The Long Fall

by Daniel Quentin Steele

  “....you just like freaks...you crazy bitch....”

  One of them nudged the other and they quickly looked back at Debbie and Leary.

  “Oh, shit,” one said and they quickly walked away.

  Leary just looked at her and shook his head.

  “Get used to it, Boss. Courthouses are always little Peyton Places...everybody’s screwing everyone else or figuring out how to do it. Now that he’s free, he’s on the market and they’re going to go after him. Besides, you threw him back...”

  Monday, August 22, 2005 -- 1:15 P.M.

  “You knew she was in the peanut gallery watching you, didn’t you?”

  “When?”

  We were walking back into Pizarro’s courtroom and a lot of the pertinent players were already settling into position. I noticed a blonde with long hair and a fairly sedate neckline eyeballing me and Lew and recognized her from one of the television crews.

  “Debbie was in here?”

  “Yes, Gomer, she was in here. And while I think she’s always had a hidden lust for yours truly, I was able to check her out often enough to know she was checking you out. She was getting into you.”

  “Bullshit, Lew. Look, I know you’re trying to tease me, get me into a better mood, but she’s got less than any interest in me. You, you might be right about.”

  “You are so stupid, my friend. I told her that day in Landers’ office that you guys should be the poster children for marital dysfunction. You realize, I don’t think she ever saw you in action? It’s what you are, and all she saw was daddy and hubby. And that’s not you.”

  “Okay, she came down here. People always come down to watch a case like this, but she’s probably down here just hoping for me to slip on a banana peel. She sure as shit isn’t burning with lust for my middle-aged body.”

  “I’ll grant you that you’d have to be pretty desperate to lust after that old man’s body, but you haven’t noticed women looking at you before, during and after this trial? Nobody can be THAT oblivious.”

  I sat down at the prosecutor’s table and gestured for him to get to his corner.

  “I appreciate the ego building, Lew, but I’m not you. Women don’t look at me that way.”

  He just shook his head and said so softly that only Jessica Stephens walking up to me could have heard his words.

  “I love you, man, but you’re so unbelievably stupid that I sometimes wonder if you should be allowed to live.”

  Jessica’s eyes opened wide at his words but she didn’t say anything. After things got started again I tried to unobtrusively keep an eye on the spectator sections. Lew caught my looking a few times and just shook his head. She hadn’t come back. Not that it mattered.

  I kicked myself mentally. In a way, Lew was right. I was so stupid about women that I should have been neutered at birth so I didn’t pose the risk of passing on my genes to a future generation. I didn’t care that she had been down watching the trial. But it still bothered me that she hadn’t come back. Explain that? I sure as hell couldn’t.

  We continued skirmishing and Lew didn’t fall into any more Tiger traps. He was a hell of a lot more careful now. But we were getting ready to get into the meat of the trial and he and I were both watching each other the way gunfighters would walking out onto a western street. It was going to get real very shortly.

  I had just stood up after Pizarro asked me for my next witness and it was nearly 3 p.m.

  “Your honor, I’d like to introduce Sergeant Heather McDonald with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office as our next witness, but I expect her testimony will be lengthy and it’s vital to the state case. Could we call it a day?”

  When he called it quits, Lew walked over to me and we talked for a bit. Meagan Whitcomb, an attorney in private practice who had been one of our ASAs five years before walked over to the both of us. She was about 5-4, light brown hair, nothing exceptional but everything went together very well. And she was smart as a whip.

  She smiled at me then grinned at Lew and said, “Having any trouble getting around on those stumps, Lew?”

  He just smiled back.

  “Round one goes to the Angel of Death, Meagan, but this is a 10-rounder. I’ll wear him down and win in the end.”

  She grinned. God, she had a pair of dimples.

  “I could tell you really had him on the ropes today, Lew. Everybody was talking about the beating you gave him.”

  She couldn’t hold it in and broke out laughing.

  He just smiled and pretended to be embarrassed.

