Hate Crime by William Bernhardt Read Free Book Online Page A

purse with both hands. She seemed anxious about something. “I’m Ellen Christensen.”
    “That’s it,” Christina said. “I’ve seen you in the courtroom. I was watching on the television when . . . well . . .”
    “Yes. Of course.”
    “That must have been terrifying.”
    “It was,” she said, but Christina thought she seemed remarkably well composed.
    “How is your son?”
    “He’s recovering. It’s a trauma, seeing your best friend shot just inches away from you. Not that the press has shown him the least bit of sympathy.”
    “No,” Christina said. “I suppose not.”
    “I just thank God my Johnny wasn’t killed.” She was a thin woman, but her assured carriage gave her a bearing that exceeded her physical girth. She was actually much more attractive than she had appeared on television; her well-defined features had been blurred by the camera. “He’s the one that psychopath from the gay rights group wanted, you know. Kevin Mahoney just got in the way.”
    Jones cleared his throat. “What brings you all the way from Chicago, ma’am? Is there some way we can help you?”
    “I’m sure you’ve guessed why I’m here. Kevin Mahoney is stable, but he can’t possibly try a case in his current condition, and the court insists on plowing ahead with this travesty. All the newscasters and politicians are bearing down, of course. Demanding swift justice. Meaning a hanging, the sooner the better.”
    Christina tried to steer her back on track. “So you’re here . . .”
    “To ask Ben Kincaid to be Kevin’s replacement.”
    She stared at the woman, blank-faced. “You want Ben to take over your son’s defense?”
    “Yes, I do.” She seemed confused. “Is there a problem? I’ve heard he’s one of the top defense attorneys.” She paused. “Which doesn’t surpise me.”
    “No, no—there’s no problem. You heard right.”
    “I know he doesn’t normally work in Chicago—”
    “That’s not a problem. We can ally with a local lawyer. Get admitted to the Illinois bar pro hac vice .”
    “I only hope he can fit it into his schedule.”
    “I can guarantee you he’ll fit it into his schedule,” Christina replied.
    “That’s wonderful. Ms. McCall, my son is innocent of murder. I know that’s not what you read in the papers. But it’s true. I’m a bit pressed for cash at the moment—I took out a second mortgage just to pay Kevin—but if I can sell some of my jewelry, I might be able to put together a retainer. Do you really think Ben will take the case?”
    Ben, Christina noted. Not Mr. Kincaid. Ben.
    Jones appeared so excited he could hardly contain himself. “Well, let’s consider the facts. The defendant is painfully unpopular and has been crucified in the press. The evidence is hopelessly stacked against him. The press is demanding a conviction. The case is impossible and unwinnable. And you—pardon me for saying so—don’t have any money. Will Ben take your case?” He extended his hand. “I’d say it’s a sure thing.”
    “If there’s a problem . . .”
    “Not at all,” Jones added hastily. “Even if this case doesn’t make Ben rich, it’s enormously high profile. This is exactly what he needs. The preliminary work has already been done, so the expenses can’t be too great. I’m all for it.”
    “Wonderful. Then if I could just speak to him.”
    “It’s really not necessary,” Christina interjected. “I’m his partner, and I know his schedule. He’ll jump at this.”
    “That is splendid.” She drew her purse in closer, holding it with both hands. “But I still think it might be best if I spoke to him . . .”
    “I’ll see if I can get him. But I’m telling you, it’s a lead-pipe—”
    The click of the office door down the hallway made them all pivot. Ben emerged from his office, necktie loose around his neck, and headed in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.
    “Ben!”
    He turned, took one look—then stopped dead in his tracks.
    “Ben,