and combed straight back from his wide forehead. He had thin, nearly indiscernible lips and dull, yellowish teeth. He was wearing a navy blue suit that looked like it was tailor-made, just like the suit he wore during Billy Dockery’s trial. His Italian loafers were black instead of brown, but a white kerchief was still rising out of the breast pocket. He strode straight up to my desk and stood there looking at me.
“The legend returns,” he said. The tone was sarcastic, and he wasn’t smiling.
I knew Alexander was a fairly recent hire in the DA’s office. Prior to his becoming an assistant district attorney, he’d been an ambulance chaser and divorce attorney. He’d been with the DA’s office for less than a year, and from what I’d read in the newspapers, he was trying mightily to make a name for himself by pressing for the maximum punishment on every case he handled. He wasn’t having much success, though, and after watching him try Dockery’s case, I knew why.
“Hello, Alexander,” I said, looking back down at my box of goodies.
“Run out of money?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Did you run out of money? Is that why you’re working here?”
“Not exactly.”
“Planning on running for office?”
“No.”
“What then? Why are you here?”
“Thought it might be entertaining.” I pulled another photograph out of the box, this one of my son, Jack, swinging a baseball bat.
“Entertaining?” Dunn said. “Well, just so you know, your pleasure is my pain. You’re hurting my career.”
“Really? How?”
“This new murder should be my case,” he blurted. “I’ve been here longer than you.” His tone had changed from sarcastic to whiny.
“Sorry. Just doing what the boss tells me to do.”
“What makes you think you can just waltz in here and take over? People aren’t happy about this, you know. People in the office. People in law enforcement. I’ve heard lots of bad things about you. Don’t expect any help from anyone.”
“Don’t worry, Alexander. I wouldn’t think of asking you for help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t ask you for help. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m kind of busy here.”
I looked up from the box and noticed that his lower lip had started quivering slightly, but he remained standing in front of my desk. He seemed to be having some kind of debate with himself about whether he should say what was on his mind. Finally, he spit it out.
“How’s that sister of yours? Still a drug addict and a thief?”
It was true. Sarah had been a drug addict and a thief in the past, but she’d been clean for more than a year. She’d replaced her drug addiction with religious fervor, but given a choice between the two extremes, I’d take good old Southern Baptist fanaticism every time.
I forced myself to smile at him, but my blood pressure was steadily rising.
“I’m tired, Alexander,” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s been an extremely difficult first day on the job, and I think you should leave now.”
“It’s a shame,” he said, “having an assistant district attorney whose sister is a career criminal. It doesn’t look good for the office.”
“Maybe you should take it up with the boss.”
“Maybe I will.” He sounded like a fifth grader.
“Let me help you with the door,” I said, and I moved quickly around the desk towards him. I was a good five inches taller than him and at least forty pounds heavier. He started backing towards the door as though he were afraid I’d pull a gun and shoot him if he took his eyes off of me. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I raised an index finger to my lips.
“Shhh. I’m not sure what might happen if you start talking again.”
His eyes opened even wider. A trembling hand found the doorknob behind him. The door squeaked as it opened, and he turned and slithered out.
I stood there staring at the door for almost a full minute with the insult about Sarah ringing
“The legend returns,” he said. The tone was sarcastic, and he wasn’t smiling.
I knew Alexander was a fairly recent hire in the DA’s office. Prior to his becoming an assistant district attorney, he’d been an ambulance chaser and divorce attorney. He’d been with the DA’s office for less than a year, and from what I’d read in the newspapers, he was trying mightily to make a name for himself by pressing for the maximum punishment on every case he handled. He wasn’t having much success, though, and after watching him try Dockery’s case, I knew why.
“Hello, Alexander,” I said, looking back down at my box of goodies.
“Run out of money?”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Did you run out of money? Is that why you’re working here?”
“Not exactly.”
“Planning on running for office?”
“No.”
“What then? Why are you here?”
“Thought it might be entertaining.” I pulled another photograph out of the box, this one of my son, Jack, swinging a baseball bat.
“Entertaining?” Dunn said. “Well, just so you know, your pleasure is my pain. You’re hurting my career.”
“Really? How?”
“This new murder should be my case,” he blurted. “I’ve been here longer than you.” His tone had changed from sarcastic to whiny.
“Sorry. Just doing what the boss tells me to do.”
“What makes you think you can just waltz in here and take over? People aren’t happy about this, you know. People in the office. People in law enforcement. I’ve heard lots of bad things about you. Don’t expect any help from anyone.”
“Don’t worry, Alexander. I wouldn’t think of asking you for help.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I won’t ask you for help. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m kind of busy here.”
I looked up from the box and noticed that his lower lip had started quivering slightly, but he remained standing in front of my desk. He seemed to be having some kind of debate with himself about whether he should say what was on his mind. Finally, he spit it out.
“How’s that sister of yours? Still a drug addict and a thief?”
It was true. Sarah had been a drug addict and a thief in the past, but she’d been clean for more than a year. She’d replaced her drug addiction with religious fervor, but given a choice between the two extremes, I’d take good old Southern Baptist fanaticism every time.
I forced myself to smile at him, but my blood pressure was steadily rising.
“I’m tired, Alexander,” I said through clenched teeth. “It’s been an extremely difficult first day on the job, and I think you should leave now.”
“It’s a shame,” he said, “having an assistant district attorney whose sister is a career criminal. It doesn’t look good for the office.”
“Maybe you should take it up with the boss.”
“Maybe I will.” He sounded like a fifth grader.
“Let me help you with the door,” I said, and I moved quickly around the desk towards him. I was a good five inches taller than him and at least forty pounds heavier. He started backing towards the door as though he were afraid I’d pull a gun and shoot him if he took his eyes off of me. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I raised an index finger to my lips.
“Shhh. I’m not sure what might happen if you start talking again.”
His eyes opened even wider. A trembling hand found the doorknob behind him. The door squeaked as it opened, and he turned and slithered out.
I stood there staring at the door for almost a full minute with the insult about Sarah ringing
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