  “Alright, nobody loves you when you’re down and out and you’ve just had your ass kicked. Suck up to Maitland. But I’m coming back.”

  Then he turned to me and said, with a little smirk, “I’ll leave you to discuss the case with Meagan, Mr. Maitland. Just remember, no matter how....engrossed....you get in....talking...with her, you need to get to bed early....to sleep. You old guys need to husband your strength.”

  She didn’t even blush.

  “Bye, Lew.”

  When he walked away, the two of us were left standing looking at each other and I was wondering what to say.

  “Do you have dinner plans, Bill?”

  “Uh—not really. I was thinking about going back to the office to do a little prep for tomorrow. I....thought...you were engaged?”

  “I’m not asking you to go to a motel with me, just get something to eat.”

  She stared at me without a smile on her face. I know I was blushing.

  “I know, Meagan, I apologize. You’ve got to know my divorce just went through. I really don’t know how to be civilized dealing with women any more. It’s been awhile and I have heard some good things about how your practice is doing. If I haven’t stuck my foot so far down my throat that it can’t be extracted, I’d love to go out and have a salad or something with you.”

  She looked me up and down appraisingly.

  “A salad? Jesus, Bill, I’ve heard about how you’ve changed and I could see it for myself when I sat down in here, but you really have turned it around, haven’t you?...And by the way, I’m not engaged any more. If it makes a difference.”

  “It doesn’t, Meagan. I’ve missed those dimples of yours around the office. You always brightened things up.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, Bill. I’ve missed the kind of cases I worked on here. Property disputes and slip and falls and malpractice just aren’t the same.”

  “You did the right thing. Sometimes I wish I’d bailed out too.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Sometimes I do.”

  As we walked out the three television crews and four print reporters grabbed at me. I gave Meagan a look and she just shrugged and found a seat on a bench outside a courtroom while I did standups for the television crews and short interviews for the print types including Carl Cameron. Normally he wouldn’t have rated next to the big boys, but the Big Man was very sensitive to the coverage he got in his home media market so Carl would always get the interviews he wanted.

  The blonde with Courtroom Extra did an intro in which she told viewers that “The nationally watched case dubbed the Killer Granny, 67-year-old Judy Johansen, has received even more interest with the involvement of Lead Prosecutor William Maitland, better known recently as The Angel of Death.

  “He is facing off against young attorney Lewis Walters, who has received national attention in a number of high profile cases. Walters has been dubbed “The Shark” for his take-no-prisoners aggressive legal stance. Legal observers have called this showdown the equivalent of a heavyweight boxing match between legal heavyweights.

  “Mr. Maitland, do you understand the national attention being directed to this high profile murder case battle being waged by two prominent attorneys?”

  “Yes, I do understand it. People are always fascinated by crime and murder is the most fascinating of crimes. But, while I understand the fascination and the lure of this case for media such as yourselves, I want people
watching this broadcast to remember that this is not a television show, not a murder mystery movie. These are not fictional characters.

  “Clark Carroll, the victim in this case, was a living human being. His life was taken, stolen from him. He was an old man, but his life still had value and he had years of life ahead of him. The state is convinced, and will prove, that Judy Johansen took his life for her own selfish purposes.

  “As far as I’m concerned, the sport element of this is simply nonsense. I don’t care who gets the credit or takes the win. I want to make sure that an evil woman pays for her crime. I understand why you’re here and your interest in this case, but I simply don’t care.”

  I could be candid because the judge had already sequestered the jury and would keep them isolated until the trial was over, and everyone knew there was no way to keep everyone’s lips buttoned tight. We had been told we could comment as long as we didn’t give Lew grounds for seeking a mis-trial.

  When I’d finished, the blonde, Celestial Madonna (where the hell do they get those names?), just looked at me. Apparently the pulpish questions she’d been ready to hit me with stuck in her throat.

  “I...I...uh..thank you for your comments, Mr. Maitland.”

