Gus turned back to the still-amused face of Judge Maull. “So, your honor, what do you think? You ready to swear me in just yet?”
Maull chuckled. “You are excused for cause, Mr. Oliver. With our thanks and, I might add, my compliments on your powers of observation. Please, sir, report back to Central Jury. And, under punishment of contempt of court, do not discuss any aspect of what has transpired here with anyone. Am I understood?”
Gus stood and reached for his folded copy of Newsday.
“Perfectly, Judge. Couldn’t be clearer.”
Later, sitting on a hard-backed bench in Central Jury, Gus again tossed down the newspaper and sighed.
“World can’t get much crazier than right now,” he said softly.
“And why is that, Mr. Oliver?” he heard. Looking up, he saw Andrew Saks standing beside him. He smiled up at the lawyer.
“Well now, Mr. Saks, I just read that baseball fella, Willie Mays, has signed a new contract with the Giants. Eighty-five thousand dollars, it was. For playin’ a game every young boy in the country is playing for free.” He shook his head. “It’ll never get any crazier than that.”
Saks glanced around nervously. “Mr. Oliver, may I ask a favor? I’d like to speak to you. Privately. As you can imagine, Central Jury is the last place a lawyer on trial is supposed to be. The clerk is a friend, he allowed me in, but I must leave immediately.” He handed Gus his card. “Please, call me. Perhaps we can set up a meeting, at your convenience and at a location of your choosing. But I’m afraid I must ask that it be soon, quite soon.” He leaned downward, lowering his voice. “A woman’s life may well depend on it,” he said.
Gus glanced at the card, then raised his eyes back to Saks’s.
“Well then, guess I don’t have much choice,” he said. “I’ll call you later this evening. How’s five-thirty sound?”
It was six o’clock the following evening. Gus sat at a rear table in The Green Lantern Tavern on Central Islin’s Main Street. Sitting across the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth was Andrew Saks.
“I guess you’re accustomed to more fancy eating than this, Mr. Saks,” Gus said. “As for me, this is my favorite place. Food’s simple and cheap, but very good. I hope you’ll like it.”
“May I call you Gus?” Saks asked. “And I’m Andrew.”
“Sure, Andrew.”
Saks nodded. “Good. And as for The Green Lantern, I grew up in East Patchogue on the South Shore. Real blue-collar town. My dad worked a charter fishing boat for thirty-five years, my mother was a housewife. I think you may have the wrong impression of me.”
Mabel Taylor, owner-operator of The Green Lantern, approached the table, a large serving tray in hand. Balancing the tray on the table’s edge, she placed two sirloins, baked potatoes, and tossed green salads before them.
“Enjoy it, gentlemen,” she said. “More beers?”
Both said yes, and she hurried off to get their drinks. They seasoned their meals and arranged their napkins. After Mabel had left them a second time, Gus, cutting into his steak, spoke casually to Saks.
“Well, Andrew, maybe I have misjudged you. Didn’t know you came from humble beginnings. I figured you for a New York City hot-shot transplant.”
“Nope. Born and raised right on Long Island. Been practicing law here since day one.”
“So,” Gus went on. “What can I do for you? Who is this woman whose life you fear for?”
“She’s a client of mine. Her name is Lily O’Rourke. Are you familiar with the name? It’s been in the papers.”
Gus thought for a moment. “No, it’s not ringing a bell.”
Saks put his utensils down and patted at his lips with the white linen napkin. He cleared his throat before going on.
“Gus, you’re aware of the kind of practice I have — I make quite a good living.” Here he smiled. “Nearly as good as Willie Mays, and I’m not the greatest center fielder in baseball. But here’s something you may not know: I often do pro bono work. Are you familiar with the term?”
“Sure. You take on cases for free.”
“Exactly. When I believe in a defendant’s innocence and I know they can’t afford me. Especially when there are other considerations.”
“Such as?” Gus asked.
“Such as societal pressures — prejudices or preconceived police notions.”
“Is this O’Rourke some kinda victim here, Andrew? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes. She’s a victim of her own past. Lily is fifty-nine years old. O’Rourke is her maiden name. In nineteen twenty-seven, she was known as Lily Cosenza. She was married to Big Dominick Cosenza, a low-level gangster and owner of a speakeasy called The Alimony Prison. Ever hear of it? It was in New York City, Greenwich Village, specifically.”
Gus shook his head. “No, can’t say as I have. Back in those days I was just a young kid doin’ a three-year hitch in the Navy. I did my drinking legal, all over Europe, not in some New York speakeasy.”
“Lily had some shady days back then. In fact, she was the madam of a brothel her husband ran at The Alimony Prison. When Prohibition ended, Mr. Cosenza branched out into other rackets. In nineteen fifty-two, he crossed the wrong man and was shot to death. Lily’s life has been — shall we call it — colorful. Then a couple of years ago, she moved out to the town of Shirley, about fifteen miles east of here. She bought a small cabin and has been making do with local work: supermarkets, clothing stores, things like that. In fact, that’s how I came to be involved. She once worked at a dress shop my wife frequented, and they became somewhat friendly. When Lily was arrested, my wife had me go see her, and after I did, every bit of my experience told me she was innocent. She’s been around, remember: She knows you never lie to your lawyer. Not if you want to win at trial anyway.”
Gus considered it, cutting more steak. Then he raised his eyes to Saks’s. “Unless, of course, she figures she’s better off with you representing her under a false impression than some kid from the public defender’s office with the truth. And, maybe she figures you’d only take the case pro bono if you figured her innocent.” Gus took some steak, chewing it slowly. “You ever consider that angle?”
Saks’s face was impassive, and Gus couldn’t tell for certain, but he strongly suspected that the lawyer had not, in fact, considered it.
After the briefest moment, Saks replied. “Yes. I have, and I’m still convinced she’s not responsible for this murder.”
Gus nodded but remained silent. After a few seconds, Saks leaned closer to Gus, his voice intent as he spoke.
“Lily’s certainly been no angel. God only knows what she’s done in the past. And the police are aware of that. But now she’s all alone in the world, just growing old, barely making ends meet. The police are blinded by her history. I’m telling you, Gus, she’s not guilty. Private investigators, particularly the ones I generally use, are expensive. Lily can’t afford them. I’m willing to do my part with free legal representation, and I’ll even agree to pay you for your time if we can come to a reasonable fee. I know what you’ve done in the recent past, Gus. Two wrongly accused people freed by your efforts, and two murderers brought to justice.” Saks paused, picking up his knife and fork once more. “Will you take a look, Gus? That’s all I’m asking.”