Flood - Andrew H. Vachss [77]
“You wouldn’t be working for the people this man allegedly rolled over on, would you, Mr. Lawrence?”
“No. I thought you knew better, Toby.”
“I know you—at least I know something of you. And I know you walk pretty close to the line all the time.”
“There’s some lines I wouldn’t cross.”
“So you say.”
“My references are in the street, right?”
“Some of your references are doing time.”
“How many for baby-raping?”
“Okay, I get your point. Now let me think a bit.” He turned to Flood. “Are you uncomfortable like that? Would you like me to take your coat?” Flood the genius favored him with a dazzling smile and handed it to him. Toby approached to take the coat from her and the combination of Flood’s perfume and her dancing chest almost knocked him back into his chair. But you don’t get to be a top criminal trial lawyer without some degree of composure, so he just took the coat and turned to hang it on a wooden rack—only his reddened ears gave him away. We all sat in silence, Toby smoking his pipe, me smoking one cigarette after another, and Flood taking deep breaths every time she thought Toby or I looked bored.
Time passed. Nobody talked. Phones rang down the hall, sometimes fifteen or twenty times. They always stopped eventually. Maybe someone picked them up, maybe somebody gave up—who could tell? We all jumped when the phone on Toby’s desk rang. He snatched the receiver, barked “Ringer!” into it, and Flood and I listened to his half of the conversation, obviously with a new D.A. in the Complaint Room:
“What’s the cop say?” Pause. “What about the complaining witness?” Pause. “Guy have a record?” Pause. “Okay, don’t get worked up. It’s no big deal. It’ll never get past the grand jury. Write it up as Assault Third and put a note in the file, No ACD at Arraignment. At least we’ll make him sweat a bit. Tell the Arraignment Part A.D.A. to ask for five hundred bail. Yeah.” Pause. “That’s all.” And he hung up.
ACD just means Adjournment in Contemplation of Dismissal, a six-month walkaway for the defendant—if he doesn’t get busted during that time, the whole case against him is dismissed. All Toby meant was that the guy was going to get a play at some point, but they’d jerk his chain at the first appearance. Standard stuff.
Toby turned to face me. “You’ll answer for Mrs. Lawrence here?”
“No question.”
“She from here?”
“Related to someone from here.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Max the Silent.”
“She doesn’t look Chinese.”
“Doesn’t talk much either, have you noticed?”
“Is that the relationship?”
“No. And Max isn’t Chinese.”
“Okay. I’ll have to go and see if there’s a file. I’ll read through it if there is—then I’ll decide. No discussions, okay? If it looks right to me, maybe we can talk. If not, time for you to go.”
Toby excused himself and went down the hall. Because of our relationship I didn’t use the opportunity to add to my collection of official stationary. Toby knows Max. I had to bring him in once when the police were looking for him and Max had to testify in front of the grand jury. I got to go inside with him since I’m a registered interpreter for the deaf. It says so on the official letterhead of the appropriate city agency. Max wasn’t indicted.
As soon as Toby went out the door Flood opened her mouth to say something. I motioned her to be quiet. I believe Toby’s honest, but I don’t believe any city office isn’t bugged. If it was we hadn’t said anything that would get us in trouble, but with Flood’s mouth you could never be sure. I winked at her to show confidence I didn’t feel, and we sat there waiting.
Toby’s phone rang again. I ignored it. Flood was good at waiting—she just went into some kind of breathing