Open and Shut - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,33

was just before I busted 'em up.”

This takes me by surprise. “You mean they went after you for a reason? It wasn't just a random attack?”

Willie laughs at my prison naet “Random attack? There ain't no such thing in here, man. Nope, whoever sent them had a reason, and I'll bet he paid big bucks to get it done. You must be gettin’ somewhere, man.”

I don't think I'll share this with Willie, but the only thing I'm getting is confused. Somebody tried to have Willie killed because I am uncovering something. I see three minor problems with that: I don't know who that somebody could be, I don't know why they would go after Willie, and I've uncovered absolutely nothing.

I offer to have Willie moved into solitary confinement for his own protection, but he acts as if I am trying to steal his bicycle. He promises he can take care of himself, which seems to be a promise he can keep.

I head home for a restful three hours sleep, knowing full well that I'll be just as confused in the morning.

KEVIN IS WAITINGFOR ME AND CHOMPING ON his second raspberry turnover when I arrive at the office in the morning. Edna has already drawn him into her morning crossword puzzle, and is showing off her skills. He is suitably impressed, as she knew he would be. I hear her tell him that he has a flair for crosswords; she says it in an offhanded way, like Joe DiMaggio might have said to a rookie, “Nice arm, kid.”

I like Kevin's style. When his mouth is not too full of food to talk, he's got a dry sense of humor, but a straightforward way of working. His work style on this case is simple and as advertised; he wants me to give him assignments and he'll accomplish them to the best of his ability. Based on this experience, if I were running a big firm, I would do all my recruiting at Laundromats. The first task I give Kevin is to prepare a motion for change of venue.

Change of venue motions almost never succeed, and they almost never should. If the publicity around a crime is so intense as to make it impossible to empanel an impartial jury, then that publicity is rarely localized. Judges recognize this, and since they are naturally protective of their own turf anyway, they almost always deny the motion.

My reason for requesting the change in this instance has more to do with Hatchet than with the community. I would love to get Hatchet off the case, but I have no grounds on which to so move. If I tried, it would get me nowhere and would most likely piss him off. Requesting the venue change represents a way to remove him, without directly identifying him as the reason.

Kevin outlines for me what his argument will be, and it is a solid one. Willie's case did not get particularly intense media coverage at the time, so at this late date its awareness level in other communities would not be great. However, local people have heard of it, and more importantly they are aware that a jury convicted Willie the first time. The prosecution has already made its case to the local media that the trial was overturned on a technicality, leaving Willie with a presumption of guilt in the minds of potential jurors.

Kevin has also managed to acquire specific, detailed information showing how much attention the media has devoted to this case, and it demonstrates that the recent coverage has been almost entirely local. It is a good argument, Kevin will make it persuasively, and we will lose.

I'm exhausted from last night, and I'd love to cancel lunch with Philip. The problem is that nobody cancels lunch with Philip. So I head out to meet him at the Westmount Tennis Club in Demarest. It's a twenty-minute drive from my office, but for all intents and purposes it's in another world. There are thirty-eight courts, a mixture of hard surface, clay, and grass. The place is perfectly landscaped on seventy-one acres, has three gorgeous swimming pools, a world-class restaurant, killer daiquiris, and ballboys on every court. It also, as far as I can tell, has a membership that does not include a single decent tennis player.

Philip is sitting in the lounge, picking at a fruit plate, when I arrive. He seems pleased to see me, and introduces me to the assortment of rich people within introducing range. I briefly