Page 5 of Fish in a Barrel
“If you didn’t want it brought up,” she said icily, “maybe you shouldn’t have authorized it.”
“He fought back!” said a younger officer bitterly. So fair his neck was turning purple with agitation, his voice rang with injured adolescent dignity.
“You werebeatinghim,” Arizona retorted. “I don’t know which part of that you don’t understand. I told you this would happen, and I warned you they would introduce the evidence in the criminal trial so they could use it in the civil trial. Well, they have. And when this kid gets let off, expect Cramer’s partner to come after you in the most celebrated civil suit in the city. This isn’t going away.”
“Well, not from anythingyou’retrying to do,” snarled the taller dark-haired officer. “I swear, it’s like you want him to get off!”
“Because evenIknow he didn’t do anything,” she snapped back. “Now if I were you, I’d go try to find the real perpetrator, or Rivers and Cramer are going to do it for you and make you look even worse. Now go.”
They all stared at her and then looked over at Jackson and Ellery speculatively.
Jackson bared his teeth at them in what was definitelynota smile. They were working on it. Ofcoursethey were working on it. But the state was hell-bent on cramming this case through the system, trying their defendant while the bruises from his police beating were still visible and his jaw was still wired, rendering him all but mute.
The witnesses for the prosecution visibly recoiled from Jackson’s expression, and the silence in the courtroom thudded like a lead gavel on flesh.
“Go!” Arizona shouted, and the clot of cops left, grumbling, leaving a nearly clear courtroom.
“Arizona…?” Ellery began, but she shook her head and held up her hand.
“Win this one,” she said. “I can’t have any more off days or Brentwood’ll declare a mistrial. You know that. See you both tomorrow.”
And with that she was gone, leaving Jackson with the distinct impression she was crying.
Ellery met his eyes then, and they had a complete silent conversation that started with “Okay, that was weird”and ended with “We’ll talk about it when we get rid of the civilians.”
Arturo had already gone around the table to grasp Ezekiel’s wheelchair and begin pushing him down the aisle between the banks of seats, and Effie followed him slowly. Arturo, Effie, and Zeke had all come in Arturo’s van—he’d been given custody after Zeke made bail, and suddenly Zeke was having to deal with locks on the door to his dormitory and hourly checks to make sure he hadn’t tried to fly the coop again.
Jackson got the feeling that after meeting the “good” guys, Zeke wasn’t going to want to fly the coop again for a very long time.
October Dreams
THEY’D LEFTtheir car at their office, which was less than a mile away. After they saw Arturo, Ezekiel, and Effie off, all in Arturo’s well-equipped shuttle, they decided to give Ellery’s healing leg a workoutnotin the pool and walked back. They didn’t hurry, practically the only people on the sidewalk in the surprisingly crisp and cloudy October afternoon.
Jackson had shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, and Ellery made a note to himself to steam the creases before Jackson wore that suit again. With some maneuvering on Ellery’s part, Jackson had more than two good suits now, but not much more. On the one hand, his protests made sense; most of his days were spent running down leads. People were much more likely to respond to him—open up, in fact—if he was casually dressed, although Jackson tended to take it to extremes.
On the other hand, Jackson, nicely dressed in a fitted suit with a tie the same green as his eyes, quite simply took Ellery’s breath away, and Ellery was not above his little indulgences.
Living with Jackson Leroy Rivers wasn’t easy. Ellery figured he was due.
They got about a block, the tension seeping from them with each step, before Jackson voiced the question that sat heavy between them.
“What the actual fuck, Ellery? I mean… the actual holy Mary mother offuckwas that?”
Ellery blew out a breath, about to say “I don’t know,” for comfort, when he realized that would be the easy answer and a lie.
They took a few more steps, and Jackson glanced at him sideways. “Spill.”
Ah, the benefits of a partner and lover who could read your mind. Fantastic when they were in bed, not so wonderful when Ellery wanted to think carefully about something before answering.
“So,” he said after a moment, “remember when you were half-dead from your heart condition and I was half-dead with worry?”
“So, say, most of June, all of July, on into August, until you broke your leg in a car wreck and we had other things to do.”
“Yes, that,” Ellery said dryly. October was closing fast, with what looked like a hopefully wet November on the other side of the weekend. His leg was mostly healed from a hairline fracture of the tibia, and the bruises from the car wreck that had, they both hoped, saved lives in the long run, had disappeared weeks ago.
And some of the consequences of the two of them being occupied with each other instead of the political climate of their city were coming home to roost.
“I remember,” Jackson replied, voice equally dry. “So we were busy. What happened while we weren’t paying attention?”
