A Time for Mercy

36

Eight days after the beating, Jake spent a long afternoon held captive in the chair of an oral surgeon who hammered and drilled and poured what felt like concrete to fix his teeth. He was groggy and in pain, with temporary caps, and would return in three weeks for the permanent crowns. The following day, Dr. Pendergrast removed the stitches and admired his handiwork. The scars would be tiny and would add “character” to Jake’s face. His nose had shrunk to near normal size, but the puffiness around his eyes had turned a hideous shade of dark yellow. Because his nurse had tortured him with constant cold packs on everything swollen, most of his body parts had returned to normal size. The urologist, prodding gently, was impressed with the shrinkage.

He planned the return to his office so that he could park in a back alley and enter through a rear door. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted shuffling along a sidewalk and hiding under a cap and behind oversized sunglasses. He made it safely inside, gave Portia a quick hug, said hello to Bev, the chain-smoker, in her little nicotine den behind the kitchen, and walked gingerly up the stairs to his office. By the time he sat down he was winded. Portia brought him a cup of fresh coffee, gave him a long list of lawyers, judges, and clients he needed to call, and left him alone.

It was June 28, five weeks before the capital murder trial of Drew Allen Gamble. Normally, by now he would have had a discussion with the district attorney about the possibility of a plea bargain, a deal that would negate a trial and all the preparations one would entail. But that conversation was not going to happen. Lowell Dyer could offer nothing but a full guilty plea, and no defense lawyer would allow his client to risk pleading to a death sentence. If Drew did so, his sentencing would be left to the discretion of Judge Omar Noose, who could send him to the gas chamber, or to prison for life without parole, or to a lesser term. Jake had yet to discuss this with Noose and wasn’t sure he would do so. The judge did not want the added pressure of having to hand down the sentence. Leave that for the twelve jurors, good folks who did not worry about getting reelected. Add politics to the mix, and Jake doubted Noose would show much sympathy for a cop killer. Leniency would be out of the question, regardless of the facts.

And what would Jake suggest? Thirty years? Forty years? No sixteen-year-old kid could think in those terms. Jake doubted Drew and Josie would agree to a guilty plea. How would he advise his client? Roll the dice and take your chances with the jury? It took only one determined holdout to hang it up. Could he find such a person? A hung jury meant another trial, and another. A depressing scenario.

He frowned at the list and picked up the phone.

After Portia left for the day, Lucien entered, without knocking, and fell into a leather chair opposite Jake. Surprisingly, he was drinking only coffee, though it was almost five. Always sarcastic and acerbic, he was in a good mood and almost sympathetic. They had spoken twice on the phone during the convalescence. After some light chatter he said, “Look, Jake, I’ve been here every day for the past week, and it’s obvious the phone is not ringing as it should be. I’m worried about your practice.”

Jake shrugged and tried to smile. “You’re not the only one. Portia has opened four new files in the month of June. This place is drying up.”

“I’m afraid the town’s turned against you.”

“That, and, as you know, it takes a certain amount of hustling to stay in business. I haven’t been doing much of that.”

“Jake, you’ve never asked me for money.”

“Never thought about it.”

“Let me tell you a secret. My grandfather founded First National Bank in 1880 and built it into the biggest bank in the county. He liked banking, didn’t care for the law. When my father died in 1965, I inherited most of the stock. I hated the bank and the men who ran it, and so I sold out as soon as I could. Sold it to Commerce over in Tupelo. I’m no businessman but I did a smart thing, one that still surprises me. I didn’t take cash because I didn’t need it. The law office was hitting on all cylinders and I was busy, right here at this desk. Typical bank, Commerce got itself sold and merged and all that, and I hung onto the stock. It’s now called Third Federal and I’m the second largest stockholder. The dividends roll in every quarter and they keep me afloat. I have no debts and don’t spend much. I heard you saying something about refinancing your mortgage to get some cash. That still in the works?”

“Not really. The banks here said no. I haven’t ventured outside the county.”

“How much?”

“I have an appraisal, one of those friendly ones from Bob Skinner, at three hundred thousand.”

“How much do you owe?”

“Two twenty.”

“That’s a lot for Clanton.”

“It sure is. I paid too much for the house but then we really wanted it. I could put it on the market now but I doubt it would sell. I don’t suppose Carla would be too happy about that.”

“No, she wouldn’t. Don’t sell, Jake. I’ll call the folks at Third Federal and get it refinanced.”

