At a minimum, it was enough for Duncan to go back to Blake with, tell him he needed to keep working the case for a while, at least through the motion to suppress. Duncan hadn’t realized how much he’d already come to want to stay on it. Part of it was that everybody went to law school wanting to be Perry Mason. Then there was the undeniable fact that a murder case was much more exciting than what he spent most of his time doing. But there was also the sense that he was actually accomplishing something here, getting a result for his client that another lawyer—one with fewer resources, one who was going through the motions—wouldn’t have gotten.
Plus he’d almost blown it. If he hadn’t pushed back against Blake, if he’d worried only about finding some character witness in aid of a plea, if he hadn’t gone to see Cole, Duncan wouldn’t have discovered the weakness in the DA’s forensic evidence. He’d almost allowed himself not to do the work, to take a gigantic shortcut he wouldn’t have dreamed of taking with a paying client, and as a result he’d almost missed his first break in the case. Duncan felt like he’d betrayed the lawyer’s version of the Hippocratic oath: to leave no stone unturned in advancing your client’s side. He had Rafael’s life in his hands—his actual life—and he’d almost let himself be talked into doing less than everything there was to do. In Duncan’s eyes, that wasn’t just a mistake; it was a professional sin.
Duncan e-mailed Blake from his BlackBerry as he walked through crowded Midtown streets back to his office, asking for a few minutes of his time when available. He didn’t get an immediate reply, which wasn’t unusual: getting hold of Blake during business hours generally ranged somewhere between difficult and impossible.
Back at his office, Duncan turned to the libel suit against the Journal. The case was a little neglected, nobody at the firm having much enthusiasm for it, the unspoken agreement being that it couldn’t be won. Duncan’s next task was seeking to uncover Candace’s confidential source. He wasn’t entirely sure why: doing so probably wouldn’t help their case. It would be very helpful if the source repudiated the article, or admitted to lying to the reporter, or had some obvious reason to be bad-mouthing the Aurora. But those were unlikely, and if the source turned out to be someone credible who stood by what Candace had written, then uncovering that person would make winning virtually impossible. The paper didn’t have to prove the truth of what they’d printed, only that they hadn’t done so with actual malice, and a credible source would provide them with that cover.
Duncan had raised all this, but Blake simply replied that the client wanted them to uncover the source. There weren’t that many likely suspects—the information had almost certainly come from an insider in the investigation. The logical assumption was that someone at the DOB had talked in frustration after Durant declined to refer it to the DA’s office.
Duncan was finalizing a half dozen deposition subpoenas of the people he considered the most likely. He wanted to prioritize the potential culprits, so he decided to issue the first subpoena to William Stanton, the investigator who’d been in charge of the DOB’s probe of the Aurora accident. If anybody was likely to have felt burned by the decision to shut down the investigation it was Stanton.
It was almost eight when Blake finally summoned Duncan to his office. “So I met with Dr. Cole today,” Duncan said as he sat down.
Blake frowned slightly. “Who’s that?”
“The forensics guy,” Duncan said. “About the gunshot residue.”
“Did you get closure, or whatever you were looking for?”
“Cole thinks we’ve got a real shot at tossing the GSR.”
Blake started to say something, but caught himself and leaned back in his chair, looking away from Duncan. “Even so,” he said after a moment. “They’d still have what, an eyewitness, motive.”
“I just don’t know if he did it,” Duncan couldn’t resist saying.
Blake gave him a puzzled look, as if Duncan had just asked him the meaning of life. “Is somebody asking you to know?”
“I understand our focus has been on leveraging a deal, and I understand why, but if he’s actually innocent shouldn’t our focus be on that?”
Blake’s annoyance won out. “Jesus, what, you’ve discovered your calling all of a sudden? I let you keep this guy because I could tell you felt sorry for the jam he was in, and I was pretty sure we’d get him a better deal than some public defender. I wasn’t looking for you to go searching for the Holy Grail.”
“I’m just following the case where it’s taking me,” Duncan protested, unsure why Blake was reacting this way. “Like I would any other. You want me to take the first halfway decent deal I can get for him, even if I think we can maybe take the state’s case apart?”
“Yes,” Blake said without hesitation. Duncan looked at him, suspecting he was being fucked with. But Blake’s expression did not support that theory.
“But, Steven, I can’t just … I mean, I’m his lawyer.”
“And if you had something real—an alibi, a way to get rid of the eyewitness—something that really said he didn’t do it—then I’d say go to the wall. But all you’ve got is that the DA thinks they’ve got your guy three different ways and you think they’ve only got him two. It doesn’t mean the rest of their case isn’t solid. Besides, you’ve got a lot on your plate here. You know how much our bill to Roth was, just last month? Almost half a million. You know how much of that was you?”
Duncan wasn’t comfortable with Blake’s sudden shift of direction. “I spent most of my time on their cases.”
“Twenty percent. Leah Roth is inviting you to parties, going on walks with you in her old man’s yard, for Christ’s sake. Having someone like that in your corner when your partnership vote comes up—I don’t need to explain that, do I? One of the firm’s anchor clients wants you to be a partner here, then you’re a lock. Last time I checked, that was what you wanted, right?”
