Over her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of the six portraits that Sara had done of him. The broken glass was long swept away, but the pictures were now unprotected. Staring at the vulnerable images of himself, Jared pulled her closer. “Nothing’ll happen,” he whispered. “I promise.”

“Can you get Barrow on the line for me?” Jared asked Kathleen the moment he walked into the office the following morning. “It’s important.”

“He really has you scared, doesn’t he?” Kathleen asked.

“What’re you talking about?”

“Kozlow. That’s what you want from Barrow, isn’t it? You want him to take a deeper look at Kozlow?”

As always, Kathleen was on the mark. But that didn’t mean he was going to tell her the rest. That would only put her at risk. “Why would I want to investigate my own client?” he asked.

“C’mon, Jared, don’t treat me like an imbecile. You can’t hide the bags under your eyes – you haven’t slept well in days. Since the day you met him, you’ve been running yourself ragged. And you’re getting to work so early, you’re almost catching up with me. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the guy is bad news.”

Jared looked around the office. No one would hear. “What makes you think that?”

“Haven’t you read his old file yet?”

“I know he’s got two arrests, but I haven’t had a chance to get through the rest of it. I’ve been busy with everything else.”

“Or maybe you’ve been putting it off because you’re afraid of what you’ll find.”

His jaw shifted. “Just tell me what it says.”

Checking the hallway herself, Kathleen leaned forward on her elbows. “If I were you, I’d be careful with him. The guy’s a walking time bomb. Two years ago, he had a run-in with a Brooklyn lowlife named Joey Gluck. According to the file, Joey comes home from a night of heavy drinking, arm in arm with a local prostitute. They quickly get undressed, but what they don’t know is that Kozlow, the little maniac, is hiding under the bed. As Joey is about to jump in the sack, Kozlow takes a switchblade and nails Joey’s bare foot to the floor. Then he crawls out and pushes Joey backwards, just to make it hurt a bit more. The scary thing is that when the case goes to trial, Joey unexpectedly decides to change his testimony. Says he suddenly can’t remember anything.”

“What about the prostitute?”

“They found her body the night after the attack. Heroin overdose, if you believe the autopsy.”

“You think Kozlow killed her?”

“You tell me. Here’s case number two: A construction worker named Roger Hacker comes home after a long day of work, heads straight for the bathroom, and takes a seat on the toilet. Suddenly, Roger thinks he hears a noise in the shower. Before the poor guy can even stand up, the shower curtain flies open and Kozlow jumps out. From what they could piece together, Kozlow punches Roger in the Adam’s apple and sends him to the floor. Kozlow kicks him in the face, and the head, and then one final one right in Roger’s shoulder. Collarbone shattered. For Kozlow, the message has been sent. Then our boy Roger does something stupid. He climbs to his feet, grabs a screwdriver from his nearby tool belt, and lunges at Kozlow as he’s leaving the apartment. Poor Roger never knew what hit him. The next-door neighbor, who of course wound up changing his testimony at the trial, said it sounded like someone was torturing a cat. And when the police finally arrived, they found the screwdriver jammed straight into Roger’s throat, while his eyes-”