Redemption by Howard Fast

witness.”
    â€œOK.”
    â€œWe have to rehearse it.”
    â€œOK. I’m totally available,” I said. “But you have to keep me off the witness list, and then convince the judge.”
    â€œI’ll take care of that. Now, is there any other way to get in and out of this building without being seen?”
    â€œYou’re still harping on Liz.”
    â€œNo. I don’t believe she did it. Rudge does.”
    I sighed and shook my head. “No other way.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” Sarah asked me.
    â€œNever mind. Out—yes. The super lives in a basement apartment. The door there has one of those bar things; push the bar down and you can open the door. No key or keyhole. Deliveries from outside must press the buzzer.”
    â€œThe back elevator runs all night? Could a perp press the down button and get out before the door closes?”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    â€œI came up the back way tonight,” Sarah said, “buzzed the buzzer and the door was opened by the super. I anticipated the back way might matter, and I thought I’d try it.”
    â€œSo why ask me?”
    â€œYou live here. I don’t, and I never came up the back way before. This is 1996. Could you fold a piece of paper and keep the back door from locking?”
    â€œI suppose.”
    â€œDon’t get nettled by me, Ike. It’s my way. We have to work together. I was afraid of this when you talked me into taking this case. Now I’m not a student or a cook—I am a damn good criminal lawyer. I’ve defended pushers and pimps and killers and hookers, and, once, a woman who killed her two children.”
    Smiling wanly, I said, “I’m sorry, Sarah,” feeling like a small boy being verbally whipped by his mother. “Did you get her off?”
    â€œI did. She and the kids hadn’t eaten for four days—too proud or crazy to beg, and too ignorant and too new to Harlem to know what else to do. The paralegal’s name is Jane Johnson—we call her J. J. Now, it’s going to be difficult if not impossible to work out of here. Can you make some arrangements for downtown?”
    â€œI already have. Dave Friedman has a suite in the Woolworth Building, with a small room he can lend us. They use it as an extra storage place for the library, and it has tables and chairs. He does contract work exclusively, and he’s happy as a clam to be able to watch a criminal case at close quarters. He was one of my students, and he’s a decent young man. He assured me that we can use his copying machine and fax, but we’ll have to rent a computer and printer. I’ll take care of that. Can your J. J. take dictation?”
    â€œShe spent a year as a court reporter.”
    â€œGood. And about my attitude—you’re the first counsel. You litigate. That’s settled,” I assured her. “But my world has changed, Sarah. I was living my death. Now, I’m living my life. This woman has given me life and hope, and she wants to have a child with me.”
    â€œIke, she’s—what—forty-seven, forty-eight? Besides, I thought she was barren.”
    â€œShe is willing to adopt.”
    â€œGo slowly, please,” Sarah begged me. “I’ve watched the two of you together. She’s good and loving and innocent, but we have a mountain to climb. I wish this was uptown. I know one cop in the first precinct, and in Manhattan South I’m an uppity nigger. That doesn’t bother me too much, but it would help if I weren’t a stranger there. With Rudge, it’s another matter; he hates my guts, and that helps. I want the jury to see him as someone who can’t wait for a hanging. He has a good case, and he convinced the grand jury to indict without much trouble; but the grand jury’s one thing and the trial is something else.”
    â€œYou don’t hold out much hope for my meeting with the District