Reversible Errors by Scott Turow Read Free Book Online Page A

didn't. For a moment the pure brutality of the remark seemed to stun them both. A quiver passed through Raven's doughy face, then he straightened and closed one button on his coat.
    "I'm sorry to have bothered you. I made the mistake of thinking we had something in common."
    Intent on collecting herself, Gillian found her cigarette pack in its leather case in her purse and lit up again. But her hand shook as she struck the match. Surrendering to shame was such a danger for her. Once it began, she could never climb out from under the mountainous debris. She watched the flame crawl ahead, rendering the gra y f iber to cinder. Across the table, she could hear the zipper on Raven 's briefcase.
    "I may have to subpoena you for deposition," he said.
    Touche, she thought. And tear her apart, of course, once he got the opportunity. Deservedly, too.
    "Will you accept service by mail?" He asked how to reach her without going through the federal court probation office, and she told him she was living in the basement apartment in Duffy Muldawer's house. Duffy, a former Roman Catholic priest, had been the Chief State Defender in Gillian's courtroom years ago and, as a result, Raven's constant opponent. Yet Arthur did not so much as bother with polite inquiries about Duffy's well-being. Instead, without looking her way, Raven aridly took down Duffy's address in an electronic organizer, one of a million marvels, each smaller than the next, that had become indispensable to Americans in the four and a half years she'd been away. The blue threads of smoke languished between them and a server briefly intervened to ask if either cared for more coffee. Gillian waited for her to go.
    "I had no reason to be rude to you, Arthur."
    "That's all right, Gillian. I know you always thought I was boring."
    She smiled bitterly. But she felt some admiration for Arthur. He'd grown up. He could dish it out now. And he was on the mark. Nonetheless, she tried again.
    "I'm not very happy, Arthur. And I suppose it makes me unhappier to see the people I used to know. It's a painful reminder."
    That was stupid, of course. Who, after all, was happy? Not Arthur Raven, ungainly, uncomely, alone but for his family trouble, which she now remembered was a sister with mental problems. And no one was concerned with Gillian's emotional state anyway. Not that they doubted she was suffering. But they believed she deserved it.
    Without response, Raven rose, stating simply that he would be in touch, and proceeded toward the door. Watching him exit, she caught sight of her reflection in the cheap mirrors, veined in gold, which boxed the posts supporting the restaurant ceiling. She was often startled to see herself, because, generally speaking, she looked so much better than she felt. There was something telling, she realized, abou t t he fact that, like stainless steel, she appeared unharmed by the battering. But she was tall with strong posture, and even time didn't take its toll on good cheekbones. She was losing color by now. Her strawberry- blond hair was a rodent shade, on its way to gray; and, as she'd long found true of fair-skinned persons, she was showing every line, like porcelain. But the fashionable details-a fitted twill suit, a strand of pearls, a hacked-down hairdo spiked with mousse-supported the composed bearing that seemed to radiate from her. It was a look she'd assumed in her teens, as false as the self-portrayal manufactured by most adolescents, but it had never been forsaken, neither the appearance of outward command nor the sense of wanton fraud that went with it.
    Certainly, she'd deceived Arthur Raven. She had answered mis- leadingly, then lashed him, to ensure he didn't linger to learn the truth. Raven had been led astray by rumor, the vicious talk about her that had circulated years ago when her life collapsed. They said she was a lush-but that wasn't so. They said she drank herself silly at lunch and came on the bench half crocked in the afternoon. It