Let Me Call You Sweetheart

41

“Well, we’ve got our jury impanelled and it’s a good one,” Bob Kinellen told his client with a heartiness he did not feel.

Jimmy Weeks looked at him sourly. “Bobby, with a few exceptions, I think that jury stinks.”

“Trust me.”

Anthony Bartlett backed up his son-in-law. “Bob’s right, Jimmy. Trust him.” Then Bartlett ’s eyes strayed to the opposite end of the defense table where Barney Haskell was sitting, his expression morose, his hands supporting his head. He saw that Bob was looking at Haskell too, and he knew what Bob was thinking.

Haskell’s a diabetic. He won’t want to risk years in prison. He’s got dates and facts and figures that we’ll have a hell of a time contradicting… He knew all about Suzanne.

The opening arguments would begin the next morning. When he left the courthouse, Jimmy Weeks went directly to his car. As the chauffeur held the door open, he slid into the backseat without his usual grunted good-bye.

Kinellen and Bartlett watched the car pull away. “I’m going back to the office,” Kinellen told his father-in-law. “I’ve got work to do.”

Bartlett nodded. “I would say so.” There was an impersonal tone to his voice. “See you in the morning, Bob.”

Sure you will, Kinellen thought as he walked to the parking garage. You’re distancing yourself from me so that if my hands get dirty, you’re not part of it.

He knew that Bartlett had millions salted away. Even if Weeks was convicted and the law firm went under, he would be all right. Maybe he would get to spend more time in Palm Beach with his wife, Alice Senior.

I’m taking all the risks, Bob Kinellen thought as he handed his ticket to the cashier. I’m the one who risks going down. There had to be a reason Jimmy insisted on leaving the Wagner woman on the jury. What was it?