A Time for Mercy (Jake Brigance #3) - John Grisham Page 0,30

boy with a fine reputation, but that started changin’ today. By the end of the week your good name will be mud because you’re tryin’ to spring the kid who murdered our deputy.”

“I’m not sure it was murder.”

“You’re crazy, Jake. Have you been hangin’ around Lucien again?”

“No, not today. It could be insanity. Could be justifiable homicide.”

“Could be. Could be. Let me tell you what it will be. It’ll be suicide for you and your law practice in this small and unforgiving town. Even if you keep Noose happy, it’ll still kill Smallwood. Can’t you see that, Jake?”

“You’re overreacting again, Harry Rex. There are thirty-two thousand people in this county and I’m sure we can find twelve who’ve never heard of me or Stuart Kofer. The railroad’s lawyers can’t point at me in the courtroom and say, ‘Hey, that guy represents cop killers.’ They can’t do that and Noose won’t let them try.”

Harry Rex jerked his feet down as if he’d had enough, and he lumbered out of the room, went to the kitchen, fetched two more beers, and brought them to the table. He popped a top and began pacing along the far end of the table. “Here’s your problem, Jake. Your problem is that you want to be the center of attention. That’s why you fought to hang on to the Hailey case when all the black preachers and organizers and radicals were tellin’ Carl Lee to ditch the white boy before they sent his black ass to Parchman. You fought to keep the case and then you defended him brilliantly. You love it, Jake. I don’t expect you to admit it, but you love the big case, the big trial, the big verdict. You love being in the very center of the arena with all eyes on you.”

Jake ignored the second can and took a sip from his first.

“What’s Carla’s opinion?” Harry Rex asked.

“Mixed. She’s tired of me carrying a gun.”

Harry Rex drank some beer and stopped to stare at a bookcase filled with thick, leather-bound law treatises no one in his office had touched in decades. Not even to dust. Without looking at Jake, he asked, “Did you say the words ‘justifiable homicide’?”

“I did.”

“So you’re already at trial, right, Jake?”

“No, I’m just thinking out loud. Just a habit.”

“Bullshit. You’re already at trial and plannin’ the defense. Did Kofer beat the woman?”

“She’s in the hospital with a concussion and a broken jaw that will require surgery.”

“Did he beat the kids?”

“I don’t know.”

“So there was a pattern of Kofer comin’ home drunk late on Saturday night and slappin’ everybody around. And the way you see the defense is that you’ll in effect put him on trial. You’ll slander his good name by exposin’ all of his sins and bad habits.”

“It’s not slander if it’s true.”

“That could be a very nasty trial, Jake.”

“I’m sorry I mentioned it, Harry Rex. I don’t plan on being anywhere near that courtroom.”

“Now you’re lyin’.”

“No, I think about trials because I’m a lawyer, but this one is for someone else. I’ll get through the preliminary stuff, then unload the kid.”

“I doubt that. I truly doubt that, Jake. I just hope you’re not screwin’ up Smallwood. Truthfully, I really don’t give a damn what happens to Stuart Kofer or his girlfriends and kids and people I’ve never met, but I do care about Smallwood. That case could be the biggest payday in our lousy little careers.”

“I don’t know. I got a thousand bucks for the Hailey case.”

“And that’s about all you’ll get for this turkey too.”

“Well, at least we have Noose on our side.”

“For now. I don’t trust him as much as you do.”

“Have you ever met a judge you trusted?”

“No. Nor a lawyer.”

“Look, I gotta go. I need a favor.”

“A favor? Right now I’d like to choke you.”

“Yeah, but you won’t. Tomorrow morning at six, I’ll walk into the Coffee Shop and say hello to Marshall Prather. Same routine. Might be another deputy or two at the table. I need a wingman.”

“You’ve lost your mind, Jake.”

“Come on, pal. Think of all the crazy stuff I’ve done for you.”

“Nope. You’re on your own. Tomorrow mornin’ you get another dose of life as a small-town criminal lawyer.”

“And you’re afraid to be seen with me?”

“No. I’m afraid of wakin’ up that early. Beat it, pal. You’re makin’ your own decisions these days, without regard to others. I’m pissed and I plan to stay that way for a long time.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“This time I mean