“Just like that?”

“It’s easy. Hell, I’m the second largest stockholder, Jake. They’ll do the favor for me.”

“I don’t know what to say, Lucien.”

“Say nothing. But that’s an even bigger loan, Jake. Can you handle it?”

“Probably not, but I’m out of options.”

“You’re not going out of business, Jake. You’re the son I never had, and at times I feel as though I live vicariously through you. This office will not close.”

A wave of emotion swept over Jake and he couldn’t speak. A long moment passed as both men looked away. Finally, Lucien said, “Let’s go sit on the porch and have a drink. We need to talk.”

With a scratchy voice, Jake said, “Okay, but I’ll stick with coffee.”

Lucien left and Jake shuffled to the door and stepped onto the veranda with a grand view of the square and the courthouse. Lucien returned with a whiskey on the rocks and sat next to him. They watched the late afternoon traffic and the same old men whittling and spitting tobacco juice under an ancient oak next to the gazebo.

Jake said, “You called it a ‘secret.’ Why?”

“How many times have I told you not to do your banking in this town? Too many people see what you do and know your balances. You settle a nice case, rake in a nice fee, and someone will see a big deposit at the bank. People talk, especially around here. You have a few bad months and your accounts get low, and too many people know it. I’ve advised you to bank out of town.”

“I really had no choice. I get loans from Security because I know the banker.”

“I’m not going to argue. But one day, when you’re back on your feet, get the hell away from these banks.”

Jake was not in the mood to argue either. Lucien was troubled and wanted to discuss something important. They watched the traffic for a moment, then Lucien said, “Sallie left me, Jake. She’s gone.”

Jake was surprised but then he wasn’t. “I’m sorry, Lucien.”

“It was sort of a mutual breakup. She’s thirty years old and I’ve encouraged her to find another man, a husband, and start a family. Wasn’t much of a life living with me, you know? She moved in when she was eighteen years old, started off as a housekeeper, and one thing led to another. I grew very fond of her, as you know.”

“I’m sorry, Lucien. I like Sallie, figured she would always be around.”

“I bought her a car, wrote her a nice check, and waved goodbye. Damned place is awfully quiet these days. But I’ll probably find someone else.”

“Sure you will. Where did she go?”

“She wouldn’t say, but I was suspicious. I think she’s already found someone else and I’m trying to convince myself that’s a good thing. She needs a family, a real husband, kids. I couldn’t stand the thought of her taking care of me in my decline. Driving me to the doctor, doling out pills, catheters, bedpans.”

“Come on, Lucien, you’re not ready for the end. You have some good years left.”

“For what? I loved the law and I miss the glory days, but I’m too old and too set in my ways to make a comeback. Can you imagine an old geezer like me trying to pass the bar exam? I’d flunk it and that would kill me.”

“You could at least try,” Jake said but without conviction. The last thing he needed was Lucien with a new law degree causing trouble around the office.

Lucien raised his glass and said, “Too much of this, Jake, and the brain is not what it used to be. Two years ago I hit the books and was determined to pass the exam, but the memory is not working. I couldn’t remember statutes from one week to the next. You know how taxing it is.”

“Yes I do,” Jake said, recalling, with horror, the pressures of the bar exam. His best friend from law school flunked it twice and moved to Florida to sell condos. A great career move.

“My life has no purpose, Jake. All I do is putter around here and spend most of my time on the front porch reading and drinking.”

In the twelve years he had known Lucien, Jake had never heard such self-pity. Indeed, Lucien never complained about his own problems. He might rage for hours about injustice and the state bar association and his neighbors and the shortcomings of lawyers and judges, and he would on occasion suffer a bout of nostalgia and wish he could sue people again, but he never let his guard down and revealed his feelings. Jake had always believed Lucien’s inheritance had grounded him well; that he considered himself luckier than most.

“You’re always welcome around the office, Lucien. You’re a great sounding board and I value your insights.” Which was only partially true. Two years earlier when Lucien was making noise about getting reinstated, Jake had been unhappy with that prospect. With time, though, as the studying became too rigorous, Lucien stopped talking about the bar exam and fell into a routine of stopping by for a few hours on most days.

“You don’t need me, Jake. You have a long career ahead of you.”

“Portia has come to respect you, Lucien.” After a rough start, the two had settled into an uneasy truce, but in the past six months had actually enjoyed working together. Already, and without the benefit of law school, she was an excellent researcher, and Lucien was teaching her how to write like a lawyer. He was delighted by her dream of becoming the first black female lawyer in town and he wanted her in his old office.

