Chapter 12 Section Eleven

Hardy reached out from the bed and turned off the alarm, threw off the quilt covering his body, and forced himself to sit up straight, lest he couldn't resist the strong temptation to doze off—the idea of ​​sleeping for another minute— —and fall back to sleep.Franny heard the noise and muttered something behind his back.He felt her hand lightly brushing his back. Hardy avoided her dazed hand groping behind him, quickly pushed her back on the bed, let go of his hand and got up from the bed. stood up. The light in the room was still a little dim.He stood motionless for a moment, trying to make up his mind to move himself.Outside, the cool wind was beating against the windows, and the storm was not over yet.

After showering and shaving, in order to look as dignified as possible, he put on trousers and a shirt in the bathroom, but his mind was clearly not clear, and it must have been last night. sleep well.At this point, he was still not fully awake, and Franny hadn't gotten up yet.He figured he'd go downstairs and get her a cup of coffee, so they could both have a little time to relax before the marathon of sending the kids to school each day began. He came to the kitchen, turned on the light, and fed some food to his tropical fish.The long corridor leading to the front door of the house also looked very dark, but he decided that was the weather, so he didn't think much of it.As he opened the door, he noticed that the paper delivery man had left the San Francisco Chronicle on the porch—not an everyday occurrence, which pleased him greatly, and perhaps was a good sign, There will be good luck today.

But God, he thought, it's still dark. He often expresses his opinion to others that the automatic coffee machine is one of the most important modern inventions.It can automatically start brewing your all-important first cup of coffee of the day when your morning alarm goes off, so that when you walk up to it, it is ready for you. s things.But this time when he got to it, he froze, frowning, because the coffee carafe was empty.To make matters worse, that little green "Program" light was still on - when it goes into "Run" mode, the light turns red.What's going on here?He clearly remembered that he prepared coffee last night before going upstairs to bed.Now, he bent over and squinted to check the clock on the coffee maker.

Four forty-five. He turned his head to look around, then raised his head to look at the big clock hanging on the kitchen wall.Yes, the same time.Finally, he thought of checking his watch, which confirmed for the third time that the time was correct.It's 4:30 a.m. on a Thursday morning, and he wakes up early, fully dressed and with nowhere to go.For no particular reason, it could just be that someone reset his alarm time.Once he found out who made the joke, that person would be in trouble.He even half thought about waking the two kids up now, identifying the culprit and getting the thumbtack ready for punishment.

Just now I thought I was going to be lucky, but now I encountered troublesome things.He still had to wait for his damn coffee to be brewed and ground.There is nothing to do now but pass the time.He opened the newspaper angrily, threw it on the dining table, sat down, and found that the light in the room was still very dim. At least he now knew why it was so dark. The next thing he noticed was the headline in the newspaper: "Health Maintenance Organization CEO's Death Accused of Murder." Even the subheadline mentioning potassium was right in the way.Although he read the report thoroughly, the identity of his new client's intensive care unit duty doctor only appeared once in the article, but once was enough.Hardy couldn't help but start to worry about this matter.

Reports about the Markham family further exacerbated his concerns.The story was told in ulterior terms, suggesting that there was evidence that the wife's death was implicated in a murder or suicide—another dull American tragedy, the reasons for which may forever remain a mystery.But in Hardy's view, marking Markham's death as murder at this point in time to draw any conclusive conclusions about how and why his family was slaughtered would be premature. After reading the second story, he sat motionless and brooding for a while, then got up, poured himself a cup of coffee, sat back at the table, and read Jeff Elliott's column.

Grisky is in the elevator.When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, he saw Desmas Hardy.Hardy said, "I just went to your office. You're not there." "Are you kidding me?" Grisky stepped out of the elevator into the foyer, "When did you go?" "just now." "Am I not in my office?" "I didn't see your shadow." "One of the things I've always admired about you is your eye for detail." The two walked side by side towards the homicide squad. "What's the other point?" Hardy asked. "What else?"

"One of the things you've always admired about me. Having one means there's something else." Griski glanced at him briefly, took a few steps forward, and shook his head. "I look back and that's the only thing. A keen eye for detail." Arriving at the homicide unit, and entering Grisky's office, Hadi pulled up a folding chair and sat down at his desk.He looked around critically. "You should get some decorations, it looks a little depressing in here." "I like how depressing it is," Griski said. "It makes meetings shorter. Speaking of—" he pointed to his overflowing filing box, "that's me. I can't finish what I have to do today. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"My keen eye for detail tells me that you're not in the mood for small talk this morning, so I'll get straight to the point: I thought Braco was one of your patrolmen." "That might be more accurate." He reached for the file box. "Well, feel free to stop by and see me anytime. It's always a pleasure." "I've got another case. What do you know about Tim Markham?" Griski stopped fiddling with the file, looked up and turned away, frowning. "Who do you represent?" "Eric Kenson." "It's amazing. When did that happen?"

