The Heavens May Fall by Allen Eskens

occurred, then all you’re left with is proof that the witness lied—nothing more. There is no evidence upon which a jury can legally find my client guilty.”
    The girlfriend was the State’s last witness. After her testimony, Ben rested his case and Boady moved for a judgment of acquittal. The judge took the matter under advisement, and while Ben and Boady waited for the judge to return and issue the acquittal, which they both knew was inevitable, the two men struck up a conversation.
    They talked about some recent cases handed down by the Supreme Court, and Ben, like Boady, disagreed with restrictions the Court had been placing on Fourth Amendment rights. Ben talked more like a defense attorney than a prosecutor. It was in that conversation that Boady floated the idea that Ben should come to work for him.
    Ben asked for a week to think about it, but called Boady the next day to ask if they could have dinner together to talk about the offer, a dinner that would include their wives. They met at the University Club in St. Paul, a beautiful, private club that overlooked the southern edge of St. Paul. Boady had been a member since moving to Summit Avenue, just a few blocks west of the club.
    It had been his plan to impress Ben and his wife with the fine meal and extravagant surroundings. He had no idea that Jennavieve Pruitt, formerly Jennavieve Adler, was a member of the Minneapolis Club, an equally swank private club in Minneapolis. Not only that, but Jennavieve’s mother and father had both served on the Board of Governors for the Minneapolis Club. She practically grew up in the place.
    But Jennavieve didn’t come across as someone who gave a lick about clubs. Boady got the impression that they could have just as well been meeting at a fast-food joint for all she cared. Jennavieve was beautiful and gracious and completely levelheaded, and Boady took to her immediately. When Boady asked what she thought of the club, a question born of a momentary and uncharacteristic conceit on his part, Jennavieve never mentioned her illustrious upbringing. It wasn’t until months later, after Ben had made the leap from prosecution to defense that Boady learned of her family position.
    Boady saw Diana’s car pull up the driveway just as he finished slicing the chicken. He poured a touch of oil into the pan and turned on the heat.
    Diana entered through the back porch as she normally did. Boady met her at the door to the kitchen and gave her a kiss. But as she went to pull away from the kiss, he held her gentle brown hands in his pale white hands. He pulled her back in and embraced her, squeezing her tightly against his chest.
    “Have you caught any news today?” he asked.
    A look of concern eased into the edges of Diana’s smile. “What happened?”
    “Jennavieve Pruitt is dead. She was murdered last night.”
    “Oh my goodness. Murdered? Are you sure?”
    “Her body was found this morning. She was stabbed in the throat.”
    “That’s horrible. Are Ben and Emma . . . ?”
    “They’re okay. Ben came by after he identified her body.”
    “Ben . . . came here? Why would he come here?”
    Boady went to the stove, where his oil was hot and ready for the chicken. He laid the chicken strips in and stepped back as the oil crackled and spit. He spoke now without turning to face Diana. “Ben wants my help.”
    Diana crossed to the kitchen counter next to the stove. “Why does he want your help?”
    Boady still didn’t look at Diana. “He thinks they may try to point the finger at him. It’s standard procedure to suspect the husband. He just wants to have the benefit of my advice.”
    Diana put her hand on Boady’s arm and turned him to face her. “Is he a suspect? Do they think he killed Jennavieve?”
    “They haven’t named him as a suspect. He’s understandably concerned. He wants me to be his lawyer, hold his hand as he goes through this.” Boady could feel her studying his face, searching for signs of the struggle she