Chapter 2; An Officer and a Dangerous Man
Musical theme; Take This Day by Lindsey Kelly
Will hustled to his apartment and got in his court clothes. He went to the court, and got ready for argument in State v. Craile. He came into the courtroom and put the little case on counsel table. “Morning, Nancy.”
“Good morning, Will.” She stepped over to his table. “The girls are all with Chrissie. We think if she wants to go out with you, the thug should stay out of it.”
“I would like to, but I’m not going to risk her career on it.”
“You’re going to light in to Dorsey, aren’t you?”
“You’ll find out after you argue your case.”
“He’s a lousy little punk. Judge Reynolds hates him, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.”
“You would make a hell of a detective, Will. I wish you were.”
The courtroom filled quickly, and the Sheriff’s deputies brought Craile in. He sat by Will.
Nancy delivered a very polite argument. She looked good in her business suit. She spoke well, and summed up the case, which was basically that Officer Dorsey had found the shoplifted pack of cigarettes on Craile’s person. She spoke well, and chose her words impeccably.
She came around Will to get to her table.
“Nicely done, counsel.”
“Now we see the fur fly.” She flicked her eyes at the secretaries from the DA’s office, court people and such.
Will walked into the well of the court with the confidence a lion has as he prowls the Serengeti. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is a simple case of the wrongful use of power. You have heard a supposed confession, supposedly delivered to this male descendant of a female canine.”
There were some laughs.
“He has come to you and claimed he had a confession. Sure. Mr. Craile said he stole the cigarettes because Officer Dorsey told him he would be cited and released if he did so, and taken to jail if he did not. This loathsome behavior is permitted by the courts, which gives you a pretty good idea why we need honorable people like you to decide cases, and not people in the system. Judge Reynolds is a good judge, and I would never question her virtue, but she has to rule by the law as the appellate courts have made it, not according to her conscience.
“A coerced confession is not admissible, for the obvious reasons you all understand. But now they have sneaked in and found another way to coerce a confession. They get a guy charged with some small offense, and they can make him ‘confess’ so he does not spend the weekend in jail waiting to bail out. If in your minds, that is not coercion, you don’t have any idea what it is like to be put in jail. Body cavity searches. Being confined with really bad people in a place where the civilized world does not prevail. And this whole case depends on the word of that man,” Will pointed at him like prosecutors and cops do. “Who is a varmint and a liar, who extorts confessions.”
Dorsey stood up. “I’ll get you.”
“Your honor, I ask the court to have the bailiff disarm this witness.”
“So ordered.”
The bailiff took Dorsey’s gun.
Now that you don’t have a gun, Mr. Dorsey, do you want to get me? Why don’t you try it right now, right here, in front of all these good people?”
“Mr. Ames!”
“Excuse me, your honor, but there is a time for everything.”
“This is not the time or place, Mr. Ames.”
“Nor is it a man, anyway. The state may offer rebuttal.”
Nancy stood halfway. “No argument, your honor.”
“There are no motions, I should instruct the jury?”
They both agreed.
Judge Reynolds instructed the jury, and then called counsel into chambers.
“Will, what am I going to do with you?”
“I’m sorry, your honor.”
“No, you’re not. You think you were right. You were right. But.”
Nancy smiled. “He was magnificent. I don’t even care if his guy gets away with stealing a pack of cigarettes.”
“He was magnificent. He was Clint Eastwood in Pale Rider. But in my court?”
“He threatened me.”
“A dog barking at a lion. If he had gone for you, how long would it have taken you to kill him? Twenty seconds? Will, I know all about PTSD. My late husband was a jarhead. Three tours in ‘Nam. An infantry officer, an ass in the grass vet. You have to keep it inside in court.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
The bailiff knocked on the door. “We have a verdict, your honor.”
They returned to the court, and the foreman handed the verdict up.
Nancy leaned over. ‘Loser buys lunch at Shane’s?”
“Deal.”
Judge Reynolds opened the form. “We, the jury in State v. Craile, find the defendant not guilty.”
* * *
“We’ll have the steak and lobster. Our steaks medium rare, with the onion rings. Salad, Bleu cheese and lots of it.”
“This is pretty expensive.”
“Eat it all, Will.”
“I haven’t won in a long time.”
“I would have liked to see what happened if what almost happened did happen.”
“No you would not have.”
“How are you so sure?”
“Let it rest.”
“You were a soldier.”
“I was a Marine. A scout/sniper. I was a captain. An infantry leader. I don’t tell war stories. So can we let it rest?”
“OK.”
“Save all the junk. I have a cat.”
“Do I get to meet him?”
“If she deigns to meet you, you may.”
The salad came, and Will asked for more dressing. They ate some, and some bread.
“I heard Nat got you a house in Westfield.”
“I’d never have had my own place but for him. It’s the one he litigated over.”
“You don’t think the toxics are anything?”
“His expert says no. He told me to air it out and not worry. There is a wood stove. He says that is good because it takes some of the old air out when it runs.”