"recent." Griski moved forward in the chair and reached out to touch the scar on his face. "As far as I recall, the last time I told you about a case at this stage, I was therefore without work for several weeks." "That's right. But that's the right thing to do." A year ago, Griski showed Hardee a videotape in the district attorney's office before it was declared for forensic purposes. The tape contained dubious confessions made by Hadi's clients, for which he was placed on short-term suspension. "You know what David Crockett used to say? 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead.'"

"I always thought that was the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Prisons are full of people who think like old David. Genghis Khan had the same motto, I believe." "But he's a good leader. I've only got a few niggles and they won't fire you, I promise." "Then you can ask first, and I'll make a decision. Say it quickly. If possible, it's better not the kind of question that requires a long discussion." "Is Kenson in trouble?" Griski nodded in satisfaction. "That's great for you." He shrugged teasingly. "Well, no matter from which point we charge Markham with murder, I'm sure your client is only on the point of medical liability. In other words, you need to find a lawyer. Other than that..." Griski's eyes flicked in the direction of the door—it was closed.He turned to Hardy and continued, "I guess he told you that he had a motive." He paused, and then answered, "He was also the last one with that family. people." "You mean the Markham family? The information in the papers is that it's a mad wife." "Yes, I've seen it." Grisky moved back in the chair again, "I think you have understood your question." "You don't think his wife did it? But if not, is it the same man who killed that husband?" "I didn't think about anything. My mind was still blank." "But if my client is a suspect in the Markham case, then he's—" Grisky stopped him. "We're not discussing this. You're doing it outside the bounds of your question. That's it." "Okay. That's not a problem. I talked to Kenson this morning before I left the house. He wants to talk to you." "Of course he wants to. I'm the queen of Bavaria. Are you going to make him do it?" "I tell you that was a stupid idea. What I said to him was worse than that. But maybe you've heard it, and the doctor knows it best. He thinks you'll listen to his story and let him go. He A witness, not a suspect." "Did he say he wanted to confess the truth at this stage and get away with it?" "No, it's not like that at all. He didn't do anything wrong. He's a witness." "The best defense is the best attack." Hardy shrugged disapprovingly.It's not his idea.He knew Griski might see it that way, but he thought it was his job at this point to ease Kenson's unease and fit the conversation into his schedule. "How about talking in my office, after get off work?" Grisky thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Okay. That works." "Remember he's a witness, not a suspect." "I think you've said that several times." "But you haven't said you agree with that." "Your eye for detail is at it again," Grisky said, before sitting down again. "He's what he is, Deeds. I'm afraid we'll have to see how this thing plays out. " After leaving homicide, Hardy went straight downstairs to Jackman's office to see if he could pick up any tidbits of information that might be of use to his new client.That seemed unlikely, but the District Attorney was relatively inexperienced in dealing with criminal matters, and if he and Hardy were just friends, something might slip in casual chatter. Hardy stopped at the door outside Jackman's office.Treya said "Okay, sir" to someone on the phone, smiled at Hardy, and held out a finger to signal him to "wait a moment".Hardy walked in, kissed her on the cheek, and waited in a chair by Jackman's door.Treya continued to answer gracefully in her cadenced, professional tone, but in between these answers, she would playfully roll her eyes and make exaggerated expressions from time to time. Looking at her, Hardy grinned amusedly. After the death of Grisky's first wife, Hardy couldn't believe that anyone else could be as caring and considerate a companion as Treia was to his best friend.Within a year, though, Treya had won his heart, and Franny's babysitting duties for him were over.Treya was not only competent and confident, she also used her humor and it took a long time to finally get Abu out of an extremely difficult situation in his life. Finally, she hung up the phone. "It's the mayor," she explained, "who always wants my opinion on key issues." Then, with an inquiring look, "do you have an appointment? Clarence is waiting Your visit? I haven't made a note of it." "No, I just stopped by to see if he has time to chat with me." "I don't think he has a chat scheduled on his schedule today. He just asked me to tell the Lord Mayor that he's out." She smiled sweetly, "Perhaps you'd like to do things like this the normal way and make sure time for something." "I will, but not sure when I'll be back in the lobby." "I have an idea, Deeds, you can plan it out, and there's nothing else to