“Don’t know yet. All I’ve got is his side of the story. I don’t know where the cops are with this. Maybe we can come up with something. Devon seems to think that when he gets out he might be able to throw someone else to the DA. Maybe get probation.” Finn thought about it for a moment. “Probably not, though.”
“So it sounds like a shitty case,” Kozlowski said. “Why would we want it?”
Finn sighed. “I knew the guy back in the day. Back when I was mixed up in all that. I feel sorry for him. How can I say no?”
“Easy,” Kozlowski said. “Tongue on the top of your mouth, exhale and round your lips. N-n-n-o-o-o. See?” Finn didn’t smile, and the ex-cop’s face darkened quickly. “You didn’t tell him yes, did you?”
“No, I told him maybe. But I’m thinking yes.”
“I thought you said we were gonna discuss new cases. All three of us.”
“So, I’m discussing. Like I said, I feel bad for the guy. I’d like to help him out.”
“How old is he?” Lissa asked.
“Somewhere in between Koz and me,” Finn said.
“That old?”
Kozlowski stared out at the field. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Lissa said. “I was just thinking being a criminal must suck as you get older.”
“Everything sucks as you get older,” Koz pointed out.
“It’s different,” she said. “If you guys screw up at least you don’t end up in jail.”
“No, if we screw up someone else ends up in jail,” Finn replied. “Besides, it’s not clear that he screwed up. It was an inside job, and it looks like the cops were tipped. It may be that someone wanted him taken out.”
“Any idea who?” Kozlowski asked.
“A few possibilities. I told Devon we might be willing to check them out.”
“Great. Is he going to pay us to do this?”
“He said he would.”
“Will he give us a retainer?” Lissa asked.
Finn shook his head. “He said his money’s in cash and he’s got to get out before he can get it to us.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” Kozlowski said. “Please tell me you’re not actually stupid enough to believe that.”
“He could be telling the truth,” Finn said.
“No, he couldn’t. And you know it. So what the hell is going on?”
“He’s got a daughter.”
“And?” Kozlowski asked. “If we’ve got a policy of doing charity work for anyone with a kid, I missed that in our marketing materials.”
“She’s fourteen. Devon didn’t even know about her until last year. Her mother’s a fuckup; she dropped the girl off with Devon and ditched. Now he’s taking care of her. If he goes in, she gets put into the system. I’d like to prevent that if I can.”
“Jesus, Finn,” Lissa said. “You don’t even know this girl, do you?”
“No, but I know the system. I lived in it for fifteen years. It’s not a good place to be. If I can do something about it, I’d like to.”
Kozlowski shook his head in disbelief. “So much so that you want to do this without getting paid?”
Finn looked at him. “Yeah, if necessary. What’s the problem? You feeling poor? You’re making twice what you were when you left the department. You afraid you won’t be able to afford the summer clothing sale at Wal-Mart?” He glanced over at Lissa. “And I know you’re not worried about the money.”
“No, I’m not,” she admitted. “As long as we don’t make a habit out of it.”
“Good,” Finn said. “So we’re all on board? We’ll get him out on bail and do what we can do. We’ll treat it as a pro bono matter, and if by some miracle he actually pays us-”
“Not gonna happen,” Kozlowski said.
“Fine, but if it does, then it’s like a windfall. You could even take your share and buy yourself a new suit. Maybe something made of natural fibers. It won’t repel the rain the way rayon does, but you might like it anyways. So? Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Lissa said.
“Fine, but I don’t like it,” Kozlowski mumbled.
“I don’t know what you’re bitching about. This is gonna be a lot harder on me than anyone else,” Finn said.
“How so?”
Finn took a sip of his beer. “I told him I’d keep an eye on his daughter.”
Lissa shouted loud enough to draw stares from those around her in the stands. “You told him what?”
“You heard me. I’m taking his daughter for a few days.”
“Oh, this gets better and better,” Koz grunted.
“What did you want me to do?” Finn asked.
Lissa rolled her eyes. “It’s all making sense now. This is some kind of a fucked-up crusade for you, isn’t it? That’s why you want to take on the case. You think if you can keep her out of the system, it’ll make up for how messed up you were when you were her age? When are you gonna learn? You’re Devon ’s lawyer, not his family. It’s not your responsibility.”
“Of course it’s not my responsibility, but it’s a couple of days, tops. What’s the big deal?”
“Have you ever dealt with a fourteen-year-old girl?” Lissa asked.
“Not since I was fifteen. Millie Donnolly. God she was cute.”
“I was fourteen once,” Lissa said. “I’m telling you that this is a big fuckin’ mistake. Where is she now?”
“She’s at Devon ’s apartment. Devon’s girlfriend is there, but she’s headed back to Providence today. I told Devon I’d pick her up after the game. He said he didn’t have anyone else-he just got arrested last night.”
“It’s still a mistake to get involved with a client like this, Finn. You can represent them, but you can’t fix their lives.”
“I like to think of us as a full-service firm,” Finn replied.
“You like to think of yourself as a savior.”
“Right. Me and Jesus. Practically separated at birth. He had longer hair and a beard, of course, but-”
“And more patience. Trust me, you’ll find that out after a few days with a fourteen-year-old girl.” She took a long swig of her beer.
“After a few days or so, it’ll be over. We’ll get Devon out on bail, and we’ll see where the case goes. If we can’t cut a deal that keeps him out of jail long-term, he’ll find someone else to take the girl.”
“How do you know?”
“He gave me his word.”
Kozlowski sighed. “Great. Who could worry once you have the word of a man in prison?”
Boston had taken an eight-to-one lead by the seventh inning, and the game was turning ugly. The sun broke through the cloud cover in the eighth, and jackets and sweatshirts came off around Fenway Park. In the bleachers, a group of beefy twentysomethings stripped to the waist, revealing their bloated bellies, painted bright red and blue, each with a letter to spell out “RED SOX.” At one point the fourth young man in the chain was overcome by a morning of drinking and passed out in his seat, leaving his friends to advertise themselves as “RED OX.” In fairness, Finn thought, they did more resemble bulls than ballplayers.
Finn, Kozlowski, and Lissa stayed through the last pitch, as did nearly every other fan in the stadium. Then they all filed out of the park together, spilling into the melee surrounding Fenway. The entire area reeked of stale beer and fried meat. The front windows of the bars and cafés were open, and young men and women, fully inebriated at two-thirty in the afternoon, leaned out from the jambs, laughing and screaming.
Finn frowned as he dodged a young man on Rollerblades bebopping down the sidewalk, the paper bag ineffectively disguising the forty-ounce bottle of beer in his hand.
“I’m so fucking old,” Finn said.
“Yes,” Lissa agreed. “You are.”
“What’s that make me?” Kozlowski asked.
She laughed. “Sensitive, apparently. I try not to think about what it makes you.”