to offer one to me. You in trouble again?”
“Not really,” I said. “At least, not yet. I just have a question for you.”
“If you’re in trouble, you oughta tell your lawyer.”
“I know that.”
I heard him yawn. “Let’s have it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Supposing, just hypothetically, a person wanted to look up an old case, and all he had was the name of the defendant. How would he go about it?”
“It’s in the computers. It could be dug out.”
“How?”
“If you’re prosecuting a case, you just go to the nearest terminal in one of the D.A.’s offices and punch it up.”
“If you’re not?”
“If you’re defending a case, it’s a little more complicated.”
“And if you’re neither prosecuting nor defending a case?”
He hesitated. “This isn’t really hypothetical, is it?”
“No. Not really.”
“You need to check on a name?”
“Yes, I do.”
“A defendant in a criminal case?”
“Possibly.”
“Or possibly something else?”
“Possibly a defendant or plaintiff in a civil case. Possibly a witness. Possibly a prosecutor or a defense attorney. I don’t know.”
“Jesus, man.”
“I know.” I thought for a minute. “I could probably associate this name with a particular judge.”
“That wouldn’t help.”
I sighed. “You can’t help me, then?”
“I didn’t say that. You think this name might have been a defendant in a criminal case?”
“Might’ve been. It’s one possibility. It’s a place to start.”
“Let me call you back.”
I hung up.
I got some coffee and apologized to Julie for my earlier rudeness and my extended lunch with Mickey. She said she expected as much of me. She had left a neat stack of manila folders on my desk. My afternoon assignment. Without Julie, I would tend to spend my days swiveled around with my back to my desk—both literally and figuratively—staring westward out of my window and dreaming of fishing. Periodically I would telephone Charlie McDevitt or Doc Adams to swap stories and lay plans for trips to places like Alaska and Idaho where large trout swam in clear rivers and great snow-peaked mountains rose in the distance and the air was clean and murder was someone else’s concern. Without Julie, the GONE FISHIN ’sign would hang from my doorknob most of the time.
Without Julie, I would soon be broke. Then I couldn’t afford to go to those places.
Julie keeps me as busy as she dares. She forces me to do all the little things that keep my wealthy clients happy, like phoning them weekly and paying them house calls and occasionally doing real legal work for them, all of which persuades them that the shamefully large retainers they pay me are a good bargain.
So I shuffled through the manila folders she had left for me. But I couldn’t concentrate. The knot in my stomach was too persistent. It reminded me that I had smacked my nose against a brick wall.
How in hell could I find Karen Lavoie?
Julie came into my office half an hour later. She queried me on the contents of the folders. I answered her. She patted my shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and gave me some more stuff to look at. The phone rang a couple of times. Julie made a few calls and then turned them over to me. Around four-thirty she came in with some letters for me to sign. She had composed them herself.
A little after five my phone buzzed. I picked it up and Julie said, “It’s Zerk.”
Julie admired Zerk. Zerk had two secretaries, and kept them both overworked.
I pressed the button that connected me to Zerk. “Hi,” I said.
“I figured this was important,” he said.
“Yeah, it is.”
“You seemed to be in a rush.”
“I guess I am.”
“Listen carefully, bossman. Tomorrow you should take the elevator to the fifteenth floor of the courthouse. Go to the Clerk Magistrate’s office. Be there at one-thirty. Some of the folks will be at lunch. Look for Sarah. She’ll be expecting you.”
“I don’t want to get anybody in
“Not really,” I said. “At least, not yet. I just have a question for you.”
“If you’re in trouble, you oughta tell your lawyer.”
“I know that.”
I heard him yawn. “Let’s have it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Supposing, just hypothetically, a person wanted to look up an old case, and all he had was the name of the defendant. How would he go about it?”
“It’s in the computers. It could be dug out.”
“How?”
“If you’re prosecuting a case, you just go to the nearest terminal in one of the D.A.’s offices and punch it up.”
“If you’re not?”
“If you’re defending a case, it’s a little more complicated.”
“And if you’re neither prosecuting nor defending a case?”
He hesitated. “This isn’t really hypothetical, is it?”
“No. Not really.”
“You need to check on a name?”
“Yes, I do.”
“A defendant in a criminal case?”
“Possibly.”
“Or possibly something else?”
“Possibly a defendant or plaintiff in a civil case. Possibly a witness. Possibly a prosecutor or a defense attorney. I don’t know.”
“Jesus, man.”
“I know.” I thought for a minute. “I could probably associate this name with a particular judge.”
“That wouldn’t help.”
I sighed. “You can’t help me, then?”
“I didn’t say that. You think this name might have been a defendant in a criminal case?”
“Might’ve been. It’s one possibility. It’s a place to start.”
“Let me call you back.”
I hung up.
I got some coffee and apologized to Julie for my earlier rudeness and my extended lunch with Mickey. She said she expected as much of me. She had left a neat stack of manila folders on my desk. My afternoon assignment. Without Julie, I would tend to spend my days swiveled around with my back to my desk—both literally and figuratively—staring westward out of my window and dreaming of fishing. Periodically I would telephone Charlie McDevitt or Doc Adams to swap stories and lay plans for trips to places like Alaska and Idaho where large trout swam in clear rivers and great snow-peaked mountains rose in the distance and the air was clean and murder was someone else’s concern. Without Julie, the GONE FISHIN ’sign would hang from my doorknob most of the time.
Without Julie, I would soon be broke. Then I couldn’t afford to go to those places.
Julie keeps me as busy as she dares. She forces me to do all the little things that keep my wealthy clients happy, like phoning them weekly and paying them house calls and occasionally doing real legal work for them, all of which persuades them that the shamefully large retainers they pay me are a good bargain.
So I shuffled through the manila folders she had left for me. But I couldn’t concentrate. The knot in my stomach was too persistent. It reminded me that I had smacked my nose against a brick wall.
How in hell could I find Karen Lavoie?
Julie came into my office half an hour later. She queried me on the contents of the folders. I answered her. She patted my shoulder, told me I was a good boy, and gave me some more stuff to look at. The phone rang a couple of times. Julie made a few calls and then turned them over to me. Around four-thirty she came in with some letters for me to sign. She had composed them herself.
A little after five my phone buzzed. I picked it up and Julie said, “It’s Zerk.”
Julie admired Zerk. Zerk had two secretaries, and kept them both overworked.
I pressed the button that connected me to Zerk. “Hi,” I said.
“I figured this was important,” he said.
“Yeah, it is.”
“You seemed to be in a rush.”
“I guess I am.”
“Listen carefully, bossman. Tomorrow you should take the elevator to the fifteenth floor of the courthouse. Go to the Clerk Magistrate’s office. Be there at one-thirty. Some of the folks will be at lunch. Look for Sarah. She’ll be expecting you.”
“I don’t want to get anybody in
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