Tell No Lies Page 2

  "A pretty girl enters the room and your eyes light up, don't they?" Earl said.

  "No law against looking."

  "True. But there's been plenty to look at all night, and you hadn't blinked till now."

  Jack shrugged. "She's my friend, Earl." What more could he say? This evening was beginning to remind him a little too much of his days at Newman, when for a time his friendship with Jenny had been fodder for the office gossip mill.

  "Speaking of pretty girls, where's Claire?"

  "Home. We couldn't get a sitter; it's hard on a weeknight." He didn't add that they'd only started looking for one that night after Jack had called Claire from his car in a panic. "She sends her regrets." Jack's gaze followed Jenny as she joined a group of partners from Newman and ascended the escalator with them. He could feel Earl watching him.

  "Can I give you a little bit of advice, Jack?"

  Jack laughed. "You've never given me bad advice, so sure, go ahead."

  "You have to get that woman of yours out more. It's not good for her to be cooped up at home so much with the kids."

  Jack rolled his eyes. It was true that they'd started a family just after they were married, while still in law school, and the weight of that burden fell on Claire. But they'd both been infatuated with the idea, rationalizing that it would be better to have a child while still in school so Claire wouldn't be pregnant while interviewing or just starting a job. Michael was born late the following summer, after their second year of law school. Of course, once they had him, they couldn't wait to have another, so Claire ended up being pregnant anyway during her first year at Marshall & Hawes. She'd quit practicing after having several miscarriages, though, and shortly thereafter had landed the job at the law school teaching legal writing to first-year students. Jamie was born six years later. It had worked out well for her—she had a flexible schedule that allowed her to spend time with Michael, and later with Jamie—and it had worked out well for the school, as it was an untenured position.

  "She still teaches three days a week. With that and her volunteering at the kids' schools, she's probably busier than I am." Earl looked doubtful. "Anyway," Jack continued, "no offense, but I think if she had a night out she'd rather have a nice Italian dinner on The Hill."

  "I think I'd agree with her. I know the food would be better. Just take care of her, Jack. She's a good woman."

  "I know that." Jack grinned. "That's why I convinced her to marry me."

  Earl finished his drink in one swallow and set the glass on the bar. "Okay then, let's get upstairs."

  Once in the ballroom, they split up. Earl moved to the front of the room, and Jack joined a group of prosecutors at a large table. It was all he could do not to reveal to the rest of them what he knew; he suspected Earl wouldn't have told any of them before letting Jack know. He was a little disconcerted, though, that Earl hadn't broken the news before tonight. But after years of watching him in a courtroom, Jack knew this method was consistent with Earl's way of doing things. Unlike Jack, who approached the judges, juries and even witnesses in a quiet, if open, way, Earl preferred the power that came with catching people off guard.

  The dinner was slow, with numerous presentations and awards. Once Earl stood to speak, though, he mesmerized everyone with his commanding presence and dry sense of humor. Despite his small size, he filled the room.

  After he accepted his award, told a few war stories and made a funny rebuttal to some of the jests made about him, Earl suddenly became humble. When his words started to suggest the conclusion of his speech, but before he actually said, "I'll be leaving the District Attorney's office at the end of my term to join Clark and Cavanaugh," a comprehending hum settled over the room, and Earl had to fight against choking on his emotions. Jack had the urge to stand and tell everyone that it was all a big hoax. Wasn't that Earl the consummate joker?

  Instead, he sat with his arms crossed and watched Earl regain his composure as the hum gave way to applause and then organized chaos. If they'd planned on making any more announcements or speeches, the time had passed.

  Jenny approached Jack's table as dessert was served and ignored. After hugging and congratulating him again on his trial, she sat in the chair next to him, abandoned only a minute before by another lawyer. She pushed an empty glass away and set her drink in front of her.

  "Big news for you guys, huh?" she said to the group. To Jack: "You keep a good secret."

  He was about to defend himself, but Maria Catalona, one of the newer prosecutors in his office, spoke first. "We didn't know. This is news to us, too."

  Jack wasn't sure he would have been so forthright about their pre-announcement ignorance.

  "We're placing bets on who will succeed him," said Frank Mann. "Care to make a wager?"