“Of course,” Duncan said quickly. Blake had never directly raised partnership like this with him before.
“We play a team sport around here, and I need you on the team. Clear?”
Duncan cleared his throat before he trusted himself to speak. “As a bell,” he said.
DUNCAN WAS trying to figure out just how bad this was. He understood what his marching orders were, but he wasn’t sure he could follow them. He’d been asked to do a couple of ethically questionable things in the course of his legal career (as had every other firm lawyer he knew), but this was the first time he was being asked not to put his client’s interests first. It felt like crossing a different sort of line.
But then again, it wasn’t like Blake was asking him to take a dive on the case. Most criminal cases ended with a guilty plea, after all. Blake was just trying to make sure he kept his eye on the ball, that he should take what he had and go to the DA and see where they were.
Much as he wanted to believe it, Duncan wasn’t sure that was true. He needed a second opinion, somebody who knew Blake but who wasn’t involved in the murder case.
Duncan walked down to Lily’s office. They’d been through the wars together, and he trusted that he could talk to her about such things.
Lily was in her office, some obscure trip-hop playing on her Bose iPod dock as she typed away on her computer. “Can I interrupt?” Duncan asked.
“You just did,” Lily replied, but she leaned back in her chair, giving Duncan permission.
He closed her door and sat down. Duncan knew the broad outline would be enough for Lily to get the picture. It took him only a couple of minutes to get her up to speed. “So what do you think?” Duncan asked once he was finished.
Lily hadn’t looked at him while he was talking, which was typical for her when concentrating. Now she looked over, twisting up one side of her mouth. “You sound pretty fucked,” Lily said.
Not exactly what Duncan wanted to hear, though he wasn’t sure how serious she was being. “I hear what Blake’s telling me. But I have a job to do. I don’t romanticize being a lawyer�
�God, I hope I don’t—but I do believe in it. I mean, it’s something more than just being a whore in a suit.”
“First I’m hearing of it.”
Duncan ignored Lily’s reflexive sarcasm. “Loyalty. To our clients. That’s the difference. You say you’re somebody’s lawyer, that means something. You fight for them, even when you know full fucking well that they don’t deserve to win. That’s the job, right? I don’t do that, I don’t follow through for Rafael because it’s a pro bono case and I’ve got work to do—then what am I?”
“I have no idea what you can live with,” Lily said. “But Blake’s telling you to cut bait. If you really think that goes against your client’s interest, then you’re basically fucked.”
“But if I figure out a way to really win it, don’t you think Blake will come around?”
“Maybe what he’s telling you is it was good for the firm to help this guy out when he first got indicted and his name was in the paper, but it’s not good for the firm to take the case to trial.”
Duncan had wondered if it could be something like that. He hoped that wasn’t it, because that would mean the firm was putting its own interests above those of its client. While he didn’t think himself naive about the fundamentally mercenary nature of his employer, he wasn’t willing to accept that they would take it that far. “You really think the Blake would do that?”
Lily shrugged. “We don’t have a sight line on all the angles here.”
“So what would you do if it was you?”
Lily looked uncomfortable with the question. “Play out the string as long as you can. Get the best possible deal for your guy—it’s obviously up to the client whether to take it or not. At the end of the day he’s a nonpaying client who’s going to be in your life for one case. You and me, the Blake babies—you know what partnership here brings.”
“Don’t question, follow orders, that’s your advice?”
Lily shrugged. “That’s why they call it work.”
18
DUNCAN TOOK Leah to Jean Georges, a serious contender for the title of the city’s best restaurant. It wasn’t his normal idea of a first-date place—if this was, in fact, a date. But he figured Leah was used to the finer things, and he felt obligated to take her to the nicest place he could get a table at, although he wasn’t able to get a reservation until nine forty-five.
“Tell me,” Leah said as they were seated, “do you always eat dinner so late?”
“Best I could do,” Duncan replied.
“Did you have trouble getting a reservation? You should have told me; I could’ve taken care of it.”
Duncan didn’t know whether Leah was once again being purposely provocative or simply condescending. He decided that by now he had license to ask. “Was that deliberate?”
“Was what deliberate?” Leah said innocently, though Duncan wasn’t buying it.
“Your putting me in my place.”
Leah tilted her head, but with the ghost of a smile. “I did no such thing.”
“So it wasn’t deliberate?”
“My point was simply that you should avail yourself of whatever shortcuts I could provide.”
Duncan smiled, though he knew his patience for this would quickly wear thin. “Hey, I’m a modern man,” he said. “You want to make any future dinner reservations that the two of us may need, by all means be my guest.”
“I’ve offended you again, haven’t I?”
“I’m a lawyer,” Duncan said. “People say mean things to me all the time.”
“And yet here I am, constantly on your wrong side,” Leah said. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Do you have siblings?”
“I have a half sister and brother, but nobody full.”
