A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,17

is dead?”

“Deader’n hell. Kid blew his brains out while he was sleepin’. Capital, dude, death penalty and all. Killing a cop will get you the gas nine times outta ten in this state.”

“Didn’t you handle a divorce for him?”

“His first one, not his second. He got pissed off about my fee and became a disgruntled client. When he called about the second, I told him to get lost. Married a couple of crazies, but then he had a fondness for bad women, especially in tight jeans.”

“Any kids?”

“None that I know of. None that he knew of either.”

Carla scurried out of bed and stood beside it. She frowned at Jake as if someone was lying. Three weeks earlier, Officer Stuart Kofer had visited her class of sixth graders and given a wonderful presentation on the dangers of illegal drugs.

“But he’s only sixteen,” Jake said, scratching his eyes.

“Spoken like a true liberal defense lawyer. Noose will be callin’ you before you know it, Jake. Think about it. Who tried the last capital murder case in Ford County? You. Carl Lee Hailey.”

“But that was five years ago.”

“Doesn’t matter. Name another lawyer around here who’ll even think about taking a serious criminal case. Nobody. And more important, Jake, there’s no one else in the county who’s competent enough to take a capital case.”

“No way. What about Jack Walter?”

“He’s back in the sauce. Noose got two complaints last month from disgruntled clients and he’s about to notify the state bar.” How Harry Rex knew such things was always a marvel to Jake.

“I thought they sent him away.”

“They did, but he came back, thirstier than ever.”

“What about Gill Maynard?”

“He got burned in that rape case last year. Told Noose he’d surrender his license before he got stuck with another bad criminal appointment. And he’s pretty awful on his feet. Noose was beyond frustrated with the guy in the courtroom. Give me another name.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think a minute.”

“A waste of time. I’m tellin’ you, Jake, Noose will call you sometime today. Can you leave the country for a week or so?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry Rex. We have motions before Noose at ten Tuesday morning, the rather insignificant matter of the Smallwood case? Remember that one?”

“Dammit. I thought it was next week.”

“Good thing I’m in charge of the case. Not to mention such trivial matters as Carla and her job and Hanna and her classes. It’s silly to think we can just disappear. I’m not running, Harry Rex.”

“You’ll wish you had, believe me. This case is nothin’ but trouble.”

“If Noose calls, I’ll talk to him and explain why I can’t get involved. I’ll suggest that he appoint someone from another county. He likes those two guys in Oxford who’ll take anything, and he’s brought them in before.”

“Last I heard they’re swamped with death row appeals. They always lose at trial, you know. Makes the appellate stuff go on forever. Listen to me, Jake, you do not want a dead-cop case. The facts are against you. The politics are against you. There’s not a chance in hell the jury will show any sympathy.”

“Got it, got it, got it, Harry Rex. Let me drink some coffee and talk to Carla.”

“Is she in the shower?”

“Well, no.”

“That’s my favorite fantasy, you know.”

“Later, Harry Rex.” Jake hung up and followed Carla to the kitchen where they brewed coffee. The spring morning was almost warm enough to sit on the patio, but not quite. They settled around a small table in the breakfast nook, with a pleasant view of the pink and white azaleas blooming in the backyard. The dog, a recent rescue effort they called Mully but who, so far, answered to nothing except food, emerged from his turf in the washroom and stared at the patio door. Jake let him outside and poured two cups.

Over coffee, he repeated everything Harry Rex said, except the parting shot about Carla in the shower, and they discussed the unpleasant possibility of getting dragged into the case. Jake agreed that the Honorable Omar Noose, his friend and mentor, was unlikely to appoint another lawyer from the rather shallow pool of talent that was the Ford County bar. Almost to a man, or to a person since there was now one female lawyer, they avoided jury trials, preferring instead to do the paperwork required of their quiet little office practices. Harry Rex was always up to a good courtroom brawl, but only in domestic relations cases tried before judges; no juries. Ninety-five percent of