Perfect Justice

2.

“MURDER?” BEN HAD TO pause a moment to recollect himself. “You committed a murder?”

“No, no. Of course not. I’m a lawyer, just like you. Well, not just like you.” Payne fumbled for his wallet. “See? Here’s my bar card.”

Ben scrutinized the plastic card. Sure enough, Payne was a member in good standing of the Arkansas Bar. “Why don’t you handle the case yourself?”

“I don’t know diddly-squat about murder trials. I’m a probate lawyer. I draft wills for folks, take care of their estates—you know, pleasant, easygoing stuff. I was appointed to this case by the court because the defendant can’t afford his own lawyer. And I don’t know word one about criminal law.”

“Ben does,” Christina said, without missing a beat. “Ben’s a murder-trial expert. He’s handled dozens of big cases. He won one of the biggest, most controversial murder trials Tulsa has ever seen!”

Ben rolled his eyes. Good ol’ Christina, his personal PR agent.

“That’s what Sammy Dean was telling me,” Payne said to Christina, as if Ben were a million miles away. “He must be a humdinger.”

“If he weren’t,” Christina said, “I wouldn’t be standing here. I’d be in a cell somewhere waiting for the Big Needle.”

Payne’s eyes glowed with admiration. “I’ve never been around one of you superstar litigators before.”

“Now wait a minute,” Ben said, edging Christina out of the way. “I’m no superstar. I’ve only been out of law school four years. I’ve handled a few criminal matters.” He shot Christina a disapproving look. “Not dozens.”

Payne appeared crestfallen. “Then you haven’t handled murder trials?”

“Well, I have, but—”

Ben was interrupted by the impact of Christina’s elbow in his ribs. “Pardonnez-moi. May I speak with you for a moment, Mr. Kincaid?”

Ben frowned. “Excuse me, Mr. Payne, while I confer with my legal assistant.”

“A lady legal assistant. I reckon you are big-time. Sure, take as long as you need.”

Christina and Ben strolled behind their two tents. “Okay,” Ben said, “what’s the big idea—”

“Listen up.” She pressed her finger against his chest. “You may not care whether you make any money during the current fiscal year, but believe me, your staff does.”

“I hardly think—”

“You are very lucky to have a loyal and dedicated staff—Jones, Loving, and best of all, me—who do not complain about the—how shall I say it?—erratic manner in which you pay us. I know getting a solo practice started is slow, hard work. But the fact remains, you haven’t had a bona fide blue-ribbon case since you left the Apollo Consortium, and that’s been many moons.”

“Nonetheless—”

“Ben, be quiet. This case probably won’t make us rich, but if the court is paying, at least we won’t have to worry about collecting the fee. Plus, this is exactly the kind of exposure you need to attract big-time cases. So march over there and tell Mr. Payne you’ll take the case.”

It was clear to Ben that nothing other than blind obedience would be acceptable. “Yes, ma’am.”

Payne was waiting patiently by his pickup. “After conferring with my staff,” Ben said, “I’ve decided to consider taking the case.”

“Great.” Payne mopped his brow. “What a relief.”

“I haven’t agreed to represent him yet,” Ben insisted, more for Christina’s benefit than Payne’s. “Where can I find the defendant?”

“At the city jail. I’ll drive you into town.”

“When can we do it?”

“The sooner the better. There’s a pretrial conference set for half an hour from now.”

“What?”