  Jack suspected Frank was hedging bets on himself. He'd been at the DA's office longer than Jack, and Jack had heard through several sources that Frank was envious of Jack's close relationship with Earl. Frank probably viewed Earl's announcement as an opportunity to reassert his position in the office pecking order.

  "Come on, Dodson, who's your money on?" Frank urged.

  "Well . . . I don't know," Jenny said, pretending to think. "Let's see." She looked at Jack and nudged his arm with her elbow. "I think Jack would make a great District Attorney."

  Jack nudged her back. "Get out of here, Jenny. Go back to your stiff suits."

  "Yeah, like we didn't see that coming from a mile away," said Jerry Clark, another prosecutor.

  Jenny sipped her martini. Jack could tell she didn't like that they weren't taking her seriously, even though she hadn't meant to be serious, and that she was preparing her response.

  "I mean it. I'm not just saying that because we're friends, although that would be an added benefit, wouldn't it? If I ever got in trouble." She laughed, and the others laughed with her. "Really, though, Jack is perfect for the job." She paused, loading her ammunition. "There's no question he has the trial skills for the position, but what makes—"

  "Now, Dodson, how would you even know that?" Frank asked.

  "Well, Mr. Mann, I'm aware he wins many more cases than he loses."

  Jack's spirits dipped a bit; he'd thought he was the only one she referred to as "Mister" in quite that way.

  "I mean, just look at his most recent stellar performance." Jenny winked at Jack.

  "That he wins more than he loses doesn't mean anything," Frank snorted, "except maybe that he's smart enough to take a plea bargain on the difficult ones."

  Jenny ignored him. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted . . ." She cleared her throat, took another drink, and glared at Frank. "What makes him perfect, in addition to his trial skills, is his administrative aptitude. After all, what's the most important job the DA has? Setting policy, knowing which cases to make a priority, and knowing when to play and when to fold." She lifted her glass and finished off her drink. "Don't you all agree?" she asked the others. They mumbled the obligatory assent. She was at the edge of drunkenness, and it was apparent to everyone there.

  "Dodson, there's a gaping hole in your argument." Frank glanced at Jack and grinned at him, as if he thought they were teasing Jenny together. "Your friend's a dove. He even turned down the Barnard case."

  Jack felt all eyes turn cautiously in his direction. Everyone at the table, even Jenny, knew exactly which case Frank referred to, because in the past few days it had become impossible for St. Louis residents to turn on their televisions or radios and not hear about it. Cassia Barnard was a twelve-year-old girl who'd been kidnapped and brutally murdered months before, and the cops had finally made an arrest earlier in the week. Every seasoned prosecutor in the office had lobbied Earl for the assignment—the case had the potential to make an attorney's career—everyone except Jack. He knew there was a good chance Earl would seek the death penalty, and, for that reason alone, he didn't want it. It hadn't surprised him, though, when Earl offered it to him anyway. And it hadn't surprised Earl when Jack turned it down
. Frank was the lucky runner-up.

  Now everyone at the table looked at Jack with veiled pity, as if he hadn't played a part in his exclusion from the case.

  "Well, I agree with Jenny," Maria said brightly, trying to quell the awkwardness that followed Frank's comment. "I think he'd be a great boss."

  Brown nose, thought Jack.

  As if bolstered by Maria, Andy Rinehart spoke up. "Jenny, Mann's just arguing with you because he wants the job for himself."

  "Frank doesn't like to admit that we might prefer someone else," said Jeff McCarthy, one of Jack's closer friends in the office. They all laughed, except Frank and Jack.

  The alcohol was starting to have its effect on everyone now. Jack remembered what one of the litigators at Newman, one of the few he respected, told him when he'd first started there: "Loose lips sink ships," he liked to say. Jack could feel this boat starting to take on a lot of water.

  "I suspected as much," Jenny said, pleased they were beginning to come around.

  "Well, Jack's not interested," Jack said, hoping to cut them off.

  "Who's the hunk from your firm?" Maria asked Jenny, changing the subject because she was more interested in young men than office politics.

  "Who?"

  "The guy you were sitting with." Maria lowered her voice. "The one with the bedroom eyes."

  Jack turned to look. He recognized most of the other lawyers from Jenny's table, but he didn't recognize this guy. He was young, perhaps a new associate at Newman.