say." "Unless Clarence and I left long beforehand. We're good friends." "He thought so too." "I just hate to see our relationship lose that natural feel and add something contrived." Treya nodded sympathetically. "The same goes for Clarence, he's been bothered by it all the time. I'll make a note for your visiting appointment at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Then you can talk to him about it." The phone on her desk rang, and she asked Hardy waved goodbye and picked up the phone. ※※※ Back in his office, Hardy called the aquarium and learned that the shark, Francis, was still alive and swimming under his own power.But Biko did not admit that this is a victory. "He didn't eat at all. Swimming is one thing, but he has to eat too." "How do you know it's a male?" "What do you think of me being the curator here? Because of a Ph.D. in marine biology? The ability to tell the difference between male and female fish? Which of these?" "I always think of it as positive action. What are you feeding it?" "Fish food." Biko was clearly getting a headache from Hardy's mindless questions. "Can we talk about something else? How's Eric?" Hardy's face fell, and his tone became serious. "I have a question for you. How well do you know him?" "Very deep. He was my family's doctor for many years. We used to be very close. I mean - communicatively - before he and Ann broke up. Why ask?" "Do you think he's going to kill?" Pico said angrily, "No way." After a pause, he continued, "Would you like to hear a story about who he was?" "Anything that makes him look good." "Okay, do you remember when Danny first got sick?" "Of course." Biko's eldest son is seventeen now, but ten years ago he was diagnosed with leukemia.Hardy remembers some highly dramatic episodes surrounding the diagnosis and treatment, which turned out to be a bone marrow transplant, but was ultimately avoided. "Is that Kenson?" "Yes. But maybe you don't know, he did a long re-diagnosis before some board meeting at the hospital approved the treatment plan he developed. They said it was an expensive method and they wanted to wait and see and let him do it More testing, that's it. So what did Eric do?" "tell me." "He thought we couldn't wait any longer, and if we waited, Danny might die. So he lied." "To whom?" "Health maintenance organization. When's the last time you heard of a doctor risking his own job to save a patient? Well, that's what Eric did. He made Danny's medical report look bigger than it was at the time." The reality is worse. If he gets it wrong, he'll be wasting a lot of money from the health maintenance organization, sorry, but if he's right, Danny survives." Lowered a little, "Anyway, that's the kind of guy Eric is, Deeds, that's for sure. He's been doing this kind of stuff the whole time. My God! He's calling patients' homes to check on them. He's Spin circles with my shark. He's a saint, if not a hero, if you ask me." When Hardy hung up, a thought confused him again.There are bad sides to the story Biko tells.Kenson may have been a saint, a hero, but he was also a questioner.It was also a testament to his own consistent and subtle ability to deceive.He falsified medical records and likely defrauded his employer of thousands of dollars.And if he did it once with Danny Morales, he probably did it with other patients, at least a few of them, and there's a good chance he got it wrong. David Freeman's massive office is inlaid with polished old ebony.Burgundy drapes hung over the two windows, a lion-footed, leather-covered desk stood in the center, and the forty-eight-foot space was mostly littered with newspapers, papers, ashtrays, Open and closed bags, paperweights, celebrity photos and several telephones.The well-stocked bar also has a temperature-controlled wine cabinet, Anchor Ship beer ready to drink, two humidors, and a steam pressurized coffee machine.Opposite to the lawyer's seat, there are several seating areas for clients, and the layout is an intermediate style between formal and informal.The floor is covered with Persian rugs.On stands and stands of various styles, there are various trinkets presented by wealthy and grateful clients for nearly half a century.In one corner of the house, a statue of Francis, the Italian animal and environmental patron saint, created by the artist Buffalo, protects the entire house.In a Byzantine glass case are displayed weapons used by alleged murderers—"alleged" because their respective owners were ultimately acquitted, and they are silently Another indisputable testament to Freeman's ability in court.In fact, as evidence of his own winning cases and his own reputation, David can get them from the prosecutor and the police after winning the case. Hardy crossed his legs, took a sip of the espresso in the coffee cup, and put it on the armrest of the sofa.His landlord made himself a cup too, put it on his desk, sat there, blew on a hot cup of coffee, and then lost his mind on some paperwork.After drinking the coffee in the cup, he reached out and carefully placed the cup on the center of the small porcelain saucer.For the next minute or so, Freeman didn't even lift his head except for flipping the pages in