her as Finn picked up the stack of research she’d handed him. “She does good work,” he said to Kozlowski after a moment.
“I’m sure,” Kozlowski replied. “She’s still trouble you should stay away from.”
“I’ve got Linda; you know that.”
Kozlowski nodded skeptically. “You had her; I know that. Now I don’t know what either of you have.”
“She left because of the job, not because of me.”
Kozlowski raised his hands. “Don’t get me in the middle of this. I told you when I took this office, I don’t want to have anything to do with whatever happens between the two of you. She was my partner on the force for five years. You’ll never get me to take sides against her.”
“Who’s to say there are any sides to take? Last I knew, we were still together.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“She called last night,” Finn admitted.
“Did you pick up the phone and actually talk to her?”
Finn shook his head. “I thought about it, though.”
“You thought about it? Seriously? Sounds solid to me, then.”
“We’ll work it out.”
“Good. Until you figure out what’s going on with Flaherty, I’d still stay away from any office romances.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m not the one I’m worried about with Lissa.” Finn smiled at the detective maliciously.
Kozlowski laughed. “What is she, mid-twenties? I’m old enough to be her father.”
“She’s in her early thirties. You’re only old enough to be her perverted uncle.”
“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Besides, maybe what she’s looking for is a father figure.”
“If she was, I’m guessing she’d be searching for a good-looking banker who drives a big brand-new Mercedes, not some haggard old ex-cop who drives a ten-year-old Lincoln. I have no doubt I’m safe.”
Finn shrugged. “You never know, do you?”
Chapter Si x
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Honorable John B. Cavanaugh, at seventy-eight, suffered from a bad back and swollen joints in his knees that made it difficult for him to sit for extended periods of time. His condition had made his already prickly disposition nearly lethal on the bench, and whatever patience he’d had as a younger man was long used up. His thin six-footfour-inch frame had always been imposing, and the slight stoop in his shoulders accentuated the impression that he was continually looking down on the lawyers who appeared before him—an impression that was usually closer to reality than not.
At the moment he was directing his condescension toward Finn and Dobson as they sat at counsel table before him. It made Finn question whether his decision to take Salazar on as a client had been hasty.
“Gentlemen,” Cavanaugh said slowly, looking back and forth between Finn and Dobson on the one hand and Assistant District Attorney Albert Jackson on the other. Finn knew Jackson well from various criminal matters he’d handled, and liked him. He stood nearly six feet tall but was pushing three hundred pounds. Finn had often wondered whether his parents had been aware of Cosby’s cartoon when they’d chosen his name. Jackson bore the inevitable ribbing well, though, and he was one of the better attorneys in the DA’s office.
Cavanaugh cleared his throat before continuing. “I’ve read the briefs, but I’m willing to hear argument. Mr. Finn, it’s your motion; would you care to lead us into the abyss?”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Finn said, getting to his feet. “As you are aware, we are here today seeking an order requiring the district attorney’s office to turn over skin and blood samples taken from underneath Officer Madeline Steele’s fingernails on the evening she was attacked. We are confident that DNA testing of these samples will definitively show that our client was not the person who attacked Officer Steele.”
“Really, Mr. Finn? You’re confident?” Cavanaugh leaned forward in his chair. “On what is this confidence
“I’m sure,” Kozlowski replied. “She’s still trouble you should stay away from.”
“I’ve got Linda; you know that.”
Kozlowski nodded skeptically. “You had her; I know that. Now I don’t know what either of you have.”
“She left because of the job, not because of me.”
Kozlowski raised his hands. “Don’t get me in the middle of this. I told you when I took this office, I don’t want to have anything to do with whatever happens between the two of you. She was my partner on the force for five years. You’ll never get me to take sides against her.”
“Who’s to say there are any sides to take? Last I knew, we were still together.”
“When’s the last time you talked to her?”
“She called last night,” Finn admitted.
“Did you pick up the phone and actually talk to her?”
Finn shook his head. “I thought about it, though.”
“You thought about it? Seriously? Sounds solid to me, then.”
“We’ll work it out.”
“Good. Until you figure out what’s going on with Flaherty, I’d still stay away from any office romances.”
“Thanks for the advice, but I’m not the one I’m worried about with Lissa.” Finn smiled at the detective maliciously.
Kozlowski laughed. “What is she, mid-twenties? I’m old enough to be her father.”
“She’s in her early thirties. You’re only old enough to be her perverted uncle.”
“Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Besides, maybe what she’s looking for is a father figure.”
“If she was, I’m guessing she’d be searching for a good-looking banker who drives a big brand-new Mercedes, not some haggard old ex-cop who drives a ten-year-old Lincoln. I have no doubt I’m safe.”
Finn shrugged. “You never know, do you?”
Chapter Si x
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Honorable John B. Cavanaugh, at seventy-eight, suffered from a bad back and swollen joints in his knees that made it difficult for him to sit for extended periods of time. His condition had made his already prickly disposition nearly lethal on the bench, and whatever patience he’d had as a younger man was long used up. His thin six-footfour-inch frame had always been imposing, and the slight stoop in his shoulders accentuated the impression that he was continually looking down on the lawyers who appeared before him—an impression that was usually closer to reality than not.
At the moment he was directing his condescension toward Finn and Dobson as they sat at counsel table before him. It made Finn question whether his decision to take Salazar on as a client had been hasty.
“Gentlemen,” Cavanaugh said slowly, looking back and forth between Finn and Dobson on the one hand and Assistant District Attorney Albert Jackson on the other. Finn knew Jackson well from various criminal matters he’d handled, and liked him. He stood nearly six feet tall but was pushing three hundred pounds. Finn had often wondered whether his parents had been aware of Cosby’s cartoon when they’d chosen his name. Jackson bore the inevitable ribbing well, though, and he was one of the better attorneys in the DA’s office.
Cavanaugh cleared his throat before continuing. “I’ve read the briefs, but I’m willing to hear argument. Mr. Finn, it’s your motion; would you care to lead us into the abyss?”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Finn said, getting to his feet. “As you are aware, we are here today seeking an order requiring the district attorney’s office to turn over skin and blood samples taken from underneath Officer Madeline Steele’s fingernails on the evening she was attacked. We are confident that DNA testing of these samples will definitively show that our client was not the person who attacked Officer Steele.”
“Really, Mr. Finn? You’re confident?” Cavanaugh leaned forward in his chair. “On what is this confidence
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