some final details on her insurance case.
On the way there, Kevin says, “Listen to this.” He then proceeds to flap his left arm against his body, much like a chicken. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” I ask.
“This.” He flaps his arm again.
“You’re flapping your arm like a chicken,” I point out, trying to be helpful. “So I guess I hear a flapping noise.”
“You don’t hear the clicking?” he asks, renewing the demonstration.
“I don’t think so. It’s more of a flapping. What’s wrong?”
“Rotator cuff.” He flaps his arm again. “It hurts like hell when I do this.”
“Is there a reason you need to do it?”
He doesn’t have time to answer, as we are just arriving at the courthouse. The press is out in full force, another reminder that this case will be as high-profile as they come. Public sentiment is going to be stacked against us; there is a natural inclination by people to believe that if the police charge someone, that person is almost certainly guilty. Add to that the fact that these are murders that scared and shocked the entire metropolitan area, and we’ll be lucky if a lynch mob isn’t formed.
Once inside, we are brought into an anteroom to see Daniel. I want Kevin to meet him and give me his assessment, since I’m still not wholeheartedly into this representation.
Cummings has regained some of his self-confidence since the last time I saw him. He shakes Kevin’s hand vigorously and welcomes him to the “team.” I see Kevin wince slightly and flap his arm a few times, probably making sure the rough handshake didn’t increase the clicking.
“The ‘team’ is what I want to talk to you about, Daniel,” I say. “As I’m sure you realize, I was originally retained by Vince to represent the newspaper—and only by extension, as one of its employees, you.”
He nods and waits for me to continue, so I do. “This is now an entirely different matter, and you are entitled to the counsel of your choice.”
He looks puzzled, as if trying to understand what I’m getting at. “Are you saying you don’t want to represent me?”
“Not at all. I’m saying you can have whoever you want.”
“Including you?”
I nod. “Including me.”
He smiles, leans over, and shakes Kevin’s hand again. “Then welcome to the team . . . officially.”
Now that we’ve got a team, it’s time for the coach to issue some pregame instructions. I tell Daniel that the arraignment is a formality, that the only time he will be asked to speak is to plead.
“I assume you want to plead not guilty?” I ask.
“Damn right,” he says.
I go over my rather healthy fee with Daniel, which he agrees to as if it is of no consequence. He says he will ask Vince to bring him his checkbook, so he can give me a retainer of two hundred thousand dollars. I make a mental note to find out just how much money he inherited from his murdered wife.
“I want you to make a list of everybody you’ve ever known who might have a grudge against you. Also, everybody you’ve ever known that you would consider capable of these kinds of murders.”
Daniel agrees to start thinking about these things, and Kevin and I go out to the courtroom. We are there before the prosecution, which is no surprise, since Tucker wouldn’t have it any other way. Just as the champion comes into the ring last for a title fight, so Tucker considers himself the titleholder for this court fight.
When the Great One finally enters, he sees me and comes over, his charming smile lighting up the room. “Andrew, good to see you,” Tucker says, bringing to a total of one the number of people who call me “Andrew.” My guess is, he believes addressing me by a name I don’t use will somehow get under my skin. It doesn’t, but I’ll get my revenge anyway.
“Nice to see you, Tucky my boy,” I say, watching his quick, involuntary grimace. “You know Kevin Randall?” He turns and shines the charm spotlight on Kevin, which relieves
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