Stone Shadow by Rex Miller Page B

of all the hoopla in the press that Mr. Hackabee could no longer get a fair trial.... Okay, here's the scenario, Noel is the attorney of record, she files a motion for a change of venue, the court says no and denies the motion and she goes, ‘Gotcha’ and laughs quietly ‘cause she knows that she wins either way. She goes to trial. If a jury finds Ukie guilty beyond a reasonable doubt she files for a mistrial for the motion of change of venue being denied. If she wins she wins. It's no gamble."
    “Heads I win, tails Ukie gets another shot and so does Ms. Collier."
    “Exactly. That's just one possible deal of the cards. Let's say—and I don't know the statutes for sure and I don't know the law that well—but let's say a judge gets a wild hair and issues a denial of her motion, and she slaps a supersedeas I think it's called on the court so that it stops the execution of the denial—some kind of goofy writ bullshit—and then blah-blah-blah, and there's a fucking mistrial. Or she loses and appeals endlessly. Or she gets a jury that loves beautiful women. I mean the scenarios are endless."
    “You're saying a lawyer has a shot with the most improbable clients, that the facts of a murder case don't matter?"
    “In a way I think that is precisely what I'm saying. Want some proof? Would you have bet money that the most famous lawyer in the country would have taken the case of a man who murdered the most famous assassin since John Wilkes Booth, and correct me if I'm wrong but didn't he shoot the fellow on TELEVISION? I mean, we are talking about the most flamboyant and publicized defense lawyer living and he JUMPED at the case. And if I remember right he won the sucker. I think he got a reversal and people were going, ‘If you want to prove it rolls uphill call HIM,’ and he was Mr. Magic. That's got to be a heady magnet for these big-star lawyers. Look at the size of the egos involved."
    “Yeah. I know. But Noel Collier didn't seem ... Aw, hell, I dunno. I just didn't read her that way. I could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time. It's just hard to see her in that kind of situation. She's so pulled together from my impression.” He wasn't saying half of what he really felt.
    “I don't know, Jack. You remember that kid that shot the old woman in the store? The boy named—what was it—uh, Ivey-yeah. The Ivey kid. Noel Collier took that and won it. Jones-Seleska couldn't have made five dollars off it. But that's the case that really put her name out front. And, like we were saying, may be these rich lawyers just say to themselves once in a while, ‘It's the right thing to do. We owe the public this one.’”
    “Maybe so."
    The phone rang and Wally Michaels reached over and answered it, “Michaels.... Okay. Right now? ... ‘Kay, I'll tell the man.... No, he's right here.” He covered the mouthpiece. “Ukie Hackabee's hollerin’ for Jack Eichord. Says it's real important. Want to see him now?"
    “Sure,” Eichord said and gestured with a shrug. “Why not? Can't dance."
    Eichord felt like he looked, and he looked like week-old tacos. He remembered his old pard Jimmie Lee telling him how he resembled the ole nasty brown stuff and how he was boozing too hard. How he wasn't getting enough sleep. How he was irritable and apprehensive about nothing and just generally felt and looked awful. Thing is, he hadn't been boozing lately and he still looked like shit and be thought he felt worse. He still wasn't sleeping. He was still irritable and apprehensive about nothing and he felt worse than ever.
    And his cheerleader fantasy wouldn't let go of him. He refused to see it for what it was. One of those no-way-Jose deals that he couldn't face. Noel Collier was his housewife fantasy, his movie-star fantasy, his nun fantasy, his teenybopper fantasy, and his—to use her sophisticated word for it—headfuck all wrapped up in one strong, overachieving, Dallas-dyno-mite knockout of a lady.
    Most really choice women—the