Page 139 of The Devil's Advocate

There was no hostility from Gus. But there was no welcome either. He could barely look in our direction, and from the expression on his face it wasn’t out of any malice toward us. The local media had reported Judge Chandler dismissing the case against Andy Dubois. Judge Chandler was a first-class asshole, no doubt, but the fact that he had apologized to Andy went a long way to changing minds in the community.

They no longer thought he was a killer. But men like Gus would not apologize. He was burning with the shame of it, and that was too much for him to deal with.

We took a table by the window, with four chairs.

I ordered pancakes and coffee from the waitress. Harry the same.

‘I’m starting to like this town,’ said Harry.

‘You want to move here? Be my guest. It’s about time you retired properly.’

‘I’m not going to retire. Not yet. There’s more work to be done in this town, but I think they can figure it out on their own.’

The chimes above the door rang out, Bloch and Kate came in and joined us at the table. A waitress who looked familiar came over with a flask of coffee and four cups. Sandy poured the coffee and asked Bloch and Kate what they would like.

‘Did you get those expenses we talked about?’ I asked.

‘Yes, thank you. It means a lot,’ said Sandy.

Berlin had authorized me five hundred grand for Andy’s bail, and thrown in fifty grand for Sandy.

The newspapers were full of the news of the trial, the death of the governor at the hands of Sheriff Shipley, and the suicide of Randal Korn. He had been found in his cell, dead. The department of corrections made a statement to say that Korn had hidden a leather brace about his person, and that he had been found with the item tight around his throat. He had strangled himself sometime yesterday afternoon.

I had a pretty good idea what time.

Of the five hundred grand Berlin had authorized for Andy’s bail, we had only withdrawn one hundred twenty-five thousand, and lodged it in the bail office, after we’d made it look like the full five hundred.

That left three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars in that account, which I’d arranged to be transferred last night. Bloch had made the arrangements. The money went to a charity that funded appeals for death-row inmates. A nice lady named Jane was the vice chair. The first case on their list was a posthumous appeal in the case of Darius Robinson.

We ate mostly in silence, and then left the diner. The coffee and pancakes were heavenly.

We drove over to the courthouse, met Andy and Patricia. They both looked nervous.

‘I thought the case was over, Eddie,’ said Patricia.

‘It is, there’s just some paperwork to clear up,’ I said.

We went into the court office, and Harry spoke with the bail office clerk. He came back with two pieces of paper in his hand.

‘The bail clerk says she got a call from the bank,’ said Harry. ‘It seems when she deposited the five hundred thousand-dollar cash bail, they only counted one hundred and twenty-five thousand.’

‘That’s strange. The bail office must have made a mistake to lose more than three hundred grand,’ said Kate.

‘That’s what I told her,’ said Harry, brandishing one of the pieces of paper. ‘Because we have a receipt for five hundred thousand.’

‘True,’ said Bloch.

‘What’s the other piece of paper?’ I asked.

‘Her phone number. She likes me. She’s already spoken to the judge and given him my view on the missing money. I told her the late district attorney, Randal Korn, had enough money to blackmail jurors and that he could’ve taken Andy’s bail money from the safe in the court office. The judge is writing-off the three hundred seventy-five, saying it was probably stolen by Korn.’

‘Let’s go to the bank,’ I said.

We drove over to the bank, parked and went inside.

I went up to the teller with Patricia and Andy and said, ‘These kind folks would like to open a joint account in the names of Dubois.’

The teller took their details, all the while Patricia giving me a quizzical look. She didn’t know what was going on.