“We won this case in spite of you. If I had taken the stand, as you suggested, I’d be feeling like Brume over there-waiting for my death sentence. Goodbye, Jimmy. And don’t ever show up in my courtroom again.”
Jimmy knew Clay didn’t mean it. Once he got back on the bench, he’d get a hankering for old Jimmy’s satchels of cash and everything would be forgotten. For now, though, without even going near his remaining client, Jimmy headed for the courthouse steps and his afternoon press conference, where he explained to all who would listen how he had achieved Clay Evans’s release. Nobody asked about Wesley Brume.
Late that afternoon, after closing arguments and less than an hour’s deliberation, the jury came back with a guilty verdict against Wesley Brume. And the next day, in the sentencing phase of the trial, they recommended a life sentence without parole, which the judge approved. They would have given him the death penalty, but Jack had made something clear in his discussions with them.
“Rudy and I discussed this many times,” he told them. “And we agreed that the death penalty has been arbitrarily applied in this country and we also agreed that the criminal justice system is too flawed to have a death penalty-just look what happened to Rudy. Therefore, I know Rudy would want me to ask you to give Wesley Brume the sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole instead of death.”
And they had agreed to his-to Rudy’s-request.
When it was all over, Judge Stanton just looked at Jack and nodded. Jack read the message in that nod. By declaring a mistrial and cleaning up the record, he had ensured a solid case against Wesley Brume. Brume could appeal from now until Doomsday and he wouldn’t get anywhere. As for Clay Evans, that case had always been a long shot. At least Stanton had let him put on his entire case, and he’d had a chance to show a fairly wide audience just what kind of man Clay Evans was. He’d wanted to finish the job, of course, to wring Evans’s slimy neck with a well-fashioned legal rope, but the law hadn’t let him. Jack had a real problem with the law that had let Evans wriggle away, but not with the judge. His friend Harley’s assessment had been only partially correct: Harry Stanton was never reversed on appeal because he worked as hard as the lawyers to make things get done right.
Jack didn’t leave the courtroom that day when everyone else did. He needed to be alone for a while longer. Mikey had told him so many years before that one day he was going to do a great thing and that it would be about the both of them. And now all he could think was how he’d failed to save Rudy and he’d failed to convict Clay Evans. But he’d given his heart and his soul-and he would have given his life.
What was it that Mikey had said so long ago? “And when it’s over-because you’ll finish it, whatever it is, you finish everything you start-I want you to remember this day and what I told you.”
This case was over but it wasn’t finished. In a way, it was just beginning.
He picked up his papers, pushed his chair in at the table, and turned to walk out of the courtroom. He knew he’d be back.
EPILOGUE
Jack and Pat finally told everyone that they were going to get married. It was two weeks after the trial. They were in Joaquin’s room at the hospital. Joaquin had just received clearance from his doctor to go home, and he was awaiting his wheelchair escort. Dick was there with them and everybody was in a lighthearted mood.
“Why don’t we get married together?” It was Maria who made the suggestion. “I mean, we all kind of fell in love together.”
Pat liked the idea. “We could do it at the ranch and we could invite Steve and his family-including his sister.” Everybody looked at Dick.
“Okay, okay, I’ve been seeing Steve’s sister. But I won’t be joining you at the altar,” Dick told them. “I should tell you all that you will be getting married at my house. I made Steve an offer and he has verbally accepted it, which is good enough for me. I’ll be a lot happier over here.”
“Are you going to stand up for me?” Joaquin asked.
“Who else would?” Dick replied.
“I’d like you both to stand up for me,” Jack said.
Pat looked at Maria. “Would you stand up for me, Maria?”
“Of course, Pat, but I have to have my daughter as my maid of honor. Otherwise I’d ask you.”
“I understand. Then it’s all settled. When do you want to do it?”
“I’ll need at least a month to recuperate,” Joaquin said, a twinkle coming into his eyes. “With Maria’s help, of course.”
“Don’t be fresh or I’ll get a sixty-year-old nurse to take care of you,” Maria said and they all burst out laughing. “I’ll get with you, Pat, about timing.”
Six weeks later, there was a small group in attendance, including Steve’s sister-a pretty, pleasant woman in her mid-forties-when Jack and Pat, and then Joaquin and Maria, pledged their love to each other. Afterwards, they had a little reception at the house.
“I’m glad I rented this place to you,” Steve said to Jack, clinking his champagne glass. “I thought I’d have to eat it Now I’ve got a buyer and it still might stay in the family.” They both laughed. What a wonderful day, Jack thought. What wonderful people.
Six months after that wonderful day, Clay Evans stopped at his favorite coffee shop near his home in a rural section of Homestead, a suburb of Miami, to get a cup to go as he did every morning. As he exited the building, someone said they heard what sounded like a firecracker going off. It came from the woods across the road. Clay Evans was killed instandly by the bullet, which pierced his skull and shattered his brain. The bullet came from an unregistered rifle and the police had absolutely no clues as to the perpetrator, although some were sure the shot had to have been fired by a sniper.
The case was eventually put in a pile of unsolved murders. It was the same fate of the case of four murdered men found on a back road in Cobb County.
A few weeks after the trial was over, in the early morning before sunrise, Jack and Pat and Nancy’s father, Jim, went out on the river in Jack’s little outboard. They had two little urns containing the ashes of Nancy and Rudy. A few miles down the river, Jack made a right turn out of the busy traffic into a narrow canal bordered on both sides by thick mangroves and tall pines. He motored a ways down the canal and cut the motor. They sat in the dark for several minutes listening to the crickets drone and the frogs croak. As the sun started to rise, everything turned silent. Jack nodded to Jim and Pat, who placed the urns together, leaned them out over the water and slowly turned them so that the ashes intermingled as they fell. When they were finished, they all sat there silently, enjoying the tranquillity until the voices of the morning broke through. Birds appeared on shore and overhead, and Jack was about to start the outboard when something happened that none of them would ever forget. Two ospreys took off from atop the tall pines and circled the little canal twice, side by side. Then they hovered high above the little boat and flapped their wings before flying off.
After a few minutes, Jack started the boat and headed down the canal. Pat turned from the sights on the shoreline to look at him. He had a smile on his face and tears in his eyes, and he was mumbling something.
“What?” Pat asked gently.
Jack almost couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m sure now,” he told her.
“Sure about what?”
“That I can tell Mikey I’ll remember. I’ll always remember.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-aadb64-7415-994c-80a1-27c1-33c9-baa66b
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Document creation date: 23.05.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.29, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
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The Mayor of Lexington Avenue jt-1 Page 39
