he told Summer. “That’s it.”
After Spiv bolted the door behind her, Summer flashed a business card. “Remember me, your court-appointed attorney?”
Punch-punch-kick-punch. Summer could hear SK’s hands and feet snap air.
Summer put the card back in her pocket. “They didn’t rough you up too much when they brought you back from arraignment, did they?”
SK continued to pretend she wasn’t there. Summer took a moment to look around. The toilet was molded steel, the pipes leaking, and the flush handle broken off. There was no sink. The mattress was chewed up, the foam padding ripped out and scattered. Pointing at the mattress, she said, “You didn’t do that, did you?”
SK talked while she sparred. “It was like that when I got here.”
“They’re not known for their maid service here.”
SK grunted.
There was never an easy way to start. “I’d like to ask you about what happened. From the beginning.”
SK responded by ducking imagined blows.
“I’m trying to help,” Summer said.
SK concentrated on her training. Summer was almost relieved. If SK refused to talk with her, she might be able to convince Levi to assign someone else, maybe Rosie, who would be happy to match her fire with SK’s ire. Summer tried one last time—sans diplomacy. “What’s your fucking problem?”
Finally a question SK deemed worthy of a response. She finished her workout with a flourish of kicks and slumped on the bench. After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, she spoke without looking at Summer. “A public defender kept the man who murdered my husband out of jail. Now he’s free and I’m here in this sewer suite. Alone. No husband. No family. Just me.”
“You blame me because another P.D. got a client you don’t like an acquittal with an insanity defense?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. Most of my clients don’t begin blaming me until after the verdict is in.”
SK scowled. She zipped up her jumpsuit and backhanded sweat beads from her forehead. “How long have you been a public defender?”
“Four years.”
“What’s your success rate?”
“You mean, how many acquittals have I gotten?”
“Yeah.”
Summer watched a bug scurry across the floor. SK was wrong. Lots of cockroaches called this cell home. “I don’t get to cherry pick.”
“How many?”
“One.”
SK shut her eyes and shook her head. “How many murder trials?”
Summer hesitated. “This is my first.”
SK buried her face in her hands and spoke through her fingers. “You want me to be a guinea pig for some Barbie doll bureaucrat who’s won exactly once and never worked a murder case in her life?”
Summer’s forehead felt hot; her heart beat so hard that her vision blurred. She glanced through the portal at Spiv. He caught her eye and splayed his fingers over the glass. Five minutes. “If you’re that unsatisfied, you can file what’s called a Marsden. Usually the court is reluctant to approve a change merely because of a personality conflict, but give it a try. Perhaps we can find you another public defender more to your liking. But until you retain another lawyer, I’m it.”
SK’s expression betrayed nothing.
Summer kept pressing. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, let’s get to work so we can get you out of here.”
She followed SK’s eyes as they took in the cell. Summer had seen this look before in clients: Am I going to spend the rest of my life here?
She seized the moment. “Where were you the night Gundy died?”
SK relented. “In bed. With a cold.”
Summer didn’t give her time to stonewall. Keep the questions coming. Don’t let her hedge. “Did anyone see you there?”
“No.”
“Did you make or receive any telephone calls that night?”
“No.”
“No one can confirm where you were at that time?”
SK shook her head.
“Did you seek medical attention, or can anyone verify you were ill?”
“It was just a bug, a 24-hour kind of thing.”
“Blood matching Gundy’s was
After Spiv bolted the door behind her, Summer flashed a business card. “Remember me, your court-appointed attorney?”
Punch-punch-kick-punch. Summer could hear SK’s hands and feet snap air.
Summer put the card back in her pocket. “They didn’t rough you up too much when they brought you back from arraignment, did they?”
SK continued to pretend she wasn’t there. Summer took a moment to look around. The toilet was molded steel, the pipes leaking, and the flush handle broken off. There was no sink. The mattress was chewed up, the foam padding ripped out and scattered. Pointing at the mattress, she said, “You didn’t do that, did you?”
SK talked while she sparred. “It was like that when I got here.”
“They’re not known for their maid service here.”
SK grunted.
There was never an easy way to start. “I’d like to ask you about what happened. From the beginning.”
SK responded by ducking imagined blows.
“I’m trying to help,” Summer said.
SK concentrated on her training. Summer was almost relieved. If SK refused to talk with her, she might be able to convince Levi to assign someone else, maybe Rosie, who would be happy to match her fire with SK’s ire. Summer tried one last time—sans diplomacy. “What’s your fucking problem?”
Finally a question SK deemed worthy of a response. She finished her workout with a flourish of kicks and slumped on the bench. After taking a few seconds to catch her breath, she spoke without looking at Summer. “A public defender kept the man who murdered my husband out of jail. Now he’s free and I’m here in this sewer suite. Alone. No husband. No family. Just me.”
“You blame me because another P.D. got a client you don’t like an acquittal with an insanity defense?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. Most of my clients don’t begin blaming me until after the verdict is in.”
SK scowled. She zipped up her jumpsuit and backhanded sweat beads from her forehead. “How long have you been a public defender?”
“Four years.”
“What’s your success rate?”
“You mean, how many acquittals have I gotten?”
“Yeah.”
Summer watched a bug scurry across the floor. SK was wrong. Lots of cockroaches called this cell home. “I don’t get to cherry pick.”
“How many?”
“One.”
SK shut her eyes and shook her head. “How many murder trials?”
Summer hesitated. “This is my first.”
SK buried her face in her hands and spoke through her fingers. “You want me to be a guinea pig for some Barbie doll bureaucrat who’s won exactly once and never worked a murder case in her life?”
Summer’s forehead felt hot; her heart beat so hard that her vision blurred. She glanced through the portal at Spiv. He caught her eye and splayed his fingers over the glass. Five minutes. “If you’re that unsatisfied, you can file what’s called a Marsden. Usually the court is reluctant to approve a change merely because of a personality conflict, but give it a try. Perhaps we can find you another public defender more to your liking. But until you retain another lawyer, I’m it.”
SK’s expression betrayed nothing.
Summer kept pressing. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, let’s get to work so we can get you out of here.”
She followed SK’s eyes as they took in the cell. Summer had seen this look before in clients: Am I going to spend the rest of my life here?
She seized the moment. “Where were you the night Gundy died?”
SK relented. “In bed. With a cold.”
Summer didn’t give her time to stonewall. Keep the questions coming. Don’t let her hedge. “Did anyone see you there?”
“No.”
“Did you make or receive any telephone calls that night?”
“No.”
“No one can confirm where you were at that time?”
SK shook her head.
“Did you seek medical attention, or can anyone verify you were ill?”
“It was just a bug, a 24-hour kind of thing.”
“Blood matching Gundy’s was
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