It was two weeks into the trial, the morning of the second Friday.
“We’ve got to finish this thing,” Michael said. The delay in the start of the trial had created a time crunch. His vacation was supposed to start Monday and he had a late Saturday night to the Maldives for a two-week stay in paradise. Maggie had no idea who would be accompanying him on this trip and she hadn’t asked. She’d come to ignore what she couldn’t control.
“We can finish today, don’t you think?” she asked him.
“Yeah, we’ll question our last witnesses this morning. If we play it right, we could do closing before lunch. You and Stan can be on verdict watch, right?” he told them. “I’m going to be sunning my ass in the Indian Ocean.” Michael grinned in anticipation.
Whatever, Maggie thought, sighing. For her last vacation, she’d visited Casey in Rhode Island. She frowned. They had business at hand anyway. She settled in at the defense table and got ready.
Michael started with the clerk from the pharmacy. After asking the appropriate questions, he introduced the security video and the cash register receipt. Maggie risked a glance toward the prosecutor’s table and Rebecca, who had her head down. Maggie dreaded what would come next.
After Rance cross-examined the store clerk, the young man was dismissed and they called Rebecca back to the stand. Maggie took her through all the same questions she’d asked during the deposition. Then it was time to address the video footage.
“During your deposition, I asked if you had any idea where the traces of the spermicide, nonoxynol-9, came from. At the time you told me that you did not.” Maggie fixed her with a pointed look. “Do you have any ideas now?”
Rebecca’s answers had been low to begin with. Now she simply nodded.
“Ms. Savage, you have to speak your responses for the court reporter,” the judge instructed.
“I said, yes.” Her voice quivered.
Maggie stepped closer to the witness stand. “And what would those ideas be?” she asked quietly.
“I used birth control.”
“Did you use birth control because you believed there was a good chance you’d have sex with Jean-Luc LeRoi that night?” Maggie asked.
“Yes.” Humiliated tears rolled down her cheeks.
Maggie sighed. “Thank you, Rebecca.” She stalked back to the defense table and sank into her chair, feeling nausea in the pit of her stomach.
Rance asked a few questions on the cross-examination, but Maggie knew it didn’t matter. The damage was done. She couldn’t even focus as Michael took the jury through closing arguments. As he’d hoped, the case was handed over to the jury just before the lunch recess.
Michael, Maggie, and Stan lunched at Forlini’s. The men devoured their pasta while Maggie used her fork to push around the salad on her plate. Michael was giving instructions for when the jury returned their verdict.
“Now on the off chance it’s guilty,” he was saying, “we have all the paperwork ready for ling the appeal. You can just fill in the specifics.” He shook his head as he looked out over the dining room. “I just can’t see them coming back with guilty. Your evidence nailed it, Mags.” He grinned at her.
Their phones sounded simultaneously. The text message was from the Clerk of Courts: The jury is ready with a verdict. Maggie glanced at her watch. It had taken them less than three hours.
Michael beamed. “This day keeps getting better,” he said.
The judge entered, everyone was seated, and formalities were followed. The words not guilty rang in Maggie’s ears. There was a urry of activity as reporters informed their various media outlets. Jean-Luc was released. The jury was dismissed with the court’s thanks before the rest of the room was dismissed. While their client glad-handed Michael and his supporters, Maggie quietly packed up their things.
Outside the courtroom, she watched as Michael and Jean-Luc spoke to reporters. Michael, obviously, was in his element, and she smiled in spite of herself. He’s just irresistibly charming, she mused.
The Murphy, Rannigan crowd at Doc Watson’s was exuberant, maybe because of the win, maybe just because it was Friday night. Toasts were given and pints were consumed. Maggie sat slightly apart from the rest, quietly nursing a bourbon. Michael seemed happy but distracted. She imagined his mind was on his trip.
“What’s up, Maggie? We won the case,” Stan said.
Startled, she gave a forced smile. “Oh, you know, it’s just been a long day.” Her eyes met Michael’s at the other end of the table and he gave her a wink. She sipped grimly.