“Respect might be too strong a word. Plus, she’s leaving in two months.”

“She’ll be back.”

He rattled his ice and took a drink. “You know what I miss the most, Jake? The courtroom. I loved the courtroom, with a jury in the box and a witness on the stand and a good lawyer on the other side and, hopefully, a seasoned judge refereeing a fair fight. I loved the drama of the courtroom. People discuss things in open court they wouldn’t talk about anywhere else. They have to. They don’t always want to, but they have to because they are witnesses. I loved the pressure of swaying a jury, of convincing good skeptical people that you’re on the right side of the law and they should follow you. You know who they’ll follow, Jake?”

At that moment, Jake couldn’t count the number of times he’d heard this little lecture. He nodded and listened as if for the first time.

“Jurors will not follow a fancy Dan in a designer suit. They will not follow a silver-tongued orator. They will not follow a smart boy with all the rules memorized at his fingertips. No sir. They will follow the lawyer who tells them the truth.”

Word for word, same as always.

“So, what’s the truth with Drew Gamble?” Jake asked.

“Same as Carl Lee Hailey. Some people need killing.”

“That’s not what I told the jury.”

“No, not in those words. But you convinced them that Hailey did exactly what they would do if given the chance. It was brilliant.”

“I’m not feeling so brilliant these days. I have no choice but to put a dead man on trial, a guy who can’t defend himself. It will be an ugly trial, Lucien, but I see no way around it.”

“There is no way around it. I want to be in that courtroom when that girl takes the stand. Almost eight months pregnant and Kofer is the father. Talk about drama, Jake. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I expect Dyer will howl for a mistrial.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“What will Noose do?”

“He won’t be happy, but it’s rare for the State to get a mistrial. I doubt if he’ll do it. She’s not your client and if Dyer calls her first then the mistake will be his, not yours.”

Jake took a sip of cold coffee and watched the traffic. “Carla wants to adopt the baby, Lucien.”

He rattled his ice and thought about it. “And you want this too?”

“I don’t know. She’s convinced it’s the right thing to do, but she worries that it will appear to be, what’s the right word, opportunistic?”

“Somebody will get the kid, right?”

“Yes. Kiera and Josie are going the adoption route.”

“And you’re worried about how this will look.”

“I am.”

“That’s your problem, Jake. You worry too much about this town and all the gossipmongers. To hell with them. Where are they now? Where are all these wonderful people when you need them? All your friends at church. All your buddies in your little civic clubs. All those important people at the Coffee Shop who once thought you were the golden boy but don’t care for you now. They’re all fickle and uninformed and none of them realize what it takes to be a real lawyer, Jake. You’ve been here for twelve years and you’re broke because you worry about what these people might say. None of them matter.”

“So what matters?”

“Being fearless, unafraid to take unpopular cases, fighting like hell for the little people who have no one to protect them. When you get the reputation as a lawyer who’ll take on anybody and anything — the government, the corporations, the power structure — then you’ll be in demand. You have to reach a level of confidence, Jake, where you walk into a courtroom thoroughly unintimidated by any judge, any prosecutor, any big-firm defense lawyer, and completely oblivious to what people might say about you.”

Another mini-lecture he’d heard a hundred times.

“I don’t turn away too many clients, Lucien.”

“Oh really. You didn’t want the Gamble case, tried your best to get rid of it. I remember you whining when Noose dragged you into it. Everybody else in town ran and hid and you were pissed because you got stuck with it. This is exactly the kind of case I’m talking about, Jake. This is where a real lawyer steps up and says to hell with what people are whispering and walks into the courtroom proud to be defending a client no one else wanted. And there are cases like this all over the state.”

“Well, I can’t afford to volunteer for many of them.” Once again, Jake was struck by the reality that Lucien had the means to be a radical lawyer. No one else owned half of a bank.

Lucien drained his glass and said, “I need to go. It’s Wednesday and Sallie always roasted a hen on Wednesdays. I’ll miss that. I guess I’ll miss a lot of things.”

“I’m sorry, Lucien.”

Lucien stood and stretched his legs. “I’ll call the guy at Third Federal. Get your paperwork together.”

“Thanks, Lucien. You’ll never know what this means.”

“It means a lot more debt, Jake, but you’ll bounce back.”

“I will. I have no choice.”