Open and Shut - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,36

sixty-two years old, and is staggering toward retirement the way a once-a-year marathoner staggers toward the finish line. He is all but sleeping through this case, and I doubt that Wanda and I will provide him any more substantial stimulation.

Wanda's prosecutor, Barry Mullins, comes over to say hello and to go over the final arrangements for the plea. Wanda will plead no contest, Walling will lecture her on the evils of her ways, and she'll get two years probation. If she stays clean, it'll come off her record. My initial assessment is that she won't and it won't.

In any event, it's all straightforward and has been done a million times before; it is a safe bet that no future attorneys will be citing New Jersey v. Morris as precedent-setting law.

Finally, Wanda is brought in and our case is called. Wanda is no more friendly or animated than she was before, and she's also no more nervous.

Without looking up, Walling asks if the state is ready to proceed. “Yes, Your Honor,” says Mullins.

“And the defense?”

“We are, Your Honor,” I intone.

For the first time, Walling looks up, taking off his glasses so that he can see me. He seems surprised.

“Well, Mr. Carpenter, this is an unusual type of case for you to be involved with.”

I bow slightly. “A return to my humble roots, Your Honor.”

I sense something and turn around. The press has moved forward, en masse, apparently interested in this exchange. I'm glad my retort was characteristically clever.

Mullins, less concerned with putting on a show, gets to the point. “Your Honor, Ms. Morris was arrested on May 15 of this year for soliciting a police officer. The District Attorney's office and counsel for the defendant have agreed to probation in this case, if it pleases the court.”

Judge Walling examines the papers before him, as if deciding whether he will go along with this arrangement. Waiting for his decision is not exactly nail-biting time. He's probably had this kind of case brought before him ten thousand times, and it's safe to say that the next plea bargain he refuses to accept will be the first.

When he's finished, he removes his glasses and looks at Wanda, catching her in mid-yawn. “Young lady, do you know what is going on here?”

“Yeah, I'm getting off.” Good old Wanda, she must have been valedictorian of her charm school graduating class.

Walling isn't pleased by her answer or her demeanor. “You are possibly being put on probation. There is a difference.” He looks at me. “Which I hope Mr. Carpenter has explained to you.”

I nod. “In excruciating detail, Your Honor.”

Walling turns back to Wanda. “You understand the difference?”

“Yeah.”

“You will be expected to find proper employment, and to refrain from future actions of this kind.”

Wanda jerks her thumb in my direction. “Tell him that, not me.”

She is now officially getting on my nerves, and I think Walling's as well. He asks her, “Why should I tell Mr. Carpenter that?”

“'Cause he's my pimp.”

It takes a split second for the meaning of what she has said to penetrate. However, it doesn't take the press quite that long. There is an immediate uproar among them; and I realize in a horrifying flash that they have been primed for this.

Walling pounds his gavel to get quiet. “What did you say?” he asks.

“I said, he's my pimp.” Then she looks at me, a puzzled expression on her face. “I thought they knew that.”

Walling turns to me. “Mr. Carpenter, do you have any comment on your client's contention?”

I've been set up. I don't know why, or by whom, and I can't believe that Cal would do this to me.

“Your Honor, she clearly is using a different definition of pimp, from the Latin pimpius, meaning ‘to represent.’ ” I'm floundering and trying to use humor to defuse the disaster. But Wanda will have none of it.

“He keeps me and a bunch of other girls out on the street. We pay him part of what we take in.”

Walling turns to me. He's having so much fun I can see him reconsidering retirement. “Well, Mr. Carpenter, sounds like Webster's definition to me.”

Before I can respond, Wanda drops another bomb. “And he gets free blow jobs whenever he wants.”

The press is going berserk, laughing and cheering as if they are in a nightclub. I try and compose myself.

“Your Honor, this is bizarre. Ms. Morris's father is a friend of mine, and he called me, asked me to help his daughter. I have never met her before today.”

Wanda cuts in