William Bernhardt - Cruel Justice

Unfortunately, Ben’s diatribe woke the baby. Joey’s tiny eyelids opened, and he began to sob.

Christina emerged from the back room and took the baby from him. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“He was sound asleep a moment ago.”

“Right. Till you started in with the air-conditioner man.” Christina waved him toward a chair. “Sit down and collect yourself.”

“I do not need to collect myself!”

“Right.”

Ben allowed himself to be dragged to a chair. Christina got the formula out of the diaper bag, poured it, and plopped a bottle in Joey’s mouth. The caterwauling subsided.

“Do you need a massage?” Christina asked.

“Is this one of those deals where you draw concentric circles around my temples and mutter the secrets of the cosmos into my ear? No, that’s not what I need.”

“True. What you need is a major sedative, but all I can offer is the massage.” Ignoring him, she began massaging his scalp with her free hand. “What are you doing with Joey? You’re due in the courtroom in less than an hour.”

“Mother left.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know. When I got up, she was gone.”

“I can’t believe she would leave you with the baby when you’re in the middle of a trial—” Christina stopped, then her eyes narrowed. “Ben, did you do something crazy?”

“I most certainly did not.”

“She just decided to pack her bags and say au revoir, with no provocation.”

“Well, I didn’t say—”

“Ben, how could you?”

“How could I what?”

“How could you be mean to your mother? I mean, she’s your mother !”

“I didn’t do anything that—”

“I bet you did. You yelled at her, didn’t you, and said something awful?”

“Well …”

“I knew it. Did she tell you she was leaving?”

“Well, yes, but I assumed she was taking the baby with her.”

Christina stopped massaging. “Ben, when are you going to figure it out?”

“Figure what out?”

“This is your blind spot. Deep down, I know you’re a sweetheart. But when it comes to your family, you go off the deep end.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“And the worst of it is, I never got to go clothes shopping with her!”

On this point, Ben joined in her grieving. “Look, Christina, I hate to lay this on you, but you’re going to have to look after Joey while I’m in court.”

“No way!”

“I’m sorry, but what else can I do?”

“Let me see. Day care. Mother’s Day Out. A Skinner box. There are many possibilities.”

“Be serious. I don’t have time to arrange for child care. You said you and he were getting along—”

“Ben, you need to stop relying on other people to do all the hard stuff and start acting like a responsible parent.”

“But I’m not a responsible parent—”

“Exactly my point.”

“I’m not any kind of parent. This is just a temporary situation.”

“Yeah, right.” Christina repositioned the bottle in Joey’s mouth, then passed him back to Ben. “Fine. I’ll baby-sit.” She rummaged through the diaper bag. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Again. During a major trial. I’m a trained professional. I have a certificate from TJC!”

“Why don’t you take him back to my apartment? He seems comfortable there. And … um … I just had a new air-conditioning unit installed. And if Mother happens to come back, you can give her the kid and head for the courtroom.”

“I suppose—”

“Pardon me.”

Both Ben and Christina turned. A middle-aged man in a herringbone jacket was poking his head through the front door. “Are you Ben Kincaid?”

“Yes. Can I help you?”

The man stammered awkwardly. “Well … I was told I could help you.”

“Help me—how?’

“I’m a doctor. Oh, how stupid of me.” He patted his jacket and searched through his pockets frenetically, removing tissues, eyeglasses, and a pocket watch. “Here’s my card. Dr. Emil Allyn.”

“And how can you …”

“I guess I haven’t made myself clear. I’m a psychiatrist.”

Ben’s brow protruded. “Christina, if this is your idea of a joke …”

“No, no, no,” Allyn insisted. “When I say help, I mean … well, I’m a specialist in traumatic memory suppression.”

Ben stepped forward and clasped the man’s shoulder. “Jones came through! You’re my expert witness!”

Allyn looked faintly embarrassed. “I guess so. If you wish me to be.”

“I do! Believe me I do!”

“Well, uh, fine then. By the way …” He pointed. “You’re getting formula on my suit.”

64

AS BEN PUSHED HIS way forward he could feel the heat radiating from all points in the courtroom. The place was packed. Not only was every seat in the gallery filled, but to make matters worse, there were two rows of standing-room observers on three sides. It was like trying a case in a sardine can.

Everyone Ben had noticed in the gallery on previous days was there again today. Ernest Hayes was back, of course, with several of his children. He kept glancing back at two black youths standing in the rear. They weren’t wearing their matching jackets, but Ben was almost certain they were Demons.

The coterie from the country club was all there, including Harold and Rachel Rutherford. Today, they were sitting together. Though the physical space between them had closed, Ben had a feeling the emotional space between them was as great as ever.

To Ben’s surprise, he saw Mike enter the courtroom, with Abie clinging tightly to his pant leg.

As they walked down the nave of the courtroom, Harold Rutherford stopped them. “Abie!” he said to his son. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

Abie did not answer.

“I don’t think Abie should be here,” Rutherford told Mike.

“Just a brief stop,” Mike answered. “I need to speak with one of the attorneys. Then we’ll be leaving.”

“They say the trial will probably end today,” Rutherford said. “Abie, would you like to do something afterward?”

Abie took an extended interest in the parquet floor.

“Maybe we could go to Bell’s, if you wanted.” He glanced at his wife. “Or we could just go to the mall and … hang out. Whatever …”

Abie squeezed Mike’s hand and tried to pull him away.

“I’ll bring him back to the house this afternoon,” Mike said. “Maybe you can work something out then.”

Rutherford nodded politely, then let them pass.

Mike struggled through the crowd and made his way to the defense table, boy in tow.

“What a cute pair you two make,” Ben said, punching his pal on the shoulder.

“We do not,” Mike said, bristling. “I’ve never been cute in my entire life.”

“You are now. You really seem like a natural for this sort of work. Kind of like Mary Poppins.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Maybe you should give up law enforcement and open a day-care center.”

Mike laid a finger firmly on Ben’s chest. “That’s enough.”

Ben laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to suggest that you had a sensitive side.” He leaned into Mike’s ear and whispered, “Why do you still have the kid? I thought Blackwell called the protection off.”

“He did. But the Rutherfords don’t know that. I’m not letting the kid roam unprotected till I’m absolutely positive it’s safe.”

“I see.” Ben leaned back and spoke normally. “What brings you to court?”

Mike glanced down at Abie. He was fascinated by the courtroom and the crowd and didn’t appear to be paying any attention to Ben and Mike. “I need a favor. Will you help me?”

“If I can. What do you need?”