Bum Deal (Jake Lassiter Legal Thrillers Book 13) by Paul Levine

Author:Paul Levine [Levine, Paul]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Published 2018

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Of Spitting and Pissing

Pincher tapped ashes from his Cohiba into his black onyx ashtray. Suarez craned his neck upward, exhaling a blue-gray smoke ring. JT sat there with his jagged-tooth, shit-eating grin, waiting for me to try to remember who the hell he was.

I studied his face, came up empty, shook my head. “My memory’s not what it used to be.”

The man said, “I didn’t have the beard then. J. T. Wetherall. Ring a bell?”

A distant chime, but I still couldn’t place him. Normal aging, maybe. Sometimes I forget the names of ex-teammates and former lady friends. Then again, maybe misshapen brain protein was clogging my memory banks.

“Sorry, JT, you seem familiar, but . . .”

“No worries, Lassiter. Long time ago. Criminal case in Orange County. Started as a business dispute between two brothers who owned a citrus grove. Then one of them got busted with a stash of cocaine in his pickup. You defended him.”

“Ah, there it is. Deputy Wetherall.”

“Sheriff’s department. That was me.”

It came back then. Wetherall on the witness stand, smirking at me, daring me to call him a liar. “You planted evidence, Wetherall. You were a dirty cop.”

“So you claimed. Jury disagreed.”

“Another failing of the so-called justice system. Or maybe I wasn’t good enough to show them the darkness sitting right in front of them. You lied so easily, so naturally, that it was a wonder to—”

“Jeez, Jake,” Pincher stopped me. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“Right, Ray. I remember. ‘The sunny side of justice.’ That’s what you called this office when you drafted me.”

Wetherall puffed on his own cigar and blew smoke in my direction. I felt a headache brewing, pressure building behind my eyes like steam in a boiler.

“When you cross-examined me,” Wetherall said, “you got real close to the witness stand. The judge warned you a couple times to step back, but you kept inching up, raising your voice. You were waving my personnel file at me. Had a couple demerits in there for excessive force. You taunted me. Shouted at me. Your spittle hit me in the face.”

They ought to teach it in law school. If you want the spit to fly, drink two glasses of water, use a lot of s words, and get close to your target.

“I wanted you to lose it, Wetherall, to come off the witness stand and take a swing at me.”

“If I’d done it, you would have regretted that decision, friend.”

“I was in dire need of a mistrial, so yeah, I would have given you a free one.”

“See what I told you, Pepe?” Pincher said. “Lassiter will take a punch for a client.”

Poor Ray sounded desperate to please his major donor and majordomo. I felt sorry for Pincher, so I didn’t point out that the people of Florida were my clients, not filthy-rich Pepe Suarez.

“The judge called Lassiter up to the bench,” Wetherall continued, enjoying the limelight. “Chewed his ass out. You remember, Counselor?”

“Nope.”

That was a lie. I’ve flirted with contempt and danced with disbarment

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