Ben nodded. The fog was finally clearing. “That’s why you were appointed to represent him. No lawyer would voluntarily take this case.”
“That’s true,” Payne grudgingly admitted.
“And you thought you could buffalo Ben into relieving you,” Christina said. “Sorry, no luck.” She gestured toward the door. “Come on, Ben. Let’s get out of here.”
“Just a minute.” Ben fixed his gaze on Payne. “What else haven’t you told us?”
“Only details,” Payne said. “Nothing else bad. Honest.”
Ben frowned. “And you’ve been unable to find anyone to represent him?”
“Honest Injun, Ben. I’ve called every lawyer in Reeves County.”
“Ben, what is this?” Christina tugged at his sleeve. “Let’s leave.”
“I don’t think I can,” Ben said. “Apparently no one else will represent this kid. And every man has a right to competent counsel.”
“Ben, what are you saying? You aren’t seriously considering representing this racist pig, are you?”
“Personally, I find his politics reprehensible. But the Rules of Professional Conduct give attorneys a particular obligation to represent unpopular persons who have had difficulty obtaining counsel.”
“You’re going to take the case?”
“Someone has to do it.”
“Ben, this man is vile!”
“All the more reason to take the case, under the Rules.”
“He came to town with his squad of thugs looking for trouble. And he found it. End of story.”
“Aren’t you the one who was pushing me to take this case a few minutes ago?”
“Before I knew he was a fascist hatemonger, yes. Now I’ve changed my mind.”
“According to you, I need high-profile cases to build a reputation.”
“That’s right, Ben. While we’re at it, why don’t we line up some child molesters and presidential assassins?” She grabbed his arm. “Ben, don’t do this!”
“Sorry, Christina. You know I respect your opinion, but I’ve already made up my mind.” He turned back toward Payne. “I’ll take the case.”
“Then you’ll do it without me!” Christina pivoted on her heel and bolted toward the door at the end of the corridor.
“Christina!”
She slammed the door behind her.
Ben offered Payne a lopsided smile. “She’s very temperamental,” he said. “Redheads—you know how they are. I’m sure she’ll come around.”
“I’m just glad to have you on board,” Payne said. “We should be getting to the pretrial now.”
“Just a minute.” Ben grabbed the bars of Vick’s cell. “I’m willing to represent you, Donald, if that’s what you want.”
Vick didn’t even look up. “Suit yourself.”
“I guess that’ll do. I’ll consider myself retained. The pretrial is no great shakes. We’ll just tell the judge he’s not guilty and that we—”
“What?” Vick’s head jerked up sharply. He pushed himself off the cot and approached the bars. “Who said anything about pleading not guilty?”
Ben felt a cold chill run down his spine. He didn’t like having this kid so close to him. “Well, I just assumed. …”
“Don’t assume anything, city boy.”
“You must’ve pleaded not guilty at your arraignment.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“As your attorney, it’s my duty to seek an acquittal if—”
“It’s your duty to do what I tell you to do. I’m guilty, understand?”
Ben’s jaw dropped. “You’re—”
“You heard me,” Vick said. “Guilty. And I want you to tell the judge I’m guilty. Guilty as charged.”
4.
BEN FELT HIS HEART drop into the pit of his stomach. When would he learn to trust Christina’s instincts? “Are you saying you killed this man … Vuong?”
Vick looked away. “I’m saying I want you to plead me guilty. Got it?”
“That isn’t what I asked. And look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Vick obeyed, grudgingly.
“Did you kill him?” Ben asked.
“What do you care? I said I want you to plead me guilty. And that’s all I’m saying.”
“If you really killed Vuong and you want to plead guilty, that’s your business. But if you’re just saying this to be noble or because you’re having a bad day, that’s different.”
Vick turned and faced the back wall of his cell.
“Wait a minute.” Ben pressed his nose through the cell bars. “I have more questions to ask.”
The only response was a faint rippling of Vick’s shoulder blades.
“How can I represent you if you won’t talk to me?”
No change. Ben glared at Payne. “I don’t believe this. I want to know—”
“We can chat later.” Payne pointed to his watch. “We’re already five minutes late for the pretrial. Judge Tyler will be madder’n a wet hen.” Payne hustled Ben down the corridor.
“But—” Ben blinked uncomprehendingly as a closed door separated him from the cold shoulders of his new client. What had he gotten himself into?
Payne whisked Ben to the county courthouse on Main Street in less than five minutes. The courthouse looked like a sepia-toned image from a history book—an oversized white-and-red brick town center. It was easily the largest building in Silver Springs, and by far the most interesting architecturally. A cornerstone near the front door told Ben it had been constructed in 1892. Ben wondered how a town this size ever became the county seat. Must be a small county.
Two men were already in the judge’s chambers when Ben and Payne arrived. Ben assumed the man sitting behind the desk was the judge. He had a distinguished, rugged face and a closely cropped head of gray hair. The other man was considerably younger, close to Ben’s age. Ben would normally have assumed he was the district attorney. The only detail preventing that conclusion in this instance was that he was bouncing a baby on his knee.
“Watch this, Judge,” said the man. He smiled at the child, who appeared to be perhaps a year and a half old. “Sweetheart, what do doggies say?”
“Foof-foof,” came the reply.
“Exactly right,” the man said, applauding. The little girl beamed. “Okay, honey, what do ducks say?”
“Wack-wack.”
“Very good!” The man looked up. “She’s two for two.” He turned the girl around to face the judge. “Okay, here’s the tough one. Tell Judge Tyler what judges say.”
“Ovewooled.” She giggled happily.
“Well, I’ll be,” Judge Tyler replied. He reached across his desk and patted her on the head. “Amber, I believe you must be the smartest little girl in all of Reeves County.” The judge clapped enthusiastically. Amber turned red and hid her face in her hands.
Ben watched in amazement. What the heck kind of pretrial conference was this?
Payne stepped through the doorway and cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Judge. Are you ready for us now?”
“Of course we are, Mr. Payne. Come on in.” Judge Tyler gave Payne a big friendly smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Make yourself at home.”
Ben and Payne took the two available chairs. The judge’s chambers were, to put it kindly, intimate; to put it bluntly, minuscule—basically a closet tucked away behind the courtroom. There was enough room for a desk and four chairs and very little else. Ben and the man he assumed was the DA were shoulder to shoulder. The little girl began playing with the sleeve of Ben’s shirt.