The Last Straw

Chapter Two

Chapter TwoPaul Elliott stretched and tumbled out of bed, shaved and showered, had a quick bowl of cereal, and was off to work inside forty-five minutes. Thirty minutes later he was behind his desk in his office digging through an avalanche of mail in his in-box when his phone rang. It was the judge's bailiff. The muscles in Paul's stomach tightened. The jury had reached a verdict. He looked at his watch: 9:20 a.m. This was some kind of record. The jury had just gotten the case at 3:30 p.m. the day before, an hour before retiring for the day. As his large law firm's first black partner, he was still a little self-conscious about the need to maintain his excellent won/lost record. Deep inside he knew that this feeling was entirely self-imposed, but that did little to banish it from his psyche.

Paul was at the courthouse in fifteen minutes. Waiting for the elevator, he spied Benjamin Yanders, a neighbor from his apartment building, and followed him into the elevator behind a throng of other people. Yanders was looking down at his shoes and inside the packed elevator Paul couldn't make eye contact with him. Before he knew it, the elevator had reached his floor and Paul was getting out. He glanced over his shoulder and when he saw his neighbor exiting with a few other people, he stopped and waited for him.

Yanders was tall and thin and an old lower back injury caused him to stoop forward a little when he stood for a while or walked long distances. He had a full head of dark, closely cropped hair that was peppered with gray and he had crowded, bushy eyebrows. His dark brown face was more lined and haggard than Paul remembered from the last time he saw him only a few days earlier.

“You practicing law now, Ben?” Paul joked as Yanders approached.

He was looking right past Paul and hadn't recognized him, so the sound of his name startled him a little. “Oh, Paul … Sorry, I didn't see you.”

“No problem,” Paul said. “What's up?”

“Sandy got a subpoena. I'm down here to see the assistant State's Attorney,” Yanders said, more than a little dejected.

For the first time Paul noticed Yanders's daughter Sandra. He hadn't seen her when she got on the elevator or when she got off. Now she was standing a few feet behind her father. Studious and shy, she was a cute sixteen-year-old. As an only child, she looked upon Paul as an older brother and he treated her like a younger sister. He wondered what the State's Attorney's interest was in her and why Yanders hadn't mentioned the subpoena before now. “Hi, Sandy. How are you?” he said.

“Hi, Paul. I'm okay, I guess,” she said, glancing at him when she answered and then looking away.

Paul checked his watch. “The State's Attorney's office is around the corner. I'm going that way. I'll walk with you.”

Yanders didn't respond, but the three of them started down the hallway together. After a few paces Paul said, “So, Ben, you want to tell me what's going on?”

Yanders stopped. He had the look of a man who had just come from the funeral of his best friend. “Sandy witnessed a shooting. The guy died,” he said morosely. “They want her to testify against the killer.”

Paul didn't try to mask his shock. “My goodness. That's horrible.” He looked over at Sandy. She was out of earshot and still looking away. “How is she?”

“I think she's holding up better than I am.”

“How's Danielle taking it?” She was Sandy's mother and Ben's soon to be ex-wife.

“She's out of the country. I don't have her itinerary and her cell is turned off.”

“Okay. That's not the most important thing right now. So, talk to me.”

Yanders took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you're wondering why I didn't call you, but I didn't want to impose and—”

“Ben, you know me better than that.”

“Yeah, I know. With everything that's been going on with Danielle and me, I guess I've been a little overwhelmed – haven't been thinking straight. I'm glad I bumped into you.” He was nervous. He paused and took in another lungful of air and let it out.

Paul wanted to hear what had happened, but he had to get to the courtroom soon. “So, fill me in, Ben. What happened?”

“There was a carjacking. This young kid shot the driver. Maybe the guy resisted or maybe the kid panicked. Maybe it was cold blood. I don't know. Sandy was coming around the corner and the kid must not have seen her, but she got a good look at him – unfortunately. He pushed the guy out of the car and drove off like a bat out of hell. She used her cell to call 911. She was with some of her friends, but since she was way ahead of everyone else, she was the only one who saw it.”

“I think I read something about that in the paper,” Paul said. “Hell of a shame, all the way around.”

By now they were in front of the courtroom. Paul peeked inside. The opposing counsel was there with his client. Paul was representing a doctor who had a heavy surgery schedule and Paul had told him he didn't have to be present for the verdict. Indeed, he hadn't been there since the opening statements, something Paul had prepared the jury to expect during jury selection. It cut both ways. No matter how well Paul explained the reason for the doctor's absence, some jurors might be offended or view his absence as a sign of indifference or worse, callousness. But he hoped they would interpret his absence as confidence and devotion to his other patients, which was the impression Paul tried to leave with them.

Paul turned to Sandy. “Are you holding up okay?”

She returned his gaze and didn't look away this time. “I'm all right. A little scared, though.”

“I would be, too,” Paul said. “But just a little, like you. Listen, everything's going to be fine, okay?”

She nodded timidly. Paul smiled at her and extended his fist. She extended hers and they did a fist bump. He then turned his attention to Ben, whose face continued to wear the same worried look. “Ben, what's the State's Attorney's name?”

“Mitchell Tolliver. Do you know him?”

“I do,” Paul said. “I'll call him and see what I can find out. Then I'll stop by this afternoon – if that's okay.”

“Okay? That would be great,” Yanders beamed, smiling for the first time since his daughter told him about witnessing the hijacking. They shook hands and Paul went into the courtroom.

Rico decided to let Jean sleep a little longer. He was anxious to get started, but he didn't want to leave before she woke up. She had been a mess when he got there the night before. Both sides of her face were swollen and raw and her left eye was partially closed. Her ears were ringing, her head was pounding and spinning at the same time, and she couldn't stand for more than a few seconds without feeling faint. She had some leftover Vicodin in her medicine cabinet from a recent dental appointment, and he gave her two tablets for the pain. He also continued the warm compresses Gabriel Koblentz had started until she fell asleep two hours after he got there.

He had made it to Jean's apartment twenty minutes after Koblentz called. She hadn't been able to talk very much, but she gave him the gist of what had happened and he knew where to start.

Looking at her now from a chair across the room, Rico found it more difficult than usual to keep his emotions in check. And it was harder now than it had been when he first got there the night before and saw her lying on the living room floor, her head cradled in the old man's arms and her face almost completely covered by the bathroom towels. Keeping vigil from his chair, he had hardly slept, which gave him plenty of time to think and to grow angrier with each passing moment. You would never know it by looking at him, though. What emotions he had he hid well. He always did.

Jean stirred and he went to the bed and sat beside her. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” It was painful to talk and her voice was just above a whisper.

“Doesn't surprise me.”

“Me either, but my jaws still hurt like hell. Ditto my head and my eye.”

Rico stood and ambled to the bathroom medicine cabinet. He returned moments later with more Vicodin and a glass of water. “Take these,” he said, handing her two pills and the water.

“Thanks,” she said and promptly swallowed the pills and washed them down with the water. Grateful, she looked at him and smiled a little through the pain.

“Gotta go,” he said abruptly and stood.

“Right this minute?” Her eyes implored him to stay a little longer.

“You know what they say. The early bird catches the worm.”

She didn't bother to ask where he was going. She knew. “Be careful,” was all she said.