Chapter 13

Given the note Tuesday's court session had ended on, Morgan started Wednesday off attacking the prosecution's theory as to her client's motive for killing his partner. The firm's accountant read figures from financial statements: some from before Carpelli joined the firm, and some more recent, showing the sizeable difference in incoming revenue Carpelli's skill as financial expert had made. He also testified to the financial soundness of their business. On cross-examination by McCoy, he could not account for the one million dollars Carpelli had alleged was in his possession.

When court broke for lunch, Carmichael left quickly to attend to another case. McCoy was preparing to leave for a lunch alone, when he noticed Morgan was still at her table reorganizing files, and that Fairchild was nowhere to be seen.

"Not having lunch with your client today, Counselor?" he asked.

"He had some business to take care of."

"Would you like to have lunch together? There's a good place a few blocks from here, close enough to walk. I believe it's my turn to buy."

"Thanks, but I brought my lunch." At his disappointed look she added, "I was thinking of finding a bench somewhere in the sun. If you want to pick something up, you could join me."

"Okay. I'll grab a sandwich and meet you in a few minutes."

He didn't have any trouble finding her once he had his food. "Is this seat taken?" he asked, referring to the newspaper she had spread out beside her.

Morgan looked up from her reading. "Not anymore," she smiled, folding the paper quickly and sliding a bowl of pasta closer to her on the bench, allowing him room to sit and place his drink between them.

As McCoy unwrapped his sandwich, she said, "My accountant almost single-handedly destroyed your motive theory this morning." She pushed a plastic bag of red grapes toward him, her eyes sparkling.

Pulling off a grape, he popped it into his mouth. "Thanks. For the grapes, I mean," he added with a smile. "As for the trial, I think all those facts and figures confused the jury. I think all they got out of it is that there are big bucks in the architectural business. It may even have helped my motive."

"I've been doing this a long time. I think the jury got the right message."

"I've been doing this longer, and I think your wrong."

Morgan smiled and shook her head slowly. "I guess things look differently from your side of the courtroom."

He finished one half of his sandwich and helped himself to another grape before starting on the other. "Not that I want to rush you, but how long do you intend to tie up the court trying to win this hopeless trial for your client?"

"That depends on you. I could convince the jury of my client's innocence in a couple of days, if I didn't have to deal with all the prosecution's totally irrelevant questions."

"Well if it's depending on me, maybe I'll have to think up some more totally irrelevant questions." At her puzzled look, he added, "I told you, I'm not trying to rush you."

"Be that as it may, I'd say you can expect to give your closing statement by the end of next week, give or take a day. We lose half a day next Thursday."

He nodded. "For Judge Rivera's speech. I think he's speaking at one of the colleges."

"He is, at N.Y.U. Ann told me. She's planning on attending."

She watched as McCoy finished his sandwich and took a few more grapes. "I can't finish my salad. You're welcome to it if you want it," she offered.

"Thanks," he said, picking up the bowl.

She leaned an elbow on the back of the bench and ate a couple of grapes, watching him.

"This is really good," he commented. "Where did you learn to cook so well?"

"It's only pasta and vegetables, Jack. It's pretty simple."

"It's better than the sandwich I had." He gave her a sideways look. "You know, they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, Counselor."

Her eyebrows arched. "And your point is?"

He smiled. "No point. Just an observation." He handed her empty bowl back. "So if that's the way to a man's heart, what's the way to a woman's?"

Morgan put the bowl back into a paper bag, shaking her head. "I would think that by now you would know, there are no blanket answers that apply to women."

"You won't get an argument from me on that," he agreed. Pulling off the last grape, he added, "I just thought you might have some insight on the subject; you know, from a woman's point of view."

She looked off into the distance. "If you asked the next twenty women who walked by here that same question, you would probably get twenty different answers." She looked at him intently. "All I can tell you is that from my own observations, if a woman has kids, that's the way to get to her. If you like a woman's children, and they like you, so will she."

"And the ones without kids?" He turned to face her more.

She shrugged. "I don't have a clue as to what other women want. I'm not sure most of them know themselves. And what they think will make them happy today, will probably change tomorrow."

He was a little taken aback at her candor. "I don't think I've ever heard a woman say anything like that before."

"The truth is, women are complicated. Men are the simple ones," she teased.

"You won't get an argument from me on that point either." He took a drink, watching her closely. "So what about you? What's the way to your heart?"

Morgan's gaze dropped to a point somewhere on the bench between them. When she looked back up, even though she had an amused smile, it was as if a door had closed behind her eyes; all the sparkle was gone. "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you to protect my secret."

