Blind Justice

36

BEN WAITED UNTIL EVERYONE but the security guards had left. He was overdue at the office. He needed to prepare for the next day’s trial, he needed to see how Christina was holding up, and he needed to contact Wolf’s parents. But he was determined to talk to Derek first.

Derek was still puttering around in chambers—making phone calls and attending to administrative matters. Ben decided to give him time to unwind, take care of his business, and have a quick snort from the bottle of Scotch he’d removed from his bottom desk drawer.

Ben stood just outside the doorway and listened while Derek dialed the phone. “Hello, Louise?…Yeah, I’m still here.…I don’t know, I’ll probably be home in an hour or so.…Of course I’m working, I started a trial today, for God’s sake. Where else would I be?…Look, Louise, I don’t give a good goddamn what you suspect. I’ve been in court all day, and you can take it or leave it.…Yeah, well, the hell with you, too.”

Derek slammed the receiver back into its cradle. Ben heard an undercurrent of indistinct muttering. He decided to give Derek a few more moments to cool off.

After he’d clocked a full minute on his watch, Ben stepped inside. Derek’s chambers seemed sparsely decorated, but to be fair, he’d only been in them about eight months. Ben did see Derek’s Harvard law diploma, squarely placed where it couldn’t be missed, just beneath Derek’s pride and joy, a large stuffed bobcat, poised forever in mid-spring.

He knocked on the open door. “Excuse me, Judge.”

He caught Derek in the middle of chewing another tablet. “Kincaid? What the hell are you doing here?”

“If I may have a minute of your time…”

“Is Moltke outside?”

“No, he left. Press conference, probably.”

Derek drew himself erect. “You want to have an ex parte conversation? Without the presence of opposing counsel? Do you know how improper that is?”

Ben stared at a safe point in the middle of Derek’s desk. “This isn’t about the case. Well, it is, but not about the substance of the evidence or legal issues.”

Derek took another swig from the scotch bottle and washed down the remains of the tablet. “Then what is it you want?”

“I want to ask you…to plead with you, really…to stop taking your hatred of me out on my client. In the courtroom. If it were just me on the firing line, I wouldn’t complain. But someone else’s head is in the noose, and it isn’t fair that she get a bad shake just because you’re holding a grudge against me.”

Derek stared back at Ben, his mouth slightly agape. “I cannot believe…Are you actually suggesting I am biased in my deliberations?”

“Let’s not play games. You’ve ruled against me at every important juncture. Even when you occasionally toss me a bone, you make it clear to the jury that you do so grudgingly. Juries are very good at picking up messages from the judge, and yours are going to be translated into a conviction if you don’t ease off.”

“I do not believe my ears. Bad enough that you barge in here demanding an unethical ex parte conversation. But then you use that time to accuse me of judicial impropriety of the worst order.”

“The pattern of your rulings is clear—”

“Did it ever occur to you that my rulings might be against you because you have a lousy case!” Derek shouted. “Correction. A combination of the fact that you have a lousy case and that you are a lousy attorney.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

“That’s the goddamned truth, you miserable wimp.” He reached into his desk and brought out what Ben now could see was a box of Tums. “I’ve had the worst heartburn all week long. I shouldn’t be surprised. In the world of indigestion, you’re a frigging carrier.”

“Derek, listen—”

“No, you listen to me, Kincaid.” He crunched another tablet. “I tried to work with you back at Raven. With God as my witness, I did. But I could see then you’d never cut it as a litigator, and I was right. You just haven’t got the cajones for it. I said you had to learn to work, not whine. And what is this whole conversation but proof of my point?”

“That’s not fair—”

“Just shut up and listen. You were a whiner then, and you’re a whiner now. Okay, you took some knocks in the courtroom today. Tough, it happens. You should be back at the office working, trying to figure out a way to make the next day go better. Instead, you’re in the judge’s chambers, trying to get an edge on the competition by complaining to the judge when they’re not around.”

“That’s not justified—”

“This whole conversation is not justified, Kincaid! You’ve violated every rule of ethics I know.”

“Which one would that be?”

Derek’s teeth clenched tightly together. “They never should have let you pass the bar. I was right about you back at Raven, and I’m still right.”

“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Raven, Tucker & Tubb. A year ago. The Sanguine Enterprises fiasco.”

Derek didn’t say anything.

“You lost a big client so, in your infinite pettiness, you got me fired.”

Derek made a pfui sound.

“Haven’t you hurt me enough already? I lost the job with the big firm. I’ve been scrabbling along on my own, one day at a time, barely getting by, for over a year now. Haven’t you exacted your revenge? Isn’t that enough punishment for one lousy client?”

Derek was silent for a long, dreadful time. He placed his palms against his desk, fingers spread wide. “There’s more to it than that,” he said finally.

“In what way?”

“In the first place, I lost more than a client. I lost a hell of a lot of money.” He patted himself down, searching for cigarettes, but didn’t find any. “That Sanguine business was just the first event in a miserable chain reaction. I imagine you know, even from your brief tenure at Raven, that I was not exactly the most popular shareholder in the firm.” He laughed. “Hell, when you’re good, when you’re the best there is, you’re not going to be popular.”

Ben could think of other possible explanations for his lack of popularity.

“But they couldn’t touch me, because I had a great client base. Until you came blundering along. I’d lost a few clients in recent years, nothing major, but they stung a bit. When Sanguine pulled out and took his business to Conner & Winters—well, it was the beginning of the end. Other clients heard about what happened; they pulled out, too. It’s a bad scenario for a lawyer—more clients going out than coming in. Before long, my client base was so low the controlling shareholders at Raven could justify giving me the heave ho. Bastards.”

“I’m…sorry,” Ben said haltingly. “I never suspected—”

“I wanted to go back to Philadelphia, but of course, Louise said no. Can’t uproot our children and all that crap. What the fuck does she care about my problems? As long as someone pays the Visa bill every month, she’s happy.” He slammed his top desk drawer shut. “I need a cigarette. I don’t suppose you’d lend me one?”

“I don’t smoke.”

“No, of course not. Still campaigning for sainthood.” He inhaled sharply, then continued. “The firm gave me four months to find a position somewhere else. Shit, when you’ve already worked for the best firm in town, where are you supposed to go?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Ben said quietly.

“A judicial position opened up in the Northern District, so, what the hell, I took it.”

Ben could not conceal his amazement. “You mean you’re disappointed about an appointment to the federal judiciary? Most people would kill to be where you are!”

Derek made a snorting noise. “Do you know what I make here?”

Ben shook his head.

“Less than half what I used to pull down at Raven. Less than half!” He leaned across his desk. “And the worst part is, I have to sit around and listen to a bunch of inferior, incompetent pseudo-litigators argue day in, day out, none of them one-tenth as good as I was. But I’ve been taken out of the game, Kincaid. I’ve been put on the sidelines, and in my personal opinion, it’s all because of you, you miserable little turd!” Spittle flew into Ben’s face. “It’s all your fucking fault!”

Ben was dumbfounded. It was worse than he had imagined. Incredibly, devastatingly worse. “I-I still hope you’ll be fair to my client—”

Derek threw a pencil across the room. “Stop whining and get the hell out of my chambers!”

“I think she’s innocent, I really do—”

“I said get out!”

“But—”

“Shall I call my bailiff? Would you enjoy spending the night in jail?”

Ben hated to leave on that note, but he had no choice. He departed, knowing full well he had not accomplished any of his goals. On the contrary, he’d only managed to bring all Derek’s hatred bubbling to the surface. Christina’s case already looked grim, and now he’d made it worse.

And the prospect for tomorrow was no better.