Leo kicked his feet up on the wobbly desk and reclined back. The desk chair groaned in protest, pinched his ass a little tighter, but he didn’t notice. As he reclined, he could feel the fat Dominican cigar in his breast pocket, pressing comfortably against his chest. The potent aroma of it penetrated his suit jacket and assaulted his nose delightfully. It was an expensive indulgence. For celebration. Celebration after the word came down. And there would be cause to celebrate. He knew that. Just as he knew that he deserved whatever praise he received. After all, he had single-handedly put the whole case together. He knew that. Paula knew that. Soon, Bob would know it. Paula was meeting with him now. And Leo knew, he just knew there was no way Bob could say no. How could he? If it weren’t for Leo, there wouldn’t even be a case.
He patted the cigar in his breast pocket and smiled contentedly.
The phone rang.
When she heard the knock on her office door, Paula stubbed out her cigarette and hid the ashtray in a desk drawer.
“Open!”
Leo stuck his head in. “You rang?”
“Yeah, come on in. I’ve got some news.”
“What’s up?” Leo asked, and the open expectancy of his face sickened her a little, but only a little. It was going to be unpleasant, and Paula really didn’t care for unpleasantness. She knew he was expecting to hear good news-all is forgiven, please come home-but, in the words of Theodore Roosevelt, tough titty.
Paula retrieved her ashtray back out of the desk and lit another cigarette. She exhaled a long plume of smoke and said, “Word just came down.”
“Yeah?”
“Bob wants me to handle the case myself.”
“He does?”
“That’s right.”
“And second chair?”
Paula took a deep mental breath. “Bob will be second chair.”
“What?” The word barely made a sound as it fell from Leo’s mouth. To Paula, it sounded like what you might hear come out of the mouth of a man who had just taken a vicious blow to the stomach. Leo took a deep breath. “Why would Bob want second chair? That makes no sense.”
“Think about it. It’s Monty Lee’s brother. This is about justice, but it’s also a little bit about revenge. A way to send Monty Lee a message. Settle accounts.”
“I wanted to settle some accounts myself.”
“I know. It’s your case. You did all the work. You made the case. I told Bob, but he doesn’t want you in the courtroom. This shouldn’t be a surprise to you. Bob Fox is not a man who forgives and forgets.”
“Fuck Bob. This is my case.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was your advocate in there, believe me. I told Bob I wanted you in the courtroom, backing me up, but he wouldn’t go for it.”
“Did you tell him there would be no case if it weren’t for me?”
“Of course I did.”
“You guys were gonna file it away. You were just gonna file it away! I made this case! It’s mine! How can you?”
“Leo, come on, you’re overreacting. You’ll get credit.”
“Yeah, right! Oh, thanks, Leo, for gathering all the evidence. Thanks, Leo, for finding and interviewing all the witnesses. Thanks, Leo, for telling us there was a fucking murder in the first fucking place!”
“Leo, I’m sorry.”
“‘Your faithful fucking servant.’ Fuck you.”
Paula arched a carefully plucked eyebrow at Leo. Pity only went so far, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tolerate his verbal abuse. “I think you’re forgetting who’s the servant and who’s the master.” She watched as Leo began to pace in front of her desk. He was growing more and more agitated as the magnitude of just how badly he had been swindled sank in. Paula had expected things to get ugly. She had planned for it. She would let him work himself up, let him vent his righteous anger, but then she would yank the leash. There was only so much shit she was willing to take.
“You don’t want to make an enemy of me, too. I told you, I’m sorry. I did everything I could to get you in that courtroom. Don’t blame me if you burned your bridges.”
Leo ran his hand across his smooth head, his fingers for once not registering the lack of hair. His pant legs flapped as he paced. He was simply not able to comprehend this was happening.
“I just can’t believe you guys would pull it out from under me like that.”
“I know.”
“I feel like I’ve been sucker punched.”
“I know.”
“You know! What the fuck do you know? You have no idea!”
His voice boomed out at her, and he slammed his fists violently down on Paula’s desk, hard enough to send the ashtray spinning into the air, cigarette butts twisting lazy curlicues over the desktop. Paula jerked back involuntarily. It was a reflex. Just as when a normally docile pet bites its master’s hand, she pulled back, stunned. Leo’s face had gone a color Paula couldn’t quite put a name to, and for the first time ever, she felt afraid of Leo Hewitt. She was afraid he might do something, well, crazy. His rage was absolute. Then she got hold of herself. Okay, the man’s about to go ballistic, but, hey, let’s remember, it’s only Leo. Okay, yes, it was only Leo. For a second there, she’d been scared, but that had just been a reflex. Fear was a controllable emotion, and she’d be damned if she’d let him know that he’d caused her to fear him. Never show fear. That was something she’d learned as a little girl growing up around farm animals in rural Georgia. No matter how vicious the animal, you could always keep the upper hand if you showed no fear. If a mongrel dog confronted you, growling and barking, you were dead if you showed fear. What you did was bark back. Louder. You had to go to the dog’s level. You had to make yourself mad. And you had to let the animal see your anger. And fuck this little man. Just who the fuck did he think he was yelling at? She wasn’t going to sit here and take this shit off the likes of him.
“Leo, you had best get hold of yourself or you’ll find yourself back out on the street. And I fucking mean it! You will show me the respect I’ve earned! I do not have to, and I will not tolerate your belligerent attitude. I told you that I did everything I could for you. End of discussion. Now get the hell out of my office.” Her words were harsh, and she liked the sound of them. They had the impact she intended. Just as a loud noise scares a barking dog, Leo heeled.
“I’m sorry, Paula. Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to take it out on you. I know you did everything you could. I mean, we’re friends, right? It’s not your fault. I’m sorry. It’s just that… This was my case. You know? This was gonna be my-”
“I know,” she said, and inwardly smiled.
PART THREE There’s men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;
And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell…
The music almost died away… then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, “Repay, repay,” and my eyes were blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill… then the music stopped with a crash…
– ROBERT W. SERVICE,
“THE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREW”
THIRTY-FIVE
It is very cold in this cell. But not dark. The lights stay on all day and all night, stark, fluorescent, and humming. But still, the darkness is with me here. Inside me. It has not left. If you are unlucky enough to have known the dark as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for darkness is a movable feast.
Paradoxically, I find that I don’t mind the dark. Other things bother me. There are so many things ahead of me, I can hardly wait for them to arrive. I see now that my journey into the light has only just begun. Eugene O’Neill called his autobiographical play Long Day’s Journey into Night. Mine will be the inverse.