Kill All the Lawyers

Thirty-One

Laughter was coming from the ground-floor office. Bobby's laugh. Childlike and innocent, a bird's song on a summer breeze. Steve threw the door open. Kreeger was behind his desk, Bobby sitting cross-legged on a leather chair.

"Hey, Uncle Steve. We started without you."

"Come in, Solomon." Kreeger's smile seemed sincere, as sincere as a wolf smiling at a lamb.

"What the hell's going on?"

"Your nephew is regaling me with his wizardry powers. Shall we try another one, Robert?"

"Go for it, Doc."

"How about my name? 'William Kreeger.' "

"Easy, 'cause it's got so many vowels, and I can make four words." The kid thought a second, then boomed: "WIRE ME RAGE KILL."

"Utterly delightful." Kreeger turned to Steve. "Robert was just telling me about the lovely Maria and the unfortunate incident that led to his coming here."

"She's a fox," Bobby said.

"Indeed, she is." Kreeger picked a wallet-size photo from his desk. "Lovely, isn't she, Solomon?"

"Where'd you get that?" It was a shot of Maria Munoz-Goldberg preening for the camera. Shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that stopped north of her navel. Her back was arched in a way that showed off her small butt. Except for the clothing, she could have been Amanda, posing for Kreeger seven years earlier.

"I gave it to Dr. Bill," Bobby said. "He's giving me advice on bagging Maria."

"Great. I'll come visit you in Youth Hall."

"Nothing bad or anything. The doc says to just be myself. Don't try to be cool or imitate the guys on the football team, because it won't work. We all have to be ourselves, because if we fake it, smart people see right through it, anyway."

"That's good advice," Steve admitted, leveling his gaze at Kreeger. "Sooner or later, the phonies get caught. And then all their lies, all their deeds come back to haunt them."

"How true," Kreeger said. "Now, Robert, what were we talking about when your uncle walked in?"

"You asked if I thought Maria was a little prostitot."

"What!" Steve was halfway out of his chair. "What kind of question is that for a twelve-year-old?"

"Oh, come now, Steve," Kreeger crooned. "You've seen those nubile little cock teasers around the Grove, haven't you?"

"Hey. I don't talk that way in front of Bobby."

"Obviously, you haven't read my essay on verbal honesty. Now, Robert, does Maria have any piercings?"

"A shiny thing in her navel," Bobby answered.

"And I take it she wears clothing that reveals her bare abdomen?"

"Sure.

"As I thought." Kreeger beamed. "A little prostitot."

"That's ridiculous," Steve said.

"We'll see. Robert, have you ever seen Maria's breasts?"

"Not unless you count looking through the window in the dark."

"Well, if you don't try something, she'll think you're gay."

"That's nuts!" Steve thundered. "Bobby, don't listen to him."

"I'm not gay," Bobby said.

Kreeger smiled. "I know that, Robert. But does Maria?"

"Hope so."

"Sounds to me like she really wants you to do her."

Steve leapt to his feet. "That's it. We're out of here."

"In that case, Robert will be detained at Youth Hall, pending mandatory testing."

Steve sank back into his chair.

"Maria never said anything about wanting to do it," Bobby said.

"She won't," Kreeger said confidently. "See, Robert, man is the hunter. For millions of years, man killed the game and took the female of his choice. The female always yields to the strong man. When she says no, she means maybe. When she says maybe, she means yes."

"Wrong!" Steve turned to Bobby. "No means no. Maybe means no. Yes still means no because you're too young."

"Bobby, why don't you let your uncle and me talk for a bit?" Kreeger suggested. "There's a bowl of fruit in the kitchen. And a box of chocolate chip cookies on the counter."

"Awesome. I'll bounce."

Bobby unspooled his legs and headed out.

After the office door closed, Steve got to his feet and leaned over Kreeger's desk. "You can tell the judge anything you want, but I'm not going to let you poison Bobby's mind."

"Relax, Solomon. I'm just testing the boy. I'm worried how Robert might react if Maria rejects him."

"What are you talking about?"

"The way Robert handles stress." Kreeger scribbled a note on a pad. "I'm quite concerned that the boy could become violent with her."

"What the hell are you writing down there?"

"Do you remember that girl who went missing down in the Redlands a few months ago? A boy in the neighborhood had a developmental problem similar to Robert's. The girl's body was never found, and the police lacked evidence, but I feel quite certain the boy was involved."