“The codfish is looking into this all. This with Dorsey.”
“What does this have to do with the Chief of Detectives? I don’t even know him.”
“He says if this is settled permanently, you will receive a Walking Liberty half dollar.”
“This lobster is some great stuff.”
“I wish I could afford it more often.”
He dipped a piece in the butter and garlic sauce. “First time I ever had it.”
“This law thing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“I should have been an engineer.”
“You were a mathematician.”
“Yeah. I taught it for a while, but academic politics…”
“You don’t understand people, really. You’re really nice, but you don’t receive messages very well. When I bet you, I knew I would lose.”
“Why?”
“Dorsey threatened you without good reason. You threw your cheroot on the ground and told him to go for his gun. Like Judge Reynolds said, it was Clint Eastwood in Pale Rider. It was a done deal right there. If it was me, I couldn’t have given him the OK Corral thing. I would have had to be the offended lady. It would have worked for me, too. Dorsey blew the case with that remark.”
“Why, then, did you bet me?”
“So I could take you to dinner.”
“Why all that subtlety when you know and have known how to find me? Why the sudden interest, anyway? I’m not rich, handsome or famous.”
“Oh, no. You belong to Chrissie. I just wanted to take you to dinner.”
“I belong to Chrissie? No. She’s just a friend from law school who is in trouble with Doug for having coffee with me.”
“Oh, that is so day before yesterday. He fires her, and he gets sued for sexual harassment by half the women in the office. We would burn him to the ground. His best hope would be to beat that, and never be elected to anything ever again. You want to ask Chrissie out, do it.”
They pushed the scraps around on their plates. The waitress asked if they wanted dessert, but the menu was not very interesting. They got a bag for the leftovers, and the waitress found some oyster shells and shrimp tails for the cat, and added them.
They took off, stopping at a supermarket to get a cheesecake, and then on to pick up Will’s car. They went to the Westfield house.
“It doesn’t look like a crack house.”
“It never was. He cooked meth.”
“You’ve cleaned it up some, though.”
“Marie Estofan did most of the work. She is staying here.”
“She is your girlfriend?”
“No. Just renting a room. She has had a hard life. I’m keeping her out of the rain and the cold, and she is cleaning up my house and yard.”
“I was out of line.”
“No.”
The door didn’t open. He knocked, and Marie opened it. She handed him a key. Then she turned and walked away. They came in.
“Marie?”
“Yes.”
“Come back and greet our guest.”
She came back. “I know who she is. A cop.”
“She is an assistant district attorney. Not a cop. Someone who, if you got in trouble with the cops, could get you released OR with her pinkie finger. And she would, too, because she knows you now.”
“Hi, Ms. Lane.”
“It’s nice to see you out and about. Having a place to stay and all. I got a bunch of bread and muffins and stuff from the place I just paid too much for dinner.”
She took out the bag. She put the stuff on the kitchen table. “Will likes these blueberry things.
There was a scratching at the door. Marie opened it and let the cat in. “Hi, Poly.” She went and sat down.
“You’re calling the cat Polly.”
“Her name is Polychromatic. I’ve known her for years.”
Will got out the lobster scraps and such for Poly. She ate them with deliberate speed.
“I knew the guy who used to live here. The one the cops murdered. Little Willie. Willie never had a gun. They shot him down in cold blood, Will.”
Nancy bristled. “If you can prove that, I’ll put them away.”
“Yeah. With a bunch of lies from the god damned cops. Sure you will.”
Nancy stood up. “I should be going.”
Will spoke quietly. “One of you is a guest in my home, the other is a roommate. Both of you are here with my consent. I expect both of you to respect the other’s right to be here. To be reasonably civil. You may argue, disagree, whatever. Nowhere in the world is the First Amendment more alive than here and now. If you wish to argue philosophy, I will probably like it. Nobody gets run out of this house by incivility.”
Nancy sat back down.
Marie looked at him. It might have been an appraising look, or something else.
In fiction, people can tell all sorts of things from a single look. In reality, you don’t know. Will spoke again. “Nancy, this is Marie. She rents a room from me. The cat is Poly. We are gathered here today to tell jokes, talk philosophy, and maybe someone will ask the house mathematician to integrate a complex function, or solve a differential equation, or something like that.”
The ladies giggled.
He went to the refrigerator. He came back with 3 Deschutes brewery porters.
“I offered to kill a cop in court this morning, but that didn’t work out. Would you ladies have a beer with me? I would like to make an offer that would not be refused.”
Nancy stalled out. “Would you have…”
“Don’t spoil the mood, Nancy. Of course I would have. I’m a combat infantry leader. Just kidding. I would have mussed his hair.”
Marie put an album on the laptop. “This is the Police. I like them. Of course, they are not real police.”
Nancy giggled. Marie threw some junk in the trash. “You’re going to get the wood stove fixed?”
