the spectacle of a frivolous trial, for a murder for which he also has an alibi. This treatment of a respected New Orleans businessman is approaching defamation of character.”
Harte glanced at his watch and sighed audibly, for Drury’s benefit. “Okay, Felix. I’ll give Mr. Akers your message.”
“You’re a punk, Delancey, just like your father. Both of you wish you were worthy of shining your grandfather’s shoes.”
Harte wanted to make a smart retort, but all he could think of was Oh yeah? So he just hung up. He opened the door to the D.A.’s office and spoke to the secretary as he passed her desk. He straightened his shoulders, then stepped into the Orleans Parish district attorney’s office. He had no doubt why Vincent Akers had called him. He was probably going to get his butt chewed for securing the order of protection without consulting him. Still, he knew he’d done the right thing.
Akers was a micromanager, too controlling to allow his prosecutors to handle things on their own. He wanted to be consulted on and approve everything they did. And that chafed Harte.
Before he even stepped into the room, the scents of breakfast tickled his nostrils. Coffee, bacon, eggs and some kind of sweet rolls. The D.A.’s breakfasts were legendary. People would come down or up from other floors to sniff and place bets on what was inside the Styrofoam container.
“Talked to Judge Tony Rossi a while ago,” Akers said without looking up from a form he was signing.
Harte resisted the almost overwhelming urge to check the shine on his shoes. He didn’t move a muscle. “Yes, sir?”
Akers leaned back in his leather manager’s chair and harrumphed. “Are you going to pretend that you don’t know what he called about?”
“No, sir.”
“Then stop standing there like an eight-year-old caught with a spitball and a straw and give me the details. Judge Rossi said you didn’t fill him in much. I asked him why he’d sign an order of protection without getting all the details. You know what he said?”
Harte’s throat was quivering with the urge to swallow. He couldn’t resist anymore. He watched Akers watch his Adam’s apple move. “No, sir,” he replied.
“He said, ‘That’s Con’s grandson, Vinnie. He told me his witness was in danger, and I trust his judgment.’” The D.A. folded his hands across his large stomach. “You know what I said back to him?”
Harte sighed. He was getting tired of this game. “No, sir.”
“I said, ‘If he’s Con’s grandson, then he’s a smart-ass and a rounder, but you’re right. His judgment is likely on-target.’”
“Thank you, sir,” Harte said.
Akers shook his head. “No,” he said. “That wasn’t a compliment. It was a concession. I respect Judge Rossi. What I don’t respect is you using your nepotistic connections to get an order of protection late at night without consulting me first. That is not the way I run my office.” He harrumphed again and patted his stomach. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve worked to nail Yeoman? He’s the slipperiest snake I’ve ever run into in my entire career. And I’ve seen some slippery ones.”
“I’m hoping we’ve got him this time, sir,” Harte said.
“You better hope we do. If he’s brought to trial for murder and gets away with it, nobody’ll ever be able to touch him again. Do you understand what kind of a predicament you’ve put me in?”
“I’m just trying to protect my witness.”
Akers sighed exaggeratedly. “And it’s not bad enough that we may lose our last chance to nail Yeoman, we’re wading into deep alligator-infested waters with Ms. Canto dragging Senator Stamps and Paul Guillame into the mix.” He peered up at Harte. “By the time this trial is over, my career’s liable to be too. And if mine is, so is yours. Tell me what you’ve found out about Stamps’s involvement. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to include Paul Guillame.”
Harte winced internally. He had an urge to tell Akers what Dani said about Stamps, but it was no more than a rumor right now. If he could get something concrete, then he’d bring it to the D.A. “Don’t have anything yet, sir,” he said. “I’ve got somebody checking out a couple of rumors for me.”
“Somebody?” Akers raised an eyebrow. “Would I be correct in assuming that this somebody is also related to you?”
Harte angled his head in affirmation. “I’m hoping that with the trial coming up, there’s buzz on the street that could link Yeoman with either Stamps