Trial & Error by Paul Levine Read Free Book Online Page A

him.
    Victoria waved at Bobby, who now sat, cross-legged, talking to an egret that had landed in the outfield. Steve told Kreindler they’d discuss baseball ethics later and trotted toward the woman he loved, intercepting her at the first-base bag. She tossed both arms around his neck, and they kissed. Not a
howdy, how are you
kiss. Deeper. A
wanna jump your bones
kiss.
    “Wow,” he said.
    “I have great news.”
    “Hey, me, too, Vic.”
    “Got a new case. A big one.”
    “Likewise.”
    “That shooting at Cetacean Park,” she said. “I’m going to prosecute.”
    “What?” He couldn’t have heard her correctly.
    She couldn’t have said “prosecute.”
    They were defense lawyers. They represented the persecuted, the downtrodden, the occasionally innocent.
    Prosecute? She might as well have said, “I’m going to become a prostitute.”
    “Pincher’s conflicted out,” Victoria babbled on. “I’ve been appointed.” She reached into her ridiculously expensive handbag and flipped out a badge, embossed with a gold star.
Special Assistant State Attorney.
“The guy you caught. Gerald Nash. He’s being charged with—”
    “Felony murder. I know. I’m defending him.”
    That stopped her. But only for a second. She blinked and said, “No way, Steve.”
    “He retained me this morning. Without a retainer. But still, he hired me.”
    Victoria chewed at her lower lip. “So what are we going to do?”
    “Easy. You’ve got to withdraw.”
    “Why me?”
    “Because it’s my case, Vic. I got there first.”
    At home plate, Ira Kreindler was hitting fungoes to the outfielders, or trying to, but mostly he dribbled soft grounders down the foul line.
    “You’re a witness,” she said. “You can’t represent the defendant.”
    “Two cops saw me grab the guy and arrested him on the spot. My testimony’s not needed.”
    “Did you hear Nash make any statements against interest?”
    “If I did, I sure as hell wouldn’t tell you.”
    In the outfield, a pop fly headed toward Bobby, who staggered under it, waving his arms like a drunk chasing a butterfly. The ball plopped into and out of his glove, bounced off the top of his head, and dropped to the ground. Bobby rubbed his head and spun around 360 degrees, looking for the ball.
    “Nice catch, spaz!” Rich Shactman yelled from center field. He was the best player on the team, a powerfully built slugger, a kid who looked like he’d been shaving since kindergarten. Steve itched to tell the punk to lay off Bobby, but part of growing up is learning how to handle bullies, so he kept quiet.
    Turning back to Victoria, Steve said, “I’m gonna have to pull rank here.”
    “Rank?”
    “I’m the senior partner.”
    “We’re
equal
partners.”
    “But I’ve got seniority. Rank and grade. If this were the army, I’d be the general.”
    “If this were the army, you’d be court-martialed.”
    “So, tell me this: When you opened that fancy bag of yours just now, was that a gun I saw?”
    “What about it?”
    “Are you going all
Thelma and Louise
on me?”
    “Every prosecutor gets a gun.”
    “You’re talking like this isn’t a one-case deal. Like you’re planning on some permanent changes.”
    “Would you just relax, Steve? I’ll be back as soon as the case is over. Think of the publicity I’ll get. This gives us a chance to upgrade our clientele.”
    “Nothing wrong with the cases I bring in.”
    “Really? What about Needlemeyer versus Needlemeyer? The kid suing his parents for being ugly.”
    “Not just being ugly. Passing on the genes.”
    “That’s what I mean. Junk cases, when I can win a murder trial.”
    “You mean lose a murder trial, because if I’m defending, it’s gonna be talking cockatoos all over again.”
    “You planning to take a dump on my sleeve?”
    “Anyone who steps into court against me risks utter and total humiliation. You know that.”
    “Now you’re
threatening
me?”
    “Just telling it like it is,