  She made a ‘kill it’ gesture to her camera man and he stopped filming. She talked to him for a moment, then turned back to me. There was a hint of ...anger...I couldn’t pin it down.

  She made a gesture, flinging her mane.

  “I thought your boss was interested in good PR. This is a fantastic story and that type of shit wasn’t the way to get people to come back for more interviews. The Angel of Death crap is a good hook, but you have to work it. You want to try again, be a little more media-friendly?”

  “No,” I said flatly, enjoying the expression that flashed across her beautiful features. She wasn’t used to being treated this way.

  “My boss is the media hound. I don’t give a shit, nor do I care about enhancing your ratings. As long as I win, my boss doesn’t care if I give you the finger or kiss your ass. And I intend to win. Not so he’ll get good PR, but so that callous bitch will see her death coming and know what the poor bastard she was married to felt like in his last moments.

  “Is that media friendly enough?”

  She looked at me hard for a moment, then I saw her expression change.

  “Jesus, you’re even meaner than your reputation. It isn’t an act, is it?”

  “All me, Celestial. By the way, that can’t possibly be your real name, can it?”

  She gave me a small smile.

  “Jane....Jane Thurman, from Pahokee, Florida. Actually, that interview will work. A really mean bastard will make a good foil for Walters. He’s smoother than duck shit, that’s an old Pahokee expression. I’ve covered him before. A hard nosed SOB will make a good contrast. You really think you’re going to win? You’re going to put her away?”

  I looked into her eyes and for a reason I couldn’t pin down, I deliberately let my eyes run up and down her pneumatic form before looking up into her eyes again.

  “If you stick around, Jane, you can see for yourself.”

  She flashed me an expression I couldn’t read, but I felt a little tingle run up and down my spine.

  Where had that come from? It didn’t even feel like the way I talked to women. I’d only been divorced for a few days. What was happening to me?

  It took me 45 minutes to get through all the interviews. I fully expected to look around and see that Meagan had vanished, but she walked up to me as I finished the last interview and said, “Look, you’re going to be tied up. How about meeting me about 6 p.m. at River City Brewing Company? We can catch up.”

  I went back to the office and went over strategy for the next day with Heather McDonald and finished up a phone call with Sheriff Knight about the stalled case of Shawn Smith who was still sitting behind a desk while his fellow cops came to a slow boil about my refusal to give him a clearance to go back to duty.

  As I was finishing up my duties, I thought about Meagan and those damned dimples. I began to remember some of the errant fantasies I’d had about her when she’d been around me every day. And NOW I was starting to get nervous about having dinner with her. When I was married, Debbie had been the armor that protected me from my own worst impulses. Now everything was on me. I felt very nervous.

  Monday, August 22, 2005 -- 4 P.M.

  “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to continue, Ms. Bascomb?”

  “I’ll be fine, Doctor. Let me visit your restroom for a minute.”

  She stepped into the small restroom and spit into the open toilet. And spit again. There was a terrible taste in her mouth. Bile and....something worse. It was crazy, but it almost had a....urine...smell. Where in the hell was it coming from. She cupped her hands and rinsed her mouth out. She took a Tums from her purse and chewed it up, then took another and started sucking it. The Evergreen flavor helped.

  When she returned to his couch and sat, he looked at her with a look of concern and said, “You say you’ve had these symptoms for more than a day? Have you-?”

  “Yes, I’ve taken a pregnancy test. That’s the first thing I thought of. And I’ve got an appointment with my gynecologist who’s also a good general physician as well. I don’t know what this is.”

  “It’s probably nothing, but stomach problems associated with pain and nausea could be symptoms of something serious. Please see your doctor without any undue delay.”

  “I will, Doctor Teller.”

  She leaned back against the couch and took a deep breath.

  “What would you like to talk about today?”