“Are you close to them?”
Duncan was uncomfortable with the topic, but not inclined to lie. “Not really, to be honest.”
“Are they still in Michigan?”
Duncan nodded, a little surprised that Leah remembered where he was from.
“You ever go back?”
“Not really,” Duncan said with a shrug. “Christmas maybe.”
“Never thought of returning to your home state after law school?” Candace asked. “They must need lawyers in Michigan.”
“I’m sure they do,” Duncan said. “But they don’t need me.”
“Too small-time for you?” Leah said with a smile.
“I doubt that surprises you.”
“Some people like where they’re from.”
“Sure,” Duncan said. “Though they don’t tend to be people from Michigan.”
The waiter brought them their first course, fluke with a frozen wasabi sauce that unleashed its flavor as it melted. The restaurant ran like clockwork, the service flawless yet unobtrusive. It’d taken Duncan about five years of living an expensive life in New York to get used to places like this; he assumed Leah took them for granted.
“Family is important, of course,” Leah said. “But there are times when I would love nothing more than to be on the other side of the country from mine. What do you think of my brother?”
“I don’t know him,” Duncan replied, relieved that he didn’t, since it wasn’t a question he would be inclined to answer. “I’ve only met him the one time at your office.”
“Jeremy is very weak,” Leah said gravely. She was looking closely at Duncan. “It gives me no pleasure to admit that, but it’s impossible to deny. The truth is, that’s probably the real reason my father came around on my joining the business. At some point he realized my brother wasn’t going to have what it takes to run it, at least not without a lot of help.”
Duncan was surprised that Leah was confiding in him about this, but tried not to show it. “Weak how?”
“My brother’s a prisoner of his appetites. He’s got no control over them. He’s been that way since we were growing up. Sometimes I think I’m as much his parent as his sister.”
“Does it interfere with his work?” Duncan asked, probing for why Leah was telling him.
“It interferes with everything, unfortunately. But I do what I have to do. As you probably realize, my family is Roth Properties. What’s bad for our family is bad for the company, and vice versa. So protecting my brother from himself isn’t just about protecting him; it’s about protecting everything we have.”
Duncan wasn’t sure if this was a personal or professional confession. “I understand.”
“Do you?” Leah asked, and in the look she gave him Duncan realized that he wasn’t at all sure he did.
“I think so,” Duncan said. One waiter removed their empty plates as another poured them more wine. Duncan leaned back, muttering thanks to the waiters while waiting for them to leave. Was Leah saying that her brother needed his help? Was he in some kind of legal jam she was trying to work her way up to discussing? “Is there something specific?” he asked Leah once they were alone again.
“Not just now,” Leah said dismissively. Whatever she’d been getting at, she clearly didn’t want to articulate it more than she already had. “So what’s going on with your murder? You still think it’s going to plead out quickly?”
Duncan was getting used to Leah’s abrupt changes of subject. “I’m not sure,” he said, instinctively not forthcoming when talking about a case with someone other than the client.
“What’s changed?”
“We’re challenging the forensics. It’s not enough to win the case for us, but obviously it could weaken it.”
“Are you challenging the science just to be doing something, or are you challenging it because there’s something wrong with it?”
Duncan was surprised by Leah’s interest in the murder, but then again he supposed everybody found such cases interesting, at least on some level. “It’s for real. It doesn’t exonerate my guy, but it’s something.”
“You seem like you’re enjoying it,” Leah said, leaning back as a waiter put another course, this one some elaborate duck confit, before them, Duncan only hal
f listening as the waiter detailed what he was serving them.
“Honestly?” Duncan said, before digging in. “It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done as a lawyer. But I suppose I enjoy that aspect of it.”
“Fear’s the great motivator, after all.”
“Indeed,” Duncan said. “It either blankets you like a fog or it charges you up. Me it charges.”
Leah was again giving him her openly evaluating look, though this time it seemed more clearly tinged with approval. “So, Duncan,” she asked, “are you ever going to get comfortable with me?”
Duncan smiled, meeting her calm gaze. “How do you know this isn’t my version of comfortable?”
“Is it because I’m a client, or because I’m rich?”
“Is both an option?” Duncan said.
“I hope it’s not because of my tendency to be blunt.”
“If we’re being serious, it’s mainly about your being a client. I’m not used to socializing with my clients.”
“Blake socializes with my father.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Why?” Leah said, smiling at him, but with some challenge in her look. “Because I’m a girl and you’re a boy?”
The fact that he’d half expected this conversation didn’t make having it any more comfortable. “What do you want me to say?”
“I’m aware that you’re a boy. I assume you’re aware that I’m a girl.”
“Do you want me to be aware that you’re a girl?”
“Now you’re just trying to get me to do your work for you,” Leah said.
Duncan offered a smile and a mock salute; any ambiguity as to whether they were on a date pretty much dissipated. “Blake might not be too happy if he knew we were having dinner,” he said.
“Why would he care?”
“I can think of a few different reasons,” Duncan said. “None of which does it strike me as wise to articulate.”
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