understand lawyerly advice. They want a hug and someone to make decisions. They’re scared and looking for friends.
She’d held many small hands in courtrooms. She’d wiped many tears.
She imagined this scene: A huge, empty federal courtroom in New Orleans with the doors locked and two marshals guarding it; Mark on the witness stand; Foltrigg in all his glory strutting around on his home turf, prancing back and forth for the benefit of his little assistants and perhaps an FBI agent or two; the judge in a black robe. He was handling it delicately, and he probably disliked Foltrigg immensely because he was forced to see him all the time. He, the judge, asks Mark if he in fact refused to answer certain questions before the grand jury that very morning in a room just a short
distance down the hall. Mark, looking upward at his honor, answers yes. What was the first question? the judge asks Foltrigg, who’s on his feet with a legal pad, strutting and prancing as if the room were filled with cameras. I asked him, Your Honor, if Jerome Clifford, prior to the suicide, said anything about the body of Senator Boyd Boyette. And he refused to answer, Your Honor. Then I asked him if Jerome Clifford in fact told him where the body is buried. And he refused to answer this question as well, Your Honor. And the judge leans down even closer to Mark. There is no smile. Mark stares at his lawyer. Why didn’t you answer these questions? the judge asks. Because I don’t want to, Mark answers, and it’s almost funny. But there are no smiles. Well, the judge says, I am ordering you to answer these questions before the grand jury, do you understand me, Mark? I’m ordering you to return to the grand jury room right now and answer all of Mr. Fol-trigg’s questions, do you understand this? Mark says nothing and doesn’t move a muscle. He stares at his trusted lawyer, thirty feet away. What if I don’t answer the questions? he finally asks, and this irritates the judge. You have no choice, young man. You must answer because I’m ordering it. And if I don’t? Mark asks, terrified. Well, then I’ll find you in contempt and I’ll probably incarcerate you until you do as I say. For a very long time, the judge growls.
Axle rubbed against the chair and startled her. The courtroom scene was gone. She closed the book and walked to the window. The best advice to Mark would be simply to lie. Tell a big one. At the critical moment, just explain how the late Jerome Clifford said nothing about Boyd Boyette. He was crazy and drunk
and stoned, and said nothing, really. Who in the world could ever know the difference? Mark was a cool liar.
HE AWOKE IN A STRANGE BED BETWEEN A SOFT MATTRESS
and a heavy layer of blankets. A dim lamp from the hallway cast a narrow light through the slit in the doorway. His battered Nikes were in a chair by the door, but the rest of his clothing was still on. He slid the blankets to his knees and the bed squeaked. He stared at the ceiling and vaguely remembered being escorted to this room by Reggie and Momma Love. Then he remembered the swing on the porch and being very tired.
Slowly, he swung his feet from the bed and sat on the edge of it. He remembered being led and pushed up the stairs. Things were clearing up. He sat in the chair and laced his sneakers. The floor was wooden and creaked softly as he walked to the door and opened it. The hinges popped. The hallway was still. Three other doors opened into it, and they were all closed. He eased to the stairway, and tiptoed down, in no hurry.
A light from the kitchen caught his attention, and he walked faster. The clock on the wall gave the time as two-twenty. He now remembered that Reggie didn’t live there; she was above the garage. Momma Love was probably sound asleep upstairs, so he stopped the creeping along and crossed the foyer, unlocked the front door, and found his spot in the swing. The air was cool and the front lawn was pitch black.
For a moment, he was frustrated with himself for falling asleep and being put to bed in this house. He belonged at the hospital with his mother, sleeping on
the same crippling bed, waiting for Ricky to snap