William Bernhardt - Death Row

“That’s his story. I’m a good driver. Damn good driver.”

“But the cop pulled you over.”

“Right. And before he even gets out of his car, I can see him messin’ with that breath thing, you know?”

Ben assumed he wasn’t talking about Mentos. “You mean the Breathalyzer?”

“Yeah, that. He was gonna make me take that jive test. And I didn’t wanna.”

“Because you’d been drinking.”

“Because what do I know what’s gonna happen to me after I breathe into his little balloon? He says I fail, what do I do about it? Cops’ll say anything to put a boy from the ’hood away.”

“And so… you ate your shorts?”

“Well, I ripped ’em up first. Small pieces. Thought it would soak up the booze. So it wouldn’t show up on my breath.”

Another glance at the report. “The Breathalyzer showed you with a.12 alcohol concentration.”

“Yeah, well, so it didn’t work exactly like I planned.”

“And the police officer charged you for attempted concealment of a crime and resisting arrest. In addition to drunk driving.”

“You see what I’m tellin’ you?” Brown leaned forward, practically pressing his nose against the barrier. “Them cops’ll say anything to put me and my bros away. Anything!” He fell back with disgust. “So, what’ya say, counselor? Can you get me off? My main man says you’re a miracle worker.”

“The DA is offering to let you off with a fine, with one condition. License revoked. You can’t drive for eighteen months.”

“Eighteen months! No way. You gotta do somethin’!”

“Well, I can probably bounce the concealment charge. Maybe even the resisting arrest. But they’ve got you dead to rights on the drunk driving. Especially since you appear to confess everything in your statement.”

Brown rose out of his chair. “What you talkin’ about?”

“I’m talking about your statement. You gave the arresting officer a statement.”

“I did no such thing.”

“I have a copy of the officer’s notes.”

“I never did no statement, no way, no how. No, sir! I never gave them any kind of statement.” He paused. “I just told the man what I did.”

Ben blew out his cheeks. “Clarence, take the plea. I’m going to a party.”

Christina McCall scrutinized the business card in her hand. “You actually hand this out?”

The short man in the blue union suit nodded. “Clients, potential clients, everyone. Anyone who’s in trouble with the police or likely to be. You wouldn’t believe how effective it is. I’ve saved lives with that card.”

Christina scrutinized it carefully. It was thicker than most cards because it had a shimmering 3-D surface done up in swirling psychedelic colors. Beneath the colors, set out in boldface capital letters, were four pithy statements stacked one atop the other: don’t say anything. don’t consent to a search. the police are not your friends. you need a good lawyer.

She flipped the card over. In the center, above the address, it read: darryl cooke. a good lawyer.

“And this gets you business?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Oh-excuse me, Chris,” Cooke said, already moving away. “I promised Charlton Colby a word.”

Which was his way of saying he’d spotted someone more important to talk to. Christina supposed she shouldn’t fault him; he was just networking, like everyone else here at the Tulsa County Bar reception. In these days of cutthroat law practice, lawyers stealing clients from one another, big firms locking up the top corporate work, lawyers had to scurry for scraps and morsels. Any amount of kowtowing could be justified if it led to work. Preferably with a large profitable law firm.

Christina, on the other hand, had already been with a large profitable law firm. And hated it. She didn’t want to switch; she just wanted to see Ben start making some money for a change. He was a fine, hardworking attorney with a growing reputation. But as a result of a bad incident with a big firm early in his career, his connections to the local power brokers were severely constrained. And his social skills were pitiful. The fact that Ben constantly took time-consuming cases for people who couldn’t or wouldn’t pay didn’t help much, either. Christina had insisted that Ben attend this reception, in a desperate attempt to increase his interactivity in the legal community. This was supposed to be his assignment, not hers. So where was he?

“Christina! Is it really you?”

She heard the voice and winced. Ohmigod. Not Alvin Hager. Anything but Alvin Hager.

“Alvin Hager,” the man said, thrusting his hand into her abdomen. “How the hell have you been?”

She forced a smile. Alvin had been a young associate at Raven, Tucker & Tubb back when she’d been a legal assistant there. He’d had a big crush on her-the drooling puppy-dog kind. He was basically a nerd, but it seemed to her at times that pretty much all lawyers were, so she tried not to hold it against him.

“Christina, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you! I’m just-I’m overwhelmed!” As if he couldn’t restrain himself, he threw his arms around her and enveloped her in a tremendous bear hug. His faux mustache-too few whiskers thickened with some sort of gel-brushed against her cheek. “How did we ever lose track?”

“Well, these things happen. So how are you?”

“Oh… I’m slowly recovering,” he said, making Christina immediately wish she hadn’t asked. “I guess you probably heard-Candy and I gave up the ghost. Called it quits. After a year and a half of marriage, no less.”

Christina shook her head. “That long.”

“Yeah, sad, isn’t it? But I’m getting past the anger and, to tell you the truth, I’m rather relieved. I feel like a free man again. Like I’ve been reprieved from a life sentence. How about you?” he added, jabbing her in the ribs. “Still single? I hope, I hope?”

This would be a good time to fictionalize a lesbian relationship with a first cousin, Christina mused, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. “Yes, still single.”

“And still in the law game?”

“Yes. I work with Ben Kincaid.”

Hager slapped himself on the forehead. “Oh, my God, no! You’re kidding, right?”

“No…”

“Not him! Not that chump we booted out of the firm!”

“The one and only.”

“Oh, you poor dear. I had no idea! I mean, I knew you left the firm at the same time, but I never dreamed you’d still be with him after all these years.”

Christina tried not to bristle. “I like working with Ben. He’s a good attorney.”

“Oh, but Christina-this will never do. I know times are tough for legal assistants, but someone with your skills-”

“Actually, Alvin, I’m a lawyer now.”

For the first time, Hager missed a beat. “You’re-what? A lawyer?”

Did her newfound status threaten him? Christina wondered. Destroy some illusion he had of overwhelming the vulnerable legal assistant with his well-educated awesomeness? “And I like it where I am,” she continued. “Ben and I have handled some major cases. And won. We’ve helped innocent people avoid unjust charges-”

“Criminal law?” He made a gagging face. “Oh, Christina-it’s just too horrible!”

Christina felt her blood pressure rising. “I like what I’m doing.”

“But Christina-a girl with your smarts could work anywhere. I bet I could get you back in with Raven.”

“I’d sooner die.”

“Then one of the other major firms. I’m a partner now, you know. I have a lot of connections. I could put in a good word.”

Christina hesitated. She had come to network, after all. But the thought of leaving Ben and joining some big firm just didn’t appeal. “No thanks.”