Read Online Dante's Poison by Lynne Raimondo - Free Book Online

to remember. Of course, if there is a connection, Jane’s smart enough not to tell me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œAn attorney can’t ethically advance a claim they know to be false. It’s why criminal lawyers go to great lengths to avoid asking their clients if they’re guilty. Jane understands that better than anybody. If she’s not telling me the truth, it’s to protect me.”
    I was beginning to catch on to the problem. “Hallie, is this your roundabout way of telling me you think Jane might be guilty?”
    She sighed. “I never ask that question about a client. Right now, all I have is a suspicion, and I want it to stay that way. But the whole thing worries me, along with how I’m ever going to get her out of jail. My old office decided it was a conflict for anyone there to try Jane, so I’m dealing with the bastards up in Lake County. I offered them five mil plus home detention, but they wouldn’t even consider it. Bjorn’s already hitting the streets—”
    â€œBjorn?”
    â€œMy new investigator. But it’s not likely he’ll find anything before the hearing. Right now, the only tangible evidence linking Jane to the crime is the eyewitness. I need to shut down her testimony fast, and I’ll never be able to find a better expert in time. Will you do it?”
    â€œIf you don’t think my credibility will be questioned.”
    â€œI know it’s ironic, but just let them try to make something of it. And the one good thing that’s happened is that the Assistant State’s Attorney they’re sending down to the hearing is a total newbie. He’ll never know how to deal with you.”

It’s sometimes said that there are two types of psychiatrists: those who have experienced a patient’s suicide, and those who will someday. Ira Levin had just joined the first and more-populous group, and he was clearly still smarting over it.
    â€œNo, I didn’t write Rosemary’s Baby ,” he said, giving me a jittery handshake, “and no, I didn’t have reason to think Danny Carpenter was a suicide risk.” Explaining the former, he told us that he’d been named after his maternal grandfather, who’d passed shortly before he was born. Under Jewish tradition, this freed up his grandfather’s name for future generations and, being a fan of the book, Levin’s dad couldn’t resist.
    â€œYour father must have had a sense of humor,” Rusty said.
    â€œHe had to,” Levin replied. “He was a pathologist for Cook County.”
    It was Wednesday noon, and we were gathered at Rusty’s offices on Hubbard Street, in a Victorian building that once housed the Chicago Criminal Courts and was studded with history. Leopold and Loeb had been tried there, along with Shoeless Joe Jackson, and its fourth-floor pressroom had been the hangout of such literary lions as Carl Sandburg and Sherwood Anderson. This no doubt explained the building’s appeal to Rusty, whose shop occupied the top floor and included, among other amenities, a mock courtroom and a half basketball court. I wondered which one got more use. Our conference room had towering windows and a table that could have accommodated the National Security Council, in addition to a groaning board of sandwiches and soft drinks. After being steered there by Rusty, I randomly picked out one of each and slid into one of the Aeron chairs arranged around the table, stowing my cane on the floor. Rusty followed me, taking the seat to my right.
    â€œSo you grew up locally?” Rusty asked Levin, who was still hovering somewhere near the door. “Please, sit down. And have something to eat.”
    â€œOn the Northwest Side,” Levin said, selecting some lunch items and sinking into a chair opposite us. “It’s where most families like ours ended up.” He launched into a brief history of the sixties and seventies