A Time to Kill

"I’ll ignore that too. Do the judges require local counsel in all cases?"

"Some do, some don’t."

"I see. What about Noose?"

"Sometimes."

"Thanks. Well, I usually associate local counsel when I try cases out in the country. The locals feel better with one of their own sitting there at counsel table with me."

"That’s real nice."

"I don’t suppose you’d be interested in-"

"You must be kidding!" Jake yelled. "I’ve just been fired and now you want me to carry your briefcase. You’re crazy. I wouldn’t have my name associated with yours."

"Wait a minute, hayseed-"

"No, you wait a minute, counselor. This may come as a surprise to you, but in this state we have ethics and laws against soliciting litigation and clients. Champerty-ever hear of it? Of course not. It’s a felony in Mississippi, as in most states. We have canons of ethics that prohibit ambulance chasing and solicitation. Ethics, Mr. Shark, ever hear of them?"

"I don’t chase cases, sonny. They come to me."

"Like Carl Lee Hailey. I’m supposed to believe he picked your name out of the yellow pages. I’m sure you have a full-page ad, next to the abortionists."

"He was referred to me."

"Yeah, by your pimp. I know exactly how you got him. Outright solicitation. I may file a complaint with the bar. Better yet, I might have your methods reviewed by the grand jury."

"Yeah, I understand you and the D.A. are real close. Good day, counselor."

Marsharfsky got the last word before he hung up. Jake fumed for an hour before he could concentrate on the brief he was writing. Lucien would have been proud of him.

Just before lunch Jake received a call from Walter Sullivan, of the Sullivan firm.

"Jake, my boy, how are you?"

"Wonderful."

"Good. Listen, Jake, Bo Marsharfsky is an old friend of mine. We defended a couple of bank officials years ago on fraud charges. Got them off, too. He’s quite a lawyer. He’s associated me as local counsel for Carl Lee Hailey. I was just wanting to know-"

Jake dropped the receiver and walked out of his office. He spent the afternoon on Lucien’s front porch.

Gwen did not have Lester’s number. Neither did Ozzie, nor did anyone else. The operator said there were two pages of Haileys in the Chicago phone book, at least a dozen Lester Haileys, and several L. S.’s. Jake asked for the first five Lester Haileys and called each one. They were all white. He called Tank Scales, the owner of one of the safer and finer black honky tonks in the county. Tank’s Tonk, as it was known. Lester was especially fond of the place. Tank was a client and often provided Jake with valuable and confidential information on various blacks, their dealings and whereabouts.

Tank stopped by the office Tuesday morning on the way to the bank.

"Have you seen Lester Hailey in the past two weeks?" Jake asked.

"Sure. Spent several days at the place shootin’ pool, drinkin’ beer. Went back to Chicago last weekend, I heard. Must’ve, I didn’t see him all weekend."

"Who was he with?"

"Hisself mostly."

"What about Iris?"

"Yeah, he brung her a couple of times when Henry was outta town. Makes me nervous when he brings her. Henry’s a bad dude. He’d cut them both if he knew they’s datin’."

"They’ve been doing it for ten years, Tank."

"Yeah, sh,e got two kids by Lester. Everbody knows it but Henry. Poor old Henry. He’ll find out one day, and you’ll have another murder case."

"Listen, Tank, can you talk to Iris?"

"She don’t come in too often."

"That’s not what I asked. I need Lester’s phone number in Chicago. I figure Iris knows it."

"I’m sure she does. I think he sends her money."

"Can you get it for me? I need to talk to Lester."

"Sure, Jake. If she’s got it, I’ll get it."

By Wednesday Jake’s office had returned to normal. Clients began to reappear. Ethel was especially sweet, or as sweet as possible for a cranky old nag. He went through the motions of practicing law, but the pain showed. He skipped the Coffee Shop each morning and avoided the courthouse by making Ethel do the filing or checking or whatever business required his presence across the street. He was embarrassed, humiliated, and troubled. It was difficult to concentrate on other cases. He contemplated a long vacation, but couldn’t afford it. Money was tight, and he was not motivated to work. He spent most of his time in his office doing little but watching the courthouse and the town square below.

He dwelt on Carl Lee, sitting in his cell a few blocks away, and asked himself a thousand times why he had been betrayed. He had pushed too hard for money, and forgot there were other lawyers willing to take the case for free. He hated Marsharfsky. He recalled the many times he had seen Marsharfsky parade in and out of Memphis courtrooms proclaiming the innocence and mistreatment of his pitiful, oppressed clients. Dope dealers, pimps, crooked politicians, and slimy corporate thugs. All guilty, all deserving of long prison terms, or perhaps even death. He was a yankee, with an obnoxious twang from somewhere in the upper Midwest. It would irritate anybody south of Memphis. An accomplished actor, he would look directly into the cameras and whine: "My client has been horribly abused by the Memphis police." Jake had seen it a dozen times. "My client is completely, totally, absolutely innocent. He should not be on trial. My client is a model citizen, a taxpayer." What about his four prior convictions for extortion? "He was framed by the FBI. Set up by the government. Besides, he’s paid his debt. He’s innocent this time." Jake hated him, and to his recollection, he had lost as many as he had won.

By Wednesday afternoon, Marsharfsky had not been seen in Clanton. Ozzie promised to notify Jake if he showed up at the jail.

Circuit Court would be in session until Friday, and it would be respectful to meet briefly with Judge Noose and explain the circumstances of his departure from the case. His Honor was presiding over a civil case, and there was a

good chance Buckley would be absent. He had .to be absent. He could not be seen or heard.

Noose usually recessed for ten minutes around three-thirty, and precisely at that time Jake entered chambers through the side door. He had not been seen. He sat patiently by the window waiting for Ichabod to descend from the bench and stagger into the room. Five minutes later the door flung open, and His Honor walked in.

"Jake, how are you?" he asked.

"Fine, Judge. Can I have a minute?" Jake asked as he closed the door.

"Sure, sit down. What’s on your mind?" Noose removed his robe, threw it over a chair, and lay on top of the desk, knocking off books, files, and the telephone in the process. Once his gawky frame had ceased moving, he slowly folded his hands over his stomach, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "It’s my back, Jake. My doctor-tells me to rest on a hard surface when possible."

"Uh, sure, Judge. Should I leave?"

"No, no. What’s on your mind?"

"The Hailey case."

"I thought so. I saw your motion. Found a new lawyer, huh?"

"Yes, sir. I had no idea it was coming. I expected to try the case in July."

"You owe no apologies, Jake. The motion to withdraw will be granted. It’s not your fault. Happens all the time. Who’s the new guy Marsharfsky?"

"Yes, sir. From Memphis."

"With a name like that he should be a hit in Ford County."

"Yes, sir." Almost as bad as Noose, thought Jake.