Open and Shut - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,16

burst of humanity.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“Top man. Top man.” He's positively gushing. “One of the best.”

“Thank you,” I reply again.

“You said that already.” Hatchet is back in character. “The decision is coming down today from Appeals. You're getting your retrial.”

There it is. Willie is saved, at least for the time being. Hatchet said it with such a lack of emotion that it took me off guard, though of course I would have expected nothing else.

I'm going to be humble about this. “That's good news. It's the right decision.”

“Bullshit.”

I nod agreeably. “That's another way of looking at it.”

He takes off his glasses and stares at me, peering through the darkness. This is not a good sign. There is a possibility I will never be heard from again.

“You got the retrial on a technicality.” He says “technicality” with such intense disdain that his teeth are clenched. It comes out “technically,” but I don't think I'll point this out. What I think I'll do is just listen.

“You'll need a hell of a lot more in court,” he continues. “There was enough evidence to convict Miller ten times over, and that's not going to change.”

“Well …” I begin.

“Bullshit.” I wonder how he knew what I was going to say?

“Your father did a good job prosecuting that case, but Daffy-fucking-Duck could have nailed Miller. And your courtroom stunts, should you be crazy enough to risk contempt and try them, won't help.”

A question forms on my lips, but I hesitate to ask because I dread the answer. I can't help myself. “Has a judge been assigned?”

“You're looking at him,” he says with obvious relish.

“Wonderful,” I lie. Other than the fact that I just got twenty-two million dollars dropped in my lap, and my client isn't going to be executed anytime soon, this has been a rough couple of days.

“You know,” he says, “there are some people that refer to me behind my back as Hatchet Henderson.”

“No!” I'm flabbergasted. “Why would they do that?”

“Because I cut the balls off lawyers in my courtroom who piss me off.”

“As well you should.”

“Trial is set for four weeks from today. I want your motions filed within ten days.”

This is simply unacceptable. Four weeks is not nearly enough time. I don't care if they call him Hatchet, I'm not going to let him walk all over me. “Judge, I need more time. The preparation involved will take—”

He cuts me off. “You've got four weeks.”

I'm raging with anger now. There is no way this asshole is going to railroad me and my client into this. “Four weeks,” I nod.

I realize that Hatchet is looking back at the papers on his desk. He's effectively dismissed me.

“Nice talking to you, Judge.” He doesn't respond; I have ceased to exist. Without saying another word, I turn and leave, closing the door behind me. I don't say goodbye. That'll teach him.

My next stop is out to the prison to tell Willie the good news in person. It's the first one of these visits I've looked forward to, although I'm already starting to focus on just how difficult this trial is going to be.

On the way to the cell, Danny asks me if I've gotten any news on Willie's appeal. He obviously can sense that I have.

“I really want to talk to Willie about it first,” I say.

He nods. “I understand. I hope he gets the new trial.”

I just nod, still noncommittal. It would seem a betrayal of Willie to tell anybody else before I tell him.

Danny continues, “I don't always root for the prisoners, you know? But I like Willie. I don't know what he did, or didn't do, but I judge 'em on how they are in here. And I like Willie.”

Willie is waiting for me, but trying to act nonchalant. He can't quite pull it off, but it doesn't matter. I get right to it.

“We heard from the Court of Appeals. We got the retrial.”

Willie sort of flinches when he hears it. I was nervous waiting to hear what Hatchet would tell me, and I'm just the lawyer. Willie was listening to hear whether he would live or die. He's going to live, at least for now. I can't imagine what this moment would have been like if I had to tell him the appeal was turned down. I don't know how I could have done it.

I call Laurie and tell her the good news. We agree to meet the next morning at eight o'clock in my office. There's going to be about three