"Bobby's not violent. In case you forgot, you're the homicidal one, Kreeger."

"So you keep saying." Kreeger rested his hand on the desk, on Maria's photo. "Do you think Robert would mind if I kept this?"

"Yeah." Steve walked toward the window. "And so would I."

Kreeger slipped on a pair of reading glasses and studied the photo. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Way too long. Finally, he said: "Juicy one, isn't she?"

"Sick, Kreeger. Sick and twisted."

Kreeger closed his eyes and murmured: " 'Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta.' "

Quoting Nabokov's famous opening lines, admitting his own predilection for pubescent girls. Almost as if he were the patient and Steve the psychiatrist. Did he want help?

"You need to talk about it, is that it?" Steve said, coming back to the desk. "All these years, you've carried this around. Maybe you needed to talk about it when I defended you. Maybe I missed the signs."

Kreeger chanted, as if praying: "Lo-lee-ta. A-man-da. Ma-ri-a." Then he laughed, the cackling laugh of a rooster. "You think Robert's popped Maria's cherry yet?"

Steve didn't even try to hide his disgust. "You don't want help. You just want to wallow in the filth."

"Or have you beat him to it, Solomon? Bird-dogging your nephew's little hoochie?"

"They should send your sick ass to Raiford. You killed Nancy Lamm so you could be with her daughter."

"You know better than that." Kreeger's smile was as sharp as a knife blade. "Or don't you believe a naked woman? Amanda killed her mother, and I took the fall for her. Just as you would have done."

"What does that mean?"

"Let's say that young Robert got rough with Maria and the poor girl died."

"What sick fantasies are you working on now?"

"Just a hypothetical question, Solomon. If Robert killed Maria, wouldn't you do anything to keep him out of prison? Wouldn't you even take the rap for him?"

"That's not what happened with Nancy Lamm. That's just the story you sold a thirteen-year-old girl to keep her in your bed. What drugs did you have her on when you convinced her she killed her mother?"

"Now that I think about it," Kreeger mused, "there is one big difference between the two of us. I admit who I am, and you pretend to be someone completely different than who you are."

Back in the car, Bobby knew he was in for a goofy lecture. Uncle Steve seemed petrified that any day Bobby would be knocking boots with Maria and she'd get pregnant, which was weird, because so far he had kissed her exactly three times, including once when he missed and ended up with her earlobe in his mouth.

"You know I'd never steer you wrong?" Steve said, before they'd driven a block.

" 'Course I do."

"So you'll listen to me and not that freak Kreeger?"

"Yep."

"You remember what I told you about girls and sex?"

"Have I ever forgotten anything, Uncle Steve?"

"So say it."

"C'mon, it's so dorky."

"Say it, kiddo."

No way around it, Bobby thought, firing out the words. "It shows maturity to keep your purity."

"Attaboy."

"Did you, Uncle Steve? Keep your purity?"

"None of your business."

"That's what I thought."

The "purity" line was so unlike his uncle, Bobby figured he got it from one of those books piled up in the living room.

Raising the Adolescent Boy. Problems with Puberty. Teenagers: An Owner's Manual.

As if I'm a puppy.

Uncle Steve always seemed scared something bad would happen to him.

As if I'm breakable.

Probably because of Mom and the dog shed and a bunch of stuff he didn't even remember.

"Be home before dark."

"Don't put that can of beans in the microwave."

"If your mother calls, I want to know about it."

Sometimes, Bobby wanted to shout: "I'm not a baby, Uncle Steve."

Just now, Dr. Bill treated him like a man. Talking about booty like that. Not trying to game him with "purity" and "maturity."

Of course, Uncle Steve hated the guy. Which was weird, because Uncle Steve fessed up that he was the one who cheated back in the murder trial. Driving over here today, he said the doc was dangerous. But he said the same thing about Mom, and Bobby didn't see that at all. Uncle Steve was just so mixed up about all of this. So Bobby decided to keep some secrets. He wouldn't tell Uncle Steve all the things Dr. Bill said. Especially the last thing, right before Uncle Steve came into the room.

"Be a man, Robert. Take what you want. Maria will love it. Trust me. I know."

SOLOMON'S LAWS

11. I won't lie to a lawyer's face or stab him in the back, but if I have the chance, I'll look him in the eye and kick him in the cojones.