Flood - Andrew H. Vachss [10]
“We don’t have a private lawyer. The police said that Henry would have Legal Aid—we didn’t have to have one.”
That, of course, made me angry, and I let it show. “What a racist pig! What a terrible thing to say to you folks.”
“You mean it isn’t true?” the mother asks.
“Well, it’s true enough that your son will have Legal Aid if you don’t retain private counsel. But what the cops were really saying is that you’re probably on welfare and you couldn’t afford a real attorney.”
Harry said, “Man, I work. I got a good job. Had it for almost fifteen years. What kinda crap is this?”
“Well, sir, I can’t speak for the police, but you know as well as I do that they’d rather have you go with the Legal Aid so they have a better chance of convicting your son.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Are there any private lawyers right here?”
“Well, Mr. Blumberg himself is here, on that case I told you about. If it doesn’t go forward, I’m sure he could accommodate you.”
“Is he expensive?”
“Well, sir, the best costs the most, as you know. But I also know that Mr. Blumberg is especially interested in young people, and what with you working and all, I’m sure something could be worked out. Of course, you’d have to have a retainer to pay him immediately so he could file a Notice of Appearance on your son’s behalf.”
Now the lady got back into the act. “How much would that be, mister?”
“Well, it generally runs about five hundred dollars, but Mr. Blumberg doesn’t expect people to walk around with that kind of money, the way crime in the streets is today.”
“Do you know how much he would take?”
“Well, I know he never takes less than two hundred, no matter what. But sometimes he’s lucky and the whole case can be disposed of in a single evening.”
Momma says, “Oh God, that would be wonderful. They been holding my boy in that jail ever since yesterday afternoon and—”
“Well, let me go and find Mr. Blumberg and I’ll get back to you, all right?”
“Thank you, yes.”
I was glad to accommodate them—they seemed like nice folks. Odds were that their kid would get held for the Grand Jury, and Blumberg would be filing his notice For Arraignment Only, but at least they’d have a private lawyer for their two bills. And it just might work out—who knew? This part of my work isn’t really a scam—the people are getting what they paid for. Besides, when it comes to making a quick deal, Blumberg can hang in there with the best of them. He pleads so many cases that he knows what they’re really worth, and he’s not going to let a kid cop to some outrageous nonsense. Sam doesn’t sit in on the games too long anymore, but he can still play a decent hand while he’s there. Anything’s better than some Legal Aid hippie who’ll make some halfass speech about racism or “the system” while the judge doubles the bail.
I quickly found Sam, told him the deal, closed it, brought the good people to him, watched the money change hands, and went along with him to file his notice. I braced him in the hallway, took my fifty bucks, and went back to work.
I told the black couple they should wait inside the courtroom for their kid to be brought up because it would look good to the judge to see them so concerned, and I split. I’m not pleading good Samaritan, but it was an honest dodge. They’d get a fair shake from the fat man.
Business was great that evening. A bullshit burglary charge that even Sam could get tossed was good for a yard and a half, fifty bucks from some character who kept mumbling about wanting a private lawyer so it wouldn’t be like the “last time” and a great score of three hundred from a Puerto Rican whose brother had been held for four days on an attempted murder charge. Sam was in heaven, and I cleared $183. I told him to keep the breakage on the last third (the three-hundred score) and that gave him orgasms.
A couple of hours of intense work and I had Maurice covered plus a