Read Online Defender of the Innocent: The Casebook of Martin Ehrengraf by Lawrence Block - Free Book Online Page A

years in prison, Mr. Ehrengraf?”
    “Not with a proper defense. Tell me, Miss Mullane. Mrs. Protter accused her husband of having an affair with you. I wonder why she should have brought such an accusation.”
    “I’m sure I don’t know.”
    “Of course you’re a very attractive woman—”
    “Do you really think so, Mr. Ehrengraf?”
    “—and you live by yourself, and tongues will wag.”
    “I’m a respectable woman, Mr. Ehrengraf.”
    “I’m sure you are.”
    “And I would never have an affair with anyone who lived here in this building. Discretion, Mr. Ehrengraf, is very important to me.”
    “I sensed that, Miss Mullane.” The little lawyer got to his feet, walked to the window. The afternoon was warm, and the strains of Latin music drifted up through the open window from the street below.
    “Transistor radios,” Agnes Mullane said. “They carry them everywhere.”
    “So they do. When Mrs. Protter made that accusation, Miss Mullane, her husband denied it.”
    “Why, I should hope so!”
    “And he in turn accused her of carrying on with Mr. Gates. Have I said something funny, Miss Mullane?”
    Agnes Mullane managed to control her laughter. “Mr. Gates is an artist,” she said.
    “A painter, I’m told. Would that canvas be one of his?”
    “I’m afraid not. He paints abstracts. I prefer representational art myself, as you can see.”
    “And country music.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Nothing. You’re sure Mr. Gates was not having an affair with Mrs. Protter?”
    “Positive.” Her brow clouded for an instant, then cleared completely. “No,” she said, “Harry Gates would never have been involved with her. But what’s the point, Mr. Ehrengraf? Are you trying to establish a defense of justifiable homicide? The unwritten law and all that?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “Because I really don’t think it would work, do you?”
    “No,” said Ehrengraf, “I don’t suppose it would.”
    Miss Mullane leaned forward again, not to pour tea but with a similar effect. “It’s so noble of you,” she said, “donating your time for poor Mr. Protter.”
    “The court appointed me, Miss Mullane.”
    “Yes, but surely not all appointed attorneys work so hard on these cases, do they?”
    “Perhaps not.”
    “That’s what I thought.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “Nobility is an attractive quality in a man,” she said thoughtfully. “And I’ve always admired men who dress well, and who bear themselves elegantly.”
    Ehrengraf smiled. He was wearing a pale blue cashmere sport jacket over a Wedgwood blue shirt. His tie matched his jacket, with an intricate below-the-knot design in gold thread.
    “A lovely jacket,” Miss Mullane purred. She reached over, laid a hand on sleeve. “Cashmere,” she said. “I love the feel of cashmere.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And gray flannel slacks. What a fine fabric. Come with me, Mr. Ehrengraf. I’ll show you where to hang your things.”
    In the bedroom Miss Mullane paused to switch on the radio. Loretta Lynn was singing something about having been born a coal miner’s daughter.
    “My one weakness,” Miss Mullane said, “or should I say one of my two weaknesses, along with a weakness for well-dressed men of noble character. I hope you don’t mind country music, Mr. Ehrengraf?”
    “Not at all,” said Ehrengraf. “I find it soothing.”
     
    S everal days later, when Arnold Protter was released from jail, Ehrengraf was there to meet him. “I want to shake your hand,” he told him, extending his own. “You’re a free man now, Mr. Protter. I only regret I played no greater part in securing your freedom.”
    Protter pumped the lawyer’s hand enthusiastically. “Hey, listen,” he said, “you’re ace-high with me, Mr. Ehrengraf. You believed in me when nobody else did, including me myself. I’m just now trying to take all of this in. I tell you, I never would have dreamed Agnes Mullane killed my wife.”
    “It’s something neither of us