Oolong.”
“Do you think those women loved him, Jesse? How else can you explain their refusal to prosecute him for fraud?”
“I don’t know anything about love,” answered Jesse quietly. “Maybe it was. I suppose it could have been something close to it, a mimic of love or an isotope. You’re asking the wrong person.”
Jesse looked away from his friends. All of them were married and most of them had children. All that Jesse had been able to manage had been a series of aimless affairs. He had been lucky in the war. He was ambulatory. His sight and hearing were intact. All that had been amputated was his ability to give or receive love.
“But the good Dr. Largo wasn’t the most interesting of all of my cases,” continued Jesse. “I can offer up the absurd tale of one Mohammed al-Farouk, formerly known as Willie B. Shipwright of the renowned Sunnydale Project Shipwrights. His street name was Keloid.
“Now, Keloid had four or five burglary priors and in his new case was charged with about fifteen counts of residential burglary. In other words, he was looking at forever in custody. They would be playing the Super Bowl on the moon by the time Keloid was released.
“Here was a real pro. Keloid literally left no stone unturned. If there was a stone, my man would turn it and leave a fingerprint. Fifteen burglaries and lo and behold, there are fifteen pristine sets of fingerprints. And all in the exact same location: the flush handle of the toilet. It seems Keloid had a thing about using the toilet in every house he burglarized. I guess the one at home didn’t work.
“Amazingly enough,” continued Jesse, “Keloid was out on bail. You know, these idiots never appreciate their dear, sweet little mothers. Mrs. Winnie B. Shipwright had to take out a second mortgage on the family home to get him back on the street. Well, on the day of the preliminary hearing, he waltzes in with his entire family in tow, and he’s dressed up like an honest-to-goodness college boy. I swear he came in wearing corduroys, a plaid shirt, a leather belt, and a pair of suede Hush Puppies.”
“Oo-wee,” sang Matt, “my man was smokin‘!”
“On his left wrist was a nice gold watch and he had on a pair of tinted sunglasses. ;Ay, gué guapo! It was truly a moment of sartorial splendor. I’ll never forget how proud his dear mother looked that morning before the hearing. Pobrecita.
“Well, the district attorney came into court and offered ten years in state prison to settle the case.”
“A gift,” said Newton.
The others nodded their heads in agreement. Given his fingerprints and his possible exposure—six years for each current burglary charge and five years more for each prior—it was more than a gift, it was manna from heaven.
“Of course, no one dressed like that is going to take ten years. His mother was aghast, fanning herself and screaming. ‘My dear little boy take ten years? You go tell that district attorney to forget them ten years! Lord Jesus, have mercy! Where is the justice? Where is the love?’
“I explained to Keloid that his exposure was immense—well over a century in prison—and that he could be out in five years if he accepted the latest offer, but he gracefully declined. ‘Fuck them ten years,’ he bellowed after making sure his sweet mother and his adoring family couldn’t hear. As a precaution I asked him if he had any proceeds from any of the burglaries on his person. With a truly wounded look on his face, Keloid said, ‘You think I done this, don’t you? Mr. Lawyer, just whose side is you on?’
“Well, the first witness to take the stand was the fingerprint expert, who placed Keloid in every one of those bathrooms and his hands on every one of those flush handles. I remember that Keloid turned to me and said, ‘It ain’t against the law to take a piss. They ain’t proved nothin’.”
The lawyers around the table heaved a sigh of sad familiarity.
“ ‘It’ll prove that you were
“Do you think those women loved him, Jesse? How else can you explain their refusal to prosecute him for fraud?”
“I don’t know anything about love,” answered Jesse quietly. “Maybe it was. I suppose it could have been something close to it, a mimic of love or an isotope. You’re asking the wrong person.”
Jesse looked away from his friends. All of them were married and most of them had children. All that Jesse had been able to manage had been a series of aimless affairs. He had been lucky in the war. He was ambulatory. His sight and hearing were intact. All that had been amputated was his ability to give or receive love.
“But the good Dr. Largo wasn’t the most interesting of all of my cases,” continued Jesse. “I can offer up the absurd tale of one Mohammed al-Farouk, formerly known as Willie B. Shipwright of the renowned Sunnydale Project Shipwrights. His street name was Keloid.
“Now, Keloid had four or five burglary priors and in his new case was charged with about fifteen counts of residential burglary. In other words, he was looking at forever in custody. They would be playing the Super Bowl on the moon by the time Keloid was released.
“Here was a real pro. Keloid literally left no stone unturned. If there was a stone, my man would turn it and leave a fingerprint. Fifteen burglaries and lo and behold, there are fifteen pristine sets of fingerprints. And all in the exact same location: the flush handle of the toilet. It seems Keloid had a thing about using the toilet in every house he burglarized. I guess the one at home didn’t work.
“Amazingly enough,” continued Jesse, “Keloid was out on bail. You know, these idiots never appreciate their dear, sweet little mothers. Mrs. Winnie B. Shipwright had to take out a second mortgage on the family home to get him back on the street. Well, on the day of the preliminary hearing, he waltzes in with his entire family in tow, and he’s dressed up like an honest-to-goodness college boy. I swear he came in wearing corduroys, a plaid shirt, a leather belt, and a pair of suede Hush Puppies.”
“Oo-wee,” sang Matt, “my man was smokin‘!”
“On his left wrist was a nice gold watch and he had on a pair of tinted sunglasses. ;Ay, gué guapo! It was truly a moment of sartorial splendor. I’ll never forget how proud his dear mother looked that morning before the hearing. Pobrecita.
“Well, the district attorney came into court and offered ten years in state prison to settle the case.”
“A gift,” said Newton.
The others nodded their heads in agreement. Given his fingerprints and his possible exposure—six years for each current burglary charge and five years more for each prior—it was more than a gift, it was manna from heaven.
“Of course, no one dressed like that is going to take ten years. His mother was aghast, fanning herself and screaming. ‘My dear little boy take ten years? You go tell that district attorney to forget them ten years! Lord Jesus, have mercy! Where is the justice? Where is the love?’
“I explained to Keloid that his exposure was immense—well over a century in prison—and that he could be out in five years if he accepted the latest offer, but he gracefully declined. ‘Fuck them ten years,’ he bellowed after making sure his sweet mother and his adoring family couldn’t hear. As a precaution I asked him if he had any proceeds from any of the burglaries on his person. With a truly wounded look on his face, Keloid said, ‘You think I done this, don’t you? Mr. Lawyer, just whose side is you on?’
“Well, the first witness to take the stand was the fingerprint expert, who placed Keloid in every one of those bathrooms and his hands on every one of those flush handles. I remember that Keloid turned to me and said, ‘It ain’t against the law to take a piss. They ain’t proved nothin’.”
The lawyers around the table heaved a sigh of sad familiarity.
“ ‘It’ll prove that you were
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