  Jenny laughed. "Oh, you mean Lance," she said, putting emphasis on his name, and then she shrugged her shoulders as if to say, What kind of name is that? "He's new. He thinks he wants to work in the bankruptcy department, so I've been assigned to be his mentor, whatever that means."

  Maria raised her eyebrows. "Lucky you."

  "The way he's been hanging on you all night, Dodson, it looks like he has more than mentoring on his mind," Frank said.

  Jack looked at Jenny to gauge her reaction to Frank's comment. She wouldn't date someone ten years her junior, would she?

  "No, thank you," she said. "He's a little too . . . how should I put this? . . . compulsive for me. He's the type of guy who would insist on putting a towel down during sex to protect the sheets."

  They all burst out laughing. Jack was a little embarrassed. He pitied the lawyer; he knew no one at the table would ever be able to talk to him without thinking of her comment.

  "I'll be back," Jenny said, holding up her empty glass to indicate where she was heading. Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her closer.

  "Cool it with Frank, will ya?" he whispered so the others wouldn't hear.

  "All in good fun, Jack. Not to worry." And then she said again, "I'll be back."

  After she left, Frank came to Jack's side of the table to say goodbye. He placed his hand on Jack's shoulder and leaned close to his ear. "She's crazy about you, Hilliard. Someone better warn Claire."

  Jack felt a blush rising. "It's a threesome, Frank, didn't you know?"

  Frank laughed appreciatively. "Well, as Maria says, lucky you."

  By the time Jenny returned from the bar, most of the lawyers at the table had scattered. Maria was still there, talking quietly to a woman from the Public Defender's office.

  Jenny snapped her fingers as she sat down to break Jack's reverie. "What are you thinking about?"

  Jack shrugged.

  "The next election?"

  "No." He waved to Maria as she and her friend left the table.

  "I don't believe you."

  "Jenny, why are you pushing this?"

  "Because you could do it, and you know it." Her voice was low but insistent. "Didn't you see the look on Mann's face when I said your name? He knows you could do it, too, and it kills him."

  In all the years Jack had worked in the DA's office, he had given only a passing thought to becoming the District Attorney. He'd always dismissed it, though, because Earl was so clearly that man. Jack had figured it would be at least ten years before Earl retired, before anyone would have to think about his successor. Anyway, as Frank had so bluntly pointed out, Jack—unlike most prosecutors in the state—was deeply opposed to the death penalty. It was an obstacle that wasn't going away.

  "I think I need another drink, too," he said.

  Jenny followed him to the bar. "You'd be the perfect man, Jack," she said, her voice a little boisterous from the martinis she'd been drinking.

  "You're crazy, Jen. And you're drunk."

  As he stood at the bar trying to get the bartender's attention, she leaned in closer.

  "You're only partly right. I'm drunk, but I'm not crazy." Jack smelled alcohol on her breath. It mixed with her perfume, a musky scent he'd noticed before. "Juries love you—your track record speaks to that. Earl would most definitely support you. What more could you ask for?"

  Jenny shrugged her shoulders, lifted her glass, and raised it in a mock toast.

  Jack laughed. "It's that easy, huh?" He put a tip down on the bar and turned away with his drink in hand. "Jen, you're forgetting something." He loved to prove her wrong; she was always so confident.

  "Yes, Mr. Hilliard?" She raised her eyebrows, grinning back. She knew what he was doing.

  "Would you vote for a prosecutor who didn't support the death penalty?"

  Her grin disappeared, and despite her contrary position in the countless arguments they'd had over the issue, she answered without hesitation. "If that prosecutor was you, of course I would."

  They stood for a moment, staring at each other. Jack instinctively reached up and moved a stray hair away from Jenny's face, but then remembered this wasn't Claire he was standing with. What was he doing?

  "Sorry," he whispered.

  Jenny pretended not to have noticed. "Jack, you're a good man," she said, still serious. "You do what's right, what's good. You wouldn't be swayed by politics or by friendships. You have a moral code you live by, and God knows that's a scarce quality among the attorneys in this town. You'd make an excellent DA." She paused and furrowed her brow in thought. Then she laughed. "Drunk or sober."