“No. Paul tossed it in the scrap heap. He’s making one out of some scrap he had around. He’s going to put a piece of perforated metal in it, and make a door under that to take ashes out.”
“This will be expensive.”
“No, my money is no good.”
“Paul Anderson, Nancy. Attempted murder. They decided he was not eligiable for indigent counsel.”
“And you kept the case. And got a not guilty. Will flying high.”
“A guy in Dallas finished the story. Lots of murder victims turn out to be people the world can do just fine without.”
“We were going to be polite and nice.”
“What’s your favorite flower?”
“Pansy.”
“Marie?”
“Zinna.”
“Mine is Aquilegia longisima. The long spurred columbine. My second is the moth orchid. Who else has a second?”
Marie offered daffodils.
Will spoke up. “Oh, we need to get some. Marie is so practical. We can put in daffodils, and mother nature will take care of them. You take a shovel, put the bulb in, and in 10 years, there is a big clump that needs dividing. We will mow, of course. You waste the weeds in January, and the daffs come up in February.”
“Can we do trees?”
“Sure.”
“How about liquid amber?”
“If I had a lot of space, I would want them. Great fall color. This place, maybe a few columnar junipers on the north side for winter windbreak. How about some flowering cherries or crabapple?”
“I like the Hopa Crabapples.”
“So do I. We’ll buy one. you can plant it in the front yard.”
“You should plant a couple of European plane trees along the south side.”
“Summer shade. Yes. The leaves are messy, but I like messy trees.”
“You actually like messy trees?”
“Yes. Nature in her abundance. Things growing, fruiting, stuff all over.”
“Fruit trees.”
“Peaches. Don’t y’all think? A Tropiberta and a Santa Rosa plum?”
“Too bad it isn’t the tropics.”
“Yeah. I would have the giant avocado and papayas.”
Marie broke in. “They take the box tomorrow. We’ve done the yard, but if you want to get rid of anything in the house, now is the time.”
“You might want this chair, even. You might have a friend over.”
Nancy could see the only friend Marie wanted in her bedroom was right there.
* * *
Will took Marie with him on Saturday to the thrift shops. He bought her some dresses and such that were so inexpensive it made you wonder. They found a thick Cashmere sweater priced at $2. It was a designer label. Probably $200 new. It fit her perfectly. Not for the first time, he thought how easy it would be to make her look good for the camera. He thought of Marcie in New Orleans. She had nothing much on Marie for looks, they were both stunners. But Marcie could put on a dress and do 36 poses in 50 seconds, change the film, please, while she changes dresses. Will had once shot a catalog at an airport, in 50 minutes between flights, with Marcie changing in the restroom. She had the modesty of a cat, and would have changed right in the concourse. He had shot 24 rolls of 36 frame 35 mm at her, shaking her tail around the concourse. When the catalog came out, it was a few stock photos and Marcie wearing this, and Marcie wearing that.
He missed photography. Not so much the sex that came along with it; models often have the sexuality of rabbits, but the intense professional energy you felt doing something like a 50 minute shoot with Marcie at the airport. She could put her hands on her hips, and the sweater was the best you had ever seen. She would turn around and look over her shoulder, and those jeans sure looked good. She would buff her shoe on the back of her leg, and well, you had to have those shoes.
He came to St. Vincent de Paul, and went into conference with Teresa, the manager. He got Marie lined out for some community service. He chatted with Teresa, who was very interested in his new house. She took down the address. “Will, you got $10?”
He handed it over. “What is this for?”
“A home entertainment center. I don’t have room for it, so from the truck to you, and may God bless you, Will.”
A few hours later, some guys from Vinnie’s came, and tossed a bunch of stuff in the living room. A TV setup, with a tangled mass of cables, and a DVD player, and a VCR. Boxes of movies on DVD and VCR. Two rickety book cases made of particle board. He inquired about a hide a bed in the truck, and the guys took it into the dining room as well. He gave them $10 for that.
Will got the cordless screwdriver and came in with some sheetrock screws to attach the rickety stuff to the wall, where it would not fall over. Little metal clips from the junk box saw to that.
Marie untangled the cords, and hooked up the equipment. She cleaned the screen of the TV, and started it all up, testing everything.
When Will had all the furniture secured, he went out to the shop, and put the screwdriver’s battery on the charger. He thought of Marie kneeling in front of the entertainment center. He knew he could have it any time he wanted, but he felt it was wrong. Not that this girl who had done who knows what for who knows whom would have a complaint, but something about being right with people. He couldn’t even make it out, but he knew he had to do it. He went back into the second bedroom.
Marie paused the DVD. “Will, she did so good by you. There are about 200 movies, and they are good stuff.”
“Let it play”
She took it off pause. A fistful of dollars.
“That’s a great movie.”
“Sit here and watch it with me.”
“You watch the movie. Tell me how it comes out.”
He went out to the yard, and looked at the stars. Someone down the street was having a stupid argument at high volume, so he came back in. He went to sleep.