William Bernhardt - Primary Justice

“They can’t do that. They’d have to check for any conflicts of interest before accepting the case, and I’d speak up. If a lawyer expects to be called as a witness, he can’t agree to act as a lawyer in the case. And that goes for his entire firm.”

“And so Raven, Tucker & Tubb would lose one of its most profitable clients, perhaps its most profitable client, perhaps permanently. Any idea how that would affect your standing with the shareholders?”

Ben had to stop a moment at that.

“Look, Ben, give us a few days to finish the physical-evidence analysis. Then, if we’re sure we’re right about Sanguine and the evidence matches up, I’ll drop in on the esteemed president of Sanguine Enterprises.”

Ben nodded his reluctant acceptance of the plan. “So what have you got now?” he asked.

“More forensic evidence,” Mike replied. “The hair and fiber team found several dark coarse male hairs on the inside lining of Adams’s overcoat. They match the ones I told you about before that we found on Adams’s body.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Dark hair. That could be Sanguine.”

“Yeah, it could be, but is it? Adams could’ve picked them up from someone at the bar beforehand, or at his home, or office, or anyplace else for that matter. But the distribution of hairs on the inside of the coat and their proximity to blood splatters makes the fiber boys think they came from the killer. They think it happened while the killer struggled to get the body into the Dumpster.” He paused. “And I think they’re right. That would explain, for instance, why the hairs are all on one side of the body.”

Mike studied a small notepad that he withdrew from his coat pocket. “I sent the hairs and a sample of the blood we think came from the killer away for a special test. A DNA fingerprint.”

Ben looked impressed. “I’ve read about that. How does it work?”

“Well, they analyze nuclear rather than mitochondrial DNA—”

“Ahh,” Ben said. “Thank you for making that distinction clear.”

Mike continued unperturbed. “They use restriction enzymes as scissors, cut the DNA into segments and arrange the segments into patterns that resemble the Uniform Product Code labels you see everywhere now. They’re easier to compare than fingerprints. And, unless our man has an identical twin, no two are alike.”

“Isn’t there some question about whether the results are conclusive?”

“Yeah. But at this point, any evidence is better than none.”

“Brrrr,” Ben said, hunching his shoulders and rubbing his arms as if he’d caught a chill. “Genetic IDs. Sounds like something you’d hear about on the Big Brother telemonitor.”

“Do you want to catch this guy or not? I should get the test results by telephone tomorrow afternoon or the next day. Then I’ll ask Sanguine for an exemplar of his hair and blood. If the hair samples match—”

“We’ll know he’s the killer.”

“We’ll know he saw Adams within the last twenty-four hours before he died,” Mike corrected. “Since he told the police otherwise, that might be enough to bring him in for some pointed questioning. And if it’s Sanguine’s blood under Adams’s fingernails, we’ll have an airtight case.”

Ben hated to admit it, but sometimes the law did move too slowly for ordinary human beings to bear.

“You know what the really funny thing is?” Mike said slowly. “I still don’t know what I did wrong. In my marriage, I mean. I worked hard. I worked night and day. You know I did. I tried to do the right thing. I tried to make her happy. If I could do it all over again, starting today, I don’t have the slightest idea what I should do differently.”

Ben gave Mike a fraternal punch on the shoulder. “Let’s call up Julia,” Ben said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”

The two men looked at one another and then, with some regret, burst into laughter.

30

WASHROOM PROTOCOL WAS A peculiar feature of the law office life-style. The washrooms were perhaps the only communal meeting place for persons from all echelons of the firm. Everyone went there at one time or another, excepting the three named partners, each of whom had his own private washroom that could only be entered with a special key. In the general public men’s rooms, however, the partners and associates alike enacted a complex ritual, from greeting all present by name upon entrance to the vigorous washing of hands on the way out. Associates went to ostentatious lengths to demonstrate that they had no latent uneasiness about urinating in the presence of others, and every one of them, Ben suspected, would have preferred to remain silent and be left in peace in a private stall while they took care of business. The office washroom, however, might be the only place a junior associate ever saw most partners. Ergo, bizarrely enough, it became a place to try to make an impression.

Ben met Greg on his way in.

“Long time no see,” Greg said, pushing the door open. “Boy, have people ever been talking about you.”

Ben was reflexively defensive. “I don’t want to hear about—” Greg silenced him by raising a finger to his lips in the hush position. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his lips, then flicked his fingers, as if to throw away the key. Greg crouched down and checked to see if there were any feet visible beneath the stall doors. Evidently there weren’t.

“Can’t be too careful,” Greg said, turning back toward the urinals. “Partners are everywhere.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing this firm intrigue routine?”

“Hey, I’ve planned to be a lawyer all my life,” Greg said. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. I’m not going to blow it now by being stupid. Loose lips sink ships.”

What a great place to work, Ben thought.

“I understand your first court appearance was an unmitigated disaster,” Greg said. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed to be grinning.

“Glad everyone’s heard about it,” Ben muttered. “Saves me the bother of sending out announcements.”

“Ah, well,” Greg said, “that’s why you’ve made those connections in high places, right?” He flashed his perfect smile. “A wise associate hedges his bets.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Greg. You’re starting to sound like Alvin.”

Greg’s smile became something like a patronizing leer. “You didn’t really think you could keep something like that secret, did you, old boy?” Greg zipped up and walked over to the sinks. “Don’t be so secretive. Your fellow associates were very impressed. I was very impressed. I hadn’t pegged you as the one to make the smooth career moves. You seemed a smidgen too busy being noble to me. But you outflanked your entire class. And in a very masterly fashion, too, I might add. How can Raven fire you now? It can’t happen. It’s perfect.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “I guess I should have realized you were on the fast track after that stint with Mona Raven.”

Ben stared blankly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. That’s your story, and you’re sticking to it. I don’t blame you. Did Mona have something to do with this? I was in Chambers’s office when he found out. Was he ever pissed! He was counting on that Vancouver case reassignment to keep his billables above the freezing point. Wait till he hears this latest news.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder. “Pretty impressive for someone whose only court experience was … what was the phrase, an unmitigated disaster?”

Deep furrows crept across Ben’s forehead. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What has Mrs. Raven to do with the Vancouver case?”