  Jack relaxed a bit, relieved that the smart-ass Jenny he knew had returned.

  Maria approached them as they moved away from the bar. "There's a bunch of us going to the club downstairs in a little bit. I'm passing the word."

  "Let's go. It sounds like fun," Jenny said.

  "No, I've gotta get home soon."

  She grunted in exasperation. "Come on, Jack. Your boss just made the biggest announcement of his career. He'll want to celebrate. You have a lot to celebrate, too. Don't be such a party pooper."

  Jack sighed. He always had trouble telling her no. "Only if he's going."

  They found Earl not far from the dais, as though he'd made the effort but hadn't been able to break loose from the lingering throngs wanting to talk to him.

  "So what's the report from the home front?" Earl asked. He smiled at Jenny.

  "Don't tell me you haven't spoken to anyone yet?" Jack eyed his boss warily.

  "Yes, I've spoken to some of them, but I want to know what they're saying when I'm not there."

  "It's all good, Earl, don't worry," Jack said.

  "Actually," Jenny piped up, "their biggest concern is who's going to succeed you."

  "Really?"

  Jack knew exactly where she was heading. He carefully moved closer to her, not wanting Earl to notice, and stepped on her toe. She let out a little "ouch" and glared at him. Earl looked at her curiously.

  "Just the typical talk, Earl," Jack said, trying to pretend he didn't know what Jenny's problem was. "They're wondering about their future, that's all. We came over"—he looked at Jenny—"to see if you're joining the group downstairs."

  "Yeah, I'll be down as soon as I can break away. You guys go on ahead."

  The club was already jammed. The Thursday night happy hour crowd had hung around even after the price of the drinks had gone up, and now lawyers from the banquet upstairs had joined them, too. The m
usic, some sort of '70s disco, was louder than it needed to be, and Jack wasn't sure he was in the mood to put up with it. He trailed reluctantly after Jenny, who'd worked her way through the mass of bodies to reach the bar. When the bartender turned his back to fix her drink, Jack laid into her.

  "Jenny, what are you doing? You need to slow down."

  "I'm thirsty." She tapped her fingers on the bar to the beat. She wouldn't look at him.

  "So have a glass of water."

  "Screw you, Jack. Can't I have a little fun? It's been a long time since I've had some fun. It's all work, work, work."

  But Jack suspected work wasn't what she was talking about. He assumed she referred to her ex-boyfriend. Alex Turner was an adjunct professor from the university where Claire worked; Jenny had met him years before at a summer party in Jack's backyard. After living with Alex for several years, she had recently left him.

  "You're going to catch a cab home, then," Jack said. "You're not driving."

  "Fine." She reached into the side pocket of her skirt and pulled out money to pay for her drink. "Anything. Just leave me alone about the drinking."

  Just then Earl came down, and Jack was relieved when Jenny found a lawyer from her firm to dance with, leaving him alone to shout over the music to some of the other prosecutors who had joined them. Earl didn't stay long, though; it was clear he was merely putting in an appearance for the sake of his loyal subordinates.

  The dance floor eventually thinned out, and Jack spied Jenny each time she made a trip to the other side of the bar. He smiled to himself; she probably thought she was being inconspicuous. But he knew she was keeping an eye on him, too, because when all the lawyers he'd been talking to finally left, she reappeared at his side.

  "Dance with me." She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him onto the dance floor.

  "You're spilling your drink." He reached for the glass in her other hand and took it away.

  "Come on," she begged. "Let's have some fun. I just wanna dance."

  "I'm not a good dancer, Jen," he protested. "I step on toes."

  She lifted her arms above her head and swung her hips to the beat of the music. Her eyes were closed and he knew she wasn't listening to him; the music had completely absorbed her. He watched her dance, a little embarrassed by her drunken display but drawn to it nevertheless. The camisole under her jacket had come untucked when she'd raised her arms, and he could see her flat stomach. Her hair, that luminous black hair that held such a tactile attraction for him, oscillated in waves behind her. Her movements were fluid, uninhibited. Like a stripper on the East Side, he thought. He glanced around the club to see how many other guys were thinking the same thing. His eyes met Andy Rinehart's. They both laughed a little and Andy waved his hand like a fan in front of his face. He had to get her out of there before she became the talk of the town.