David Rosenfelt: Dead Center

“How do you know Laurie?”

“We lived next door to each other growing up. She and my little sister were best friends. She’s gotten to know Jeremy some since she moved back.”

Laurie’s doubt about Jeremy’s guilt is compelling. She has spent her adult life in law enforcement, and in the face of powerful evidence is not inclined to take the side of the accused. It’s the main reason I don’t think she ever felt fully comfortable working for a defense attorney like me. She was always concerned she might contribute toward letting a guilty person go free.

Also adding to the significance of Laurie helping Jeremy is her position as acting chief of police. She has taken a real chance of alienating her constituency by facilitating the conversation between Davidson and me.

My sympathy for Davidson is starting to be challenged by my desire to get home and watch football. “What is it you want from me?” I ask. “I don’t know nearly enough about the facts of the case to make any coherent recommendations.”

He’s obviously surprised by the question. “I want you to represent Jeremy.”

I guess Laurie forgot to mention that part. “Mr. Davidson, that is not going to happen. I’m sorry.”

“Please,” he says, in such a childlike, desperate way that I expect his next words to be “pretty please.”

“I just can’t pick up and go to Wisconsin to try a murder case. It’s really out of the question.”

“Can’t you at least look into it before you make your decision?”

“It’s too late for that; I’ve already made my decision. And I’m sorry, but looking into the case wouldn’t change anything.”

“I can pay whatever your fee is.”

I nod. “Good. Then you can afford any lawyer you want… except me.” I can see the disappointment in his face, so I soften it a little. “I can do this for you: I can make some phone calls and help you find a first-class lawyer closer to the trial venue.”

He’s not satisfied by this or anything else I say, and I soon give up trying. I have no desire whatsoever to go to Wisconsin and represent someone who is probably a brutal murderer. At this point I haven’t even factored in the close proximity I would have to Laurie, but were I to, it would no doubt be a negative rather than a positive. I’m not going to get on with my life by spending an upcoming chunk of it in her hometown.

As Davidson is leaving, Kevin Randall is coming in, and they mumble a quick hello to each other. Kevin has been my associate for almost two years now, after his disenchantment with the justice system prompted him to take a three-year hiatus from practicing law. During that time he opened the Law-dromat, an establishment that offers free legal advice to customers while their clothes are washing and drying. Kevin still spends much of his spare time away from the office at the Law-dromat, and since we have no clients, that spare time is in no short supply.

It is quite unusual for Kevin to be in on Saturdays; in recent months it’s been unusual for him to come in Monday through Friday. The odds against our both being here today are off the charts.

“Andy, what are you doing here?” he asks.

“I came in to research something on the computer.”

He is instantly alert. “We’ve got a case?”

I shake my head. “No, nothing as drastic as that.”

His reaction is one of relief. “That’s good.”

“Why is that good?” I ask. “And what are you doing here on Saturday?”

He can’t conceal a small grin. “Carol and I are getting married.”

“Today?” Kevin and Carol met on one of those computer-matching services about three months ago. She’s a personal trainer at a fitness center in Glen Rock; every time I see her I’m afraid she’s going to demand I do twenty push-ups. I know that things are going well between her and Kevin, but I didn’t know they were going well enough that marriage was under consideration.

He laughs. “No… but I hope soon. I haven’t actually asked her yet; I’m just getting things in order before I do.”

“What kind of things?”

“Like the honeymoon, for one.”

“Where are you going?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out now; I came in to do some research on the computer as well.”

Kevin proceeds to tell me the places that he’s thought about but has been forced to reject, due mainly to the fact that he is the absolute biggest hypochondriac on the planet. Tropical resorts are no good because of his sun allergy… big cities have too much smog and aggravate his asthma… places with spicy cuisine are likely to inflame his heartburn… and on and on.

“Maybe you can get a time-share on a plastic bubble,” I offer, but it doesn’t so much as raise a chuckle. Apparently, Carol isn’t totally enamored of Kevin’s hypochondria; my guess is that Kevin neglected to mention it on the computer-matching questionnaire.

In fact, Kevin might be annoyed at my joke, because he quickly turns the conversation in an unwelcome direction. “Did you see Laurie on television yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“That’s quite an arrest for her to make. I mean, to get national attention like that…”

“That guy you just saw walking out of here is the father of the accused.”

Kevin is shocked to hear this, and I recount to him my conversation with Laurie, as well as Davidson’s attempt to hire me to represent his son.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Because of Laurie?”

The question is jolting to me, mainly because I should have asked it of myself. “No,” I say too quickly. “I do not want to spend the winter in Wisconsin. My life is here.”

“Which life would that be?” he asks. Kevin is one of the long list of people who have been counseling me to start dating.

I ignore the dig, and he lets the subject drop. I head home, leaving him alone to do his honeymoon planning on WebMD. When I get there, I place a couple of calls to lawyers I know and trust in Chicago, asking for recommendations in the Findlay area, though it’s a good distance away. I get a couple of names, and I will give them to Davidson when I call him tomorrow.

I take Tara to the park and pick up a pizza on the way home. My normal style is to open the pizza in the kitchen and eat the whole thing while standing against the counter. Since I’ve resolved to start my post-Laurie life fresh, this time I sit at the table, using a paper towel for a napkin and eating the pizza off a plate. I know it’s more civilized, but pizza just doesn’t taste as good off a plate.

I get into bed and turn on a Seinfeld rerun. I watch the whole show, but I don’t have to. I’ve seen them so many times that just hearing one sentence is sufficient to trigger the entire thirty minutes in my memory bank.

When the show ends, my thoughts go back to Wisconsin, much as I might resist. I try to analyze major decisions logically, absent emotion. One of my techniques is to break a situation down to its various key aspects and then remove those aspects one at a time, seeing how that impacts on the decision I am making.

This time I try to imagine what I would have done if the murders had taken place in some state besides Wisconsin, with Laurie not involved. In this new scenario another person whose opinion I respect calls and tells me about the murder and their view that the accused is innocent. The father then comes to me with an impassioned plea to represent his son, or at least to look into his case.

There is no escaping the obvious truth that in such a situation I would at least look into the particulars of the case. At first glance a young man who might be innocent yet faces a potentially life-destroying murder trial makes my legal adrenaline start to flow. Yet this time I rejected the offer out of hand.