Against All Enemies by Richard Herman

Sutherland’s immaculately polished eight-year-old Volvo, she changed her mind. She was a big woman but moved with a fluid grace as she walked down the jetway that had been salvaged from the airport. The sheltered walkway descended to a barge that had been converted into a restaurant and bar where the trendy crowd watered. She found him sitting next to the railing staring wistfully at a cruiser heading down the Sacramento River. He was nursing a warm beer.
    Without a word, she sat down at his table. “Why did you quit?” she asked.
    Sutherland stared at his drink before answering. “Meredith.”
    “So you lost a case after how long?”
    “Four years.”
    “It had to happen sooner or later.”
    “That one was a slam dunk,” he replied. “Cooper was on the ropes. Those bastards were guilty and everyone knew it. What in hell happened to justice?”
    “Is that the title of the book you’re writing?”
    “No. I’m calling it None Call It Justice .”
    Evans ordered an iced tea from a waitress wearing a pair of shorts that could stop traffic. “You could cause an accident dressed like that,” she told the girl. The girl smiled and flounced away, not recognizing her. “Don’t show up in my court dressed liked that,” Evans murmured. She looked at Sutherland. “How do you think I felt? Meredith took my court away from me.”
    “You could have stopped him,” Sutherland mumbled.
    “True, but that would have guaranteed those Neanderthals would have walked. That was a good jury. I was hoping you could save it.”
    “But I couldn’t,” he muttered. “Who am I kidding? I couldn’t even save my own marriage.”
    “You were a stepping stone on Beth’s path to bigger and better things. Your marriage was finished when she had the affair with Cassidy.” At the time, Ben Cassidy was the state’s attorney general and a fast-rising politician with a future on the national scene.
    “Cassidy wasn’t the first,” Sutherland muttered, feeling very sorry for himself. This was not his first beer.
    “Why did you put up with it? This is a small town and sooner or later, it would all have come out.”
    “Beth always made sure there were, ah, consolation prizes.”
    “Like Cassidy’s wife?” Evans asked, fitting the pieces together. Sutherland didn’t answer and only stared across the river. “You’re better off without her. She’s going for the whole enchilada. Besides, the word is that you can’t afford to quit.”
    “I unloaded the house and moved into a small apartment. I’m on terminal leave and still in the Air Force Reserve. By pulling a couple days’ duty about twice a month I should get by.”
    “Not for long,” Evans said. “Damn it, Hank, you’re one of the good ones. You can make a difference.” She saw Sutherland’s eyes glance toward the jetway and caught the slight flush on his neck. It was one of the many things that made her a good judge. That, and the fact that she cared. She turned in the direction he was looking. Marcy Bangor, the reporter from the Sacramento Union was standing by the reception stand. Marcy was dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts that matched the waitress’s for brevity and a halter top that was a size too small. She clopped across the deck, her high-heeled sandals announcing her entrance.
    “I’ll get by,” Sutherland repeated. “Besides, I’ve got an agent in New York interested.” Marcy wiggled onto a bar stool.
    “What’s the book really about?” Evans asked.
    “It’s an exposé on our system of justice. Be honest, we’re just pissin’ in the wind and getting splattered by it.”
    “Hank, what we’re doing is making a system work. The bottom line: Our job is to support and defend the Constitution.”
    “Against all enemies foreign and domestic,” Sutherland added.
    “I took an oath to make that happen,” Evans said. “Barring the second coming of Christ, it’s the best thing we got for now.”
    Marcy waved from the bar. “Hi, Hank.”