Death Penalty Read Free

through his thinning blond hair. “I gotta confess I didn’t just happen by. I heard you were up here so I came looking for you.”
    â€œYou’ve found me. What’s up?”
    â€œI’d talk better if I had a drink.”
    I remember the need I saw in his eyes. My eyes used to look that way, too, the need bordering on pain. In those days I was never very long between drinks.
    â€œOkay, where do you want to go?”
    He brightened. “Mulrooney’s, of course.”
    Mulrooney’s, one of the oldest bars in the city, was the traditional watering hole for circuit court lawyers, judges, and clerks. I thought I probably held some kind of record there for number of consecutive times drunk.
    â€œAnyplace but Mulrooney’s,” I said.
    He looked disappointed. “Well, there’s a nice bar over at the Westin Hotel. And it’s close.”
    â€œLet’s go.”
    During the trip over I noticed even the short walk tended to wind him and his puffy face began to glisten with sweat. Mickey filled me in on his life as we walked. His second wife was talking divorce, and his kids were in perpetual trouble of various kinds. He was in a downtown Detroit office with three other personal injury lawyers. Business was up and down, mostly down.
    I told him of my little one-man office located above aninsurance agency and looking out on the St. Clair River. He wasn’t impressed. And I told him about my daughter, although I didn’t tell him she was a recovering alcoholic just like her dear old dad. I did tell him, brag would be the better word, that she was an honor student at the University of Pennsylvania and thinking about going on to law school. He remembered my third wife, who had divorced me years ago. He had some unkind things to say about her. I didn’t object. They were all true.
    By the time we got to the bar we were all caught up on personal history.
    Mickey ordered a double scotch, straight up, and gulped it down, then ordered another. Sometimes it bothers me to watch people drink. Sometimes it doesn’t. This time I wasn’t bothered. I sipped my Coke and waited for him to tell me what had prompted him to search me out.
    â€œAre you going to handle the Doctor Death appeal yourself?” he asked. “I mean, prepare and brief it yourself and then argue the case?”
    I nodded.
    He worked a bit slower on the second drink. “As I remember, you got some friends over there on the court of appeals, right?”
    â€œI do, but that won’t count for a hell of a lot. I know a couple of the judges there. So do you.”
    â€œNot as well as you do,” he said quickly.
    â€œWhat’s your point, Mickey?”
    â€œYou know what I do, right?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œI’m a personal injury lawyer,” he said, staring at the ice cubes in his glass. “I used to be pretty good, or at least I thought I was. Made money, too. It’s tougher now, Charley. No-fault this, no-fault that. It’s hard to make an honest buck anymore. At least it is for someone like me who handles mostly small stuff. Quantity, not quality,that’s what pays my rent, you know?”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œI finally got my teeth into something good, real good. Big bucks, you know? But it’s on appeal. I’ve handled appeals before but not many, and none that were really big. I don’t think I want to do this one all on my own.”
    â€œThe town is full of appellate experts, Mickey. Hire someone to help you.”
    He shrugged and signaled for another drink. “I know those guys. Paperwork men, nothing more. I need someone who has a wire in over there.”
    â€œI don’t have a wire in, if that’s what you mean. No one does, as far as I know.”
    He laughed, but it had a mocking sound. “You been away from the action around here, Charley. Things have changed.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œThere’s a whisper