“Hey, Michael, are you watching the ball game tonight?” someone asked.
“Aw, I don’t know,” he said.
“Probably.”
“He’s waiting for some hot blonde to meet him so he can get laid,” Josh murmured to one of the guys from downstairs. Maggie pretended not to hear. “Congratulations, Maggie. Nicely handled.” She looked up in surprise. Rance Stockwell stood smiling at her. “I don’t mean to intrude on your celebration.”
Maggie grimaced. “I’m not sure it’s something to celebrate. This one was rough.”
Rance looked thoughtful for a moment. He reached into his pocket. “If you ever decide to leave the dark side, give me a call.” He handed her his business card.
Maggie smiled sadly. “Thanks.” She put the card in her purse as she watched him return to his own table.
She noticed that Michael kept checking his phone, occasionally frowning, before returning to the raucous conversation. It did seem odd that he was still here. He was usually long gone by now. She didn’t normally stay this long either. She was just in no mood to face an empty apartment feeling the way she did about the way the case went and her role in it.
Pretty sure I have some more drinking to do here, she thought grimly as she ordered another bourbon. Slowly the group dwindled as people began making their way back to their own lives, their own weekends. At one point, Maggie went to the ladies’ room and when she returned, she didn’t see Michael any longer.
Still not ready to go home, she moved to the bar where she found an empty stool at the far end and ordered yet another bourbon.
“Make it two.” She turned to find Michael standing behind her. “I thought you were gone,” she said.
“I had to see a man about a horse,” he grinned.
Maggie smiled, too. “Pull up a seat if you’re drinking,” she said.
Michael dragged a stool over and Maggie scooted hers as far against the wall as she could. “So what gives, Mags? You don’t seem glad we won the case.” She frowned, looking into the distance. “It was wrong. Maybe she thought she wanted to sleep with him and then she changed her mind. No means no. Every time.” She stared into her glass. “What we did, what I did... just victimized the victim all over again. That’s not who I want to be.” She downed her drink.
Michael was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s what we do. We defend people who get into trouble.” He watched her disdainful expression. “I know. Sometimes our clients are rat bastards.” Maggie laughed in spite of herself. “But they’re entitled to the best defense we can manage. Rat bastard status notwithstanding.”
“Rat bastard status notwithstanding,” she repeated. They sat without talking for a while, sipping thoughtfully. The bartender rang the bell to indicate the end of happy hour.
She turned to Michael. “Why are you still here? You usually leave long before now.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wasn’t ready to leave, I guess. What about you?”
“Just not ready to go home, I suppose. You’re leaving tomorrow anyway, right?”
Michael nodded. “Yep.” They sat quietly again.
“So how is it you’re alone tonight? No stunning blonde coming to whisk you off someplace?” She cringed inside. That was a stupid, drunk-ass thing to say.
He grinned again and looked at his hands. “I don’t know. Seems like everyone’s got something going on. I think Vivian’s busy packing for the trip.”
“Vivian...” she repeated, nodding. “Well, on the bright side, you’ll save a fortune on pink champagne while you’re in the Maldives.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
He chuckled lightly. “Yeah, there’s that. Do you want another drink?” he asked.
She grinned. “I would love another drink.”
“Good. Let’s have another.” He motioned to the bartender.
They spent the next hour and a half chatting over drinks about nothing in particular. They laughed as they recalled the incident with Hemphill and Standifer those years ago.
Who would ever have thought I’d laugh about that, Maggie reflected. She smiled at Michael affectionately. The conversation waned again and they sat companionably for a while.
“How about another round?”
Maggie shook her head. “I’m done,” she said. “I need to quit while I’m behind.”
“Yeah. I think I’m just going to go home and watch the game,” he said.
She smirked. “Baseball?”
“Baseball. My Yankees,” he grinned. Michael stared into his glass for a moment, then looked back at her. “Come with me.”