The Judgment Read Free

nonsense.
    “We caught him with a gun that had been used in amurder. It wasn’t his gun, and he hadn’t done the killing, but we took the bastard down anyway. I took him down. I was the homicide detective in charge, as you recall. I told a few small white lies on the stand, as we both know. Even you couldn’t shake me, which is the real reason why you don’t like me. I beat you. But from my point of view, I took that prick off the streets for life and saved a few lives in the process. I didn’t play by your neat little rules, but justice got done anyway.”
    I could feel anger rising and I knew my face was reddening.
    He looked past me at my view of the river. “I don’t need you to like me, Sloan. But I do need a good lawyer. An honest one.”
    “I don’t want the case.”
    “You don’t even know what it is. Don’t your rules call for some measure of fairness?”
    “Yes, unlike yours. Mine are called professional ethics.”
    “You still off the stuff?” he asked.
    “Booze, you mean?”
    He nodded.
    My problem had often been headlined in the newspapers, and not so long ago. It was all a matter of public record, though I resented the question. But I answered him, to show, I think, that it didn’t bother me.
    “I’m what is termed a recovering alcoholic. What that means, as a practical manner, is that I don’t drink today. Sobriety is a day-to-day thing. So far, I’ve been successful for quite some time.”
    He nodded slowly. “You’re something of an enigma to me, Sloan. You were once one of Detroit’s courtroom big shooters, then the booze got you and you got disbarred. You seem to have licked your problem but you’re still tucked away up here. Why?”
    “I wasn’t disbarred. They suspended me from practice for a year. To lawyers, there’s a big difference between disbarment and suspension. Disbarment marks you for life. I escaped that.”
    His chuckle was devoid of humor. “Tennis rules, like I said.”
    “If that’s how you look at it. In any event, after the year’s suspension, I came up here to live a quiet life and to stay out of trouble.”
    “You’ve had some big cases since, then,” he said. “And you won them.”
    “I’m good at what I do. I’m a trial lawyer, and experienced. That’s all I have to offer as my stock-in-trade. And, when I want to, I pick my cases.”
    He smiled, exhibiting perfect white teeth. “Years ago they whispered you were crooked, that you weren’t above pulling a few dishonest tricks to win. You know, a little bribe here, a little bribe there.”
    That was the media. It made a better story. And, frankly, at that time, it was good for business. “Everybody wants a lawyer who can put the fix in. I didn’t then, and I don’t now.”
    “I know that.” Those eyes of his seemed to almost glitter. “I’d know if you were crooked, believe me. You’re honest. And that’s what I need, an honest lawyer.”
    “There are a lot of them around. I told you, I don’t want your case.”
    “But you haven’t heard what it is yet. At least give me that courtesy.”
    “You’d only be wasting your time”—I paused—“and money,” I added, to remind him that this was business and I didn’t have to sit there and listen to him for free.
    He nodded. “It’s my time.” He smiled. “And my money.”
    “If that’s what you want to do, go on.”
    He shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable in the old chair.
    “The mayor appointed me as deputy chief in an off moment just to make sure the department wasn’t run into the ground or sold to France.”
    “I know the situation.”
    He paused. “Am I protected here, the lawyer-client thing?”
    I nodded. “For this visit only, you are my client. I will charge you for my time. What you say here is privileged and can go no further.”
    He blinked, then continued. “I knew what I was getting into when I took thé deputy chief job. The department has been my life. I watched it go from a spit-and-polish