Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In a riveting courtroom drama, Talia Potter, indicted for the murder of her judge husband, turns to her lover, Paul Madriani--her husband's ex-law partner--to defend her. 75,000 first printing.
only avenue of escape he has, and Nelson plays it like a master. “Nothing more of this witness,” he says. “Mr. Madriani?” I consider the pros and cons, the benefits and detriments of taking on Coop when he is in one of these moods. It’s hard to say what the jury is thinking at this point, how badly Coop’s credibility may have been harmed. In trying to put a torpedo in the theory of conspiracy, he has, I believe, helped Talia’s case considerably, though this, I’m sure, was never his intent. I
it is, who will be fingered to step out on the ledge with Nelson on election day, to try to nudge him off. Nelson was appointed to fill the vacancy left when Sam retired. Now he has to earn his spurs in the next election. “How’s it going with you? The solo practice and all?” I make a face. “Enjoying it enough. Now ask me if I’m making any money.” “Money’s not everything.” He smiles. “This from a man with a fat county pension.” “You could’ve stayed there. Didn’t have to go chasing the
He uses a wooden match and the car begins to fill with a thick blue haze. I open my window a few inches. “Tough case.” I say it like this is the understatement of the year. “As judicial process goes, the preliminary hearing is a prosecutorial exhibition bout.” It’s true. The only purpose is to weed out groundless felony complaints, to spare wrongly accused defendants the embarrassment and cost of a full trial in the superior court. “For starters,” I say, “the state faces a minimal burden. It’s
small-caliber firearm sometime between seven P.M. and seven-ten P.M., and that it was this wound that resulted in death?” “Yes.” “Then is it safe to say that the shotgun blast heard in Mr. Potter’s office was not the cause of death?” “That’s correct,” says Coop. There’s more stirring from the audience. Two of the reporters leave, probably to telecast live news shots from their vans parked in front of the courthouse. Nelson now heads into the imponderables, the caliber of the small round and
belonged to the victim.” “No further questions, Your Honor.” Now, instead of being merely mortally wounded, Cheetam’d had his ass blown clean out of the water, in full view of the court-the entire world. He had to do something to save face. He leaned over and looked at me, a frigid, vacant expression in his eyes-it was the first time I had seen it in him. It was the look of fear. He was so shaken that it took a second for the brain to engage the mouth. “Can you take him on cross?” he said. I