His smile was slow. "Surely that doesn't apply if I find out on my own."

"Don't be so sure," she answered quietly.

As McCoy's eyebrows arched, Morgan closed her eyes, turning toward the sun. Auburn highlights sparkled in her hair as he studied her carefully, wondering at her serious tone.

After several minutes of silence, he glanced at his watch and sighed. "We should be getting back."

She opened her eyes and checked her own watch, then gave him a pleading look. "Ten more minutes?"

It pleased him that she was content to remain sitting with him. He gave her a warm smile. "What's wrong, Counselor? You don't seem eager to go back in. Losing confidence in your case?"

She took a deep breath, turning her face to the sun again. "If I wasn't absolutely positive it would earn me a contempt citation, I wouldn't go back in at all today. And it has nothing to do with the case. It's just too nice of a day to be locked up in a stuffy courtroom."

He looked around them. "I agree. It would be a perfect day to go for a motorcycle ride in the country. But being the responsible officers of the court that we are, that isn't an option."

"I know. But there aren't going to be too many more days like this for a while. You can almost feel the cold weather coming. In fact, the paper shows a winter storm moving in that's supposed to hit us some time next week."

He rested his elbow on the back of the bench. "Where do you run when the weather gets bad?"

"The only time I don't run outside is when there's lightning. I don't mind running in the cold, even when it's raining or snowing. I've learned how to dress for it. And there's nothing like coming in from a run on a cold day and having a cup of hot tea." She began to collect her belongings.

"I always thought those people I see out running in the rain and snow were nuts," he teased, picking up his trash.

"You mean like those people I see riding motorcycles?"

"So maybe we're both a little nuts," he offered with a smile.

As they walked back into the building, McCoy said, "Lunch was fun. I enjoyed it."

"Thanks. I did too."

"We should do it again, while the weather holds up. How about tomorrow?"

"I can't tomorrow or Friday. Maybe Monday," she suggested.

"Sounds good. I'll bring my lunch."

***The rest of that afternoon and all of Thursday and Friday were spent listening to one after another of Fairchild's friends and employees tell how he and Carpelli had been more than business partners, but friends as well. There were also the usual character references, including two people from the mayor's office, revealing that Fairchild was well liked by his co-workers and that he was an honest businessman whose main priority appeared to be his family.

***"Since I can't go running this evening, I was thinking of going tomorrow or Sunday. Would you like to meet this weekend sometime?" Carmichael asked.

Morgan shook her head. "I can't. I have a full day tomorrow and I even have a meeting scheduled for Sunday." The three had crossed the street beside the court building and were walking through the parking lot. They reached Morgan's car first.

Stopping behind it, McCoy handed his keys to Carmichael. "I'll catch up with you in a minute."

The two exchanged looks and Carmichael smiled. "See you Monday, Calea."

"Have fun this evening, Abbie." Morgan watched her walk away, then turned to McCoy. He had been quiet on the way out of the building, listening to the two women talk. "Are we still on for lunch Monday?" she asked, fishing her own keys out of her briefcase.

He nodded. "I'm looking forward to it." He held out his hand and when she had given the keys to him, he said, "Sounds like you have another busy weekend ahead."

Morgan sighed, turning to walk slowly to the car door. "I keep thinking things will quiet down, but so far, it hasn't worked out that way. I haven't taken any new cases since before the trial started, I'm only working with established clients, but they aren't the most patient people in the world. They all seem to think their lives will be ruined if I don't take care of them immediately."

"I think you could use a break." He made no move to unlock the door. "Why don't you have dinner with me tonight?"

Her eyes met his and for a second he was sure she was going to accept. But then she blinked, and her carefully guarded look was back in place. "Thanks for the invitation, but I'd better not. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. I should go home."

"And do you always do what you should, Counselor?"

She was looking up with her head turned slightly to the side as she studied him. The wind had blown a few strands of hair down across her forehead, almost to her eyes. He resisted an urge to reach out and brush them back into place.

"I believe this would be a good time to invoke my Fifth Amendment rights." Her tone was light but her eyes were serious. McCoy had the distinct impression that his question had unsettled her.

"And I think that if the truth were told, the answer to my question would be 'yes', Calea." He took a step toward her and unlocked the car, his eyes never leaving hers.

Morgan said nothing, only holding her hand out for the keys after he had opened the door.

"Thank you," she said, when he had placed them in her hand. Her expression was still serious. "Have a good weekend, Jack."

"You too. Don't work too hard."

With a satisfied smile, he walked to his car where Carmichael was waiting.

 

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