  “You know I’ve taken that administrative position with the Public Defender’s Office? Well, there’s a big, nationally publicized case beginning today, the ‘Killer Granny’ case with Bill on one side and Lew Walters on the other. Most of the attorneys who had some free time went down to watch and I went down too.”

  “I’ve heard of the case. I wasn’t aware that your ex was handling the prosecution side. And I believe that Walters was your husband’s divorce attorney. Must have led to conflicting emotions on your part?”

  She described what she’d seen.

  “And observing the way that other women were looking at your ex....it made you uncomfortable?”

  “Not uncomfortable. I understand that he’s a free man now and....he’s changed his appearance and the way he is....I see that...it’s just that....”

  He smiled at her and rubbed his chin.

  “Ms. Bascomb, it’s the oldest cliché in the world. We never want something so badly as when someone else wants it. It’s why men and women work so hard to make each other jealous.”

  He tapped his finger on the marble Rorschach inlaid coffee table as he leaned forward toward her, his eyes running down her body.

  “You are, as we both know, a very beautiful, very big breasted woman at what is really the height of your sexual appeal to men. Your husband, despite the fact that he has slimmed down and moves better and bald looks good on him, is still a fairly short, average-looking, middle-aged man.

  “You could have a different man in your bed every night without working at it, but it still bothers you that your not-so-attractive husband, whom you divorced - you divorced - is attracting the interest of other women. If he has sex with other women, which he certainly will unless he has a major sexual dysfunction...

  “Does he, by the way? Have a major sexual dysfunction? Was he able to have sex with you, to obtain climaxes on his part?”

  “Yes. That is, he was able to have sex. I got tired of him and bored with the way he made love, and I’m not sure he really got that much out of it at the end. It was pretty much, wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am if you know what I mean...but that could have been me...I wasn’t...but he seemed to enjoy it....”

  “Well, he appears to be rejuvenated by the divorce, so-“

  “So getting rid of my ass, as one of his friends told me, seems to have done him a lot of good?
He’s Mr. Perfect Victim and I’m the Wicked Witch of the West? Is that what you’re saying, Doctor?”

  He looked up at her in what appeared to be a little surprise and then a small smile flickered on his face.

  “Is that how you see yourself, Ms. Bascomb? I didn’t mean to make any reflection on you, just an observation that many men—and women—seemed to find new life and energy after a divorce. A stressful marriage can be hard on both parties and when that stress is removed, even with the attendant changes and often loneliness while new connections are being made, people do transform themselves.”

  “Well, the son of a bitch definitely has done that. Those miserable bitches were practically drooling. If they had been in bed with his flabby ass before....”

  She felt a wave of hot bile rising inside her and had to rush back to the bathroom.

  Teller leaned back in his chair and listened to the sounds from the bathroom. It didn’t appear the nausea was medical in nature, because it seemed her husband - ex-husband—had gone from enraging her to literally making her sick. He played with his unlit pipe, a nervous habit he didn’t worry about because it gave him something to do with his hands.

  Part of what she was feeling was undoubtedly buyer’s—or seller’s—remorse. She had decided that her marriage was boring, that her husband did not satisfy her sexual needs, and that she deserved more. In a perfect world, Bill Maitland would have remained crushed by her rejection, fat, flabby, unappealing to women, and suffering alone.

  She would have felt guilt and sorrow for her ex, but she would have been assured that she had done the right thing; that he could never have given her the happiness and satisfaction she wanted and deserved. Of course she was being self-centered and selfish about that, but hell, that was part of the definition of being human.

  But to find the man she had kicked out of her bed as unappealing and sexually unexciting transforming himself physically into almost literally a different person, to see him in his world as the man he had always been but had never shown her, and to see other women lusting after a man she said she didn’t want any longer....

  He had to retain his professional objectivity, and he couldn’t take sides because she was his patient and she was a person, not The Wicked Witch of the West, but he couldn’t deny a little twinge of enjoyment in the spectacle of a sex goddess burning with growing jealousy for a man she had dismissed as unworthy of her.