front of him.He took notes from time to time, and from time to time he muttered a sentence or two to himself, expressing a different opinion or agreement with what he was flipping through. Seeing him immerse himself in his work, Hardy couldn't hold back, but at the same time he was moved by this man's childlike energy and passion for work.After all, Freeman was seventy-six years old.He has practiced law for over fifty years, and despite his knowledge and experience, he is not complacent about his work.He arrives at the office on time at seven o'clock every day, and when he is not in court, he stays at his desk as often as possible until late for dinner, and then usually returns to the office for a nightcap or two. Quickly write more than twenty pages of memos or letters with the company. In Hardy's view, the old man had lost three or four inches in height and gained fifteen pounds during the eight years they had been dating.His thin, white hair could have been braided.If he lets his brows grow and doesn't trim, he can braid them too.A downright undressed man—"juries don't trust well-dressed people"—he favored brown suits, many of them from thrift stores, whether they fit or not.He never sent them to be ironed either.He smoked or smoked a cigar a lot, and drank at least one bottle of wine a day at the office, maybe another at lunch, and the same with dinner.He never worked out and his hands and face were covered with purple age spots.Today there was a smear of blood on his neck at the collar of his shirt, which must have been from his shaving.Looking at him, Hardy thought, he was the happiest man, and possibly the healthiest man on the planet. He also lost no time in cracking a mild joke. "Are you all right, Diz? Have you gotten enough sleep?" Hardy thought to himself, he has been staring at him, but he has never looked up at himself, how could he ask such a question?But there is no need to say that the time of your alarm clock is wrong, that children are the source of all troubles in a person's life, and so on.If Hardy complained, Freeman would tell him, "You woke up yourself, forget about it." So Hardy responded, "Just sleep after lunch. Just to add, I got up early today." "Hope that one can serve you," Freeman said, pointing in the direction of his bar. "If you want another drink, pour it yourself. Meanwhile, as far as serving, I'd be happy to oblige you, but be quick. Forty I'll be in Federal Court in a few minutes. It's about the appeal against Lytham, God bless his tormented heart. What brought you here?" Hardy briefly described his meeting with Dr. Kenson, only to be yelled at by the old man. "You talked to your new client for over an hour, even took his case, a possible murder suspect, and never raised the question of your fee?" For criminal litigation, the established rule in the legal industry is to collect the client's remuneration in advance.In this matter, he did the opposite, tried once or twice, and it can be said that he got a severe lesson, and he discovered that the facts proved the truth of the old saying.Why should they pay you if you successfully win a lawsuit for representation and let those clients go without a fee, they don't need a lawyer anymore?On the other hand, if you lose and they go to jail, why should they pay for your defense?Therefore, after the meeting greeting with the client, in the next sensitive period of six minutes, you usually bring up the topic of remuneration to your "hiring person" from time to time. Now, Freeman's genial mentor is just reminding him. "My boy, that's why you're afraid to die poor, but there's really no reason for a good lawyer to die poor." "Yes, sir, I'm sure you've reminded me of similar things before. Anyway, I emphasized to Grisky that he was a witness and not a suspect." "Ah." Freeman nodded cheerfully, "That good captain wants to get to know him better, is that so?" The old man stood up from behind his desk and roared like he was in court, "You are crazy Is it?" Then he controlled his agitation and returned to normal, "A witness, not a suspect? He's the prime suspect! And I'll tell you something else. Kenson no doubt I figured I was a prime suspect. Why do you think he'd want a senior lawyer? Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like him as a person." "You have never met him." "So what? You just met him once. Are you going to tell me you know he didn't commit murder?" "Did he inject Markham with potassium?" "Or run him over. Maybe a bit of both." "David—" "Why not? The dead guy fucked his wife. That's the oldest motive for murder in the world." "So after waiting two years, he killed him?" His worldview hadn't changed at all, and Freeman sat back in his chair looking like a Buddha statue. "It happens every day. Seriously, Deeds, what do you think this case isn't for you? It looks like a perfect fit for me. Anyway, I'm sure enough to handle charges and arrests. You see How I did it." According to Freeman's point of view, Hardy had to admit that his client did have the motive, means and timing to kill Markham.Over the course of his career, Hardy has represented numerous grand jury indictments, winning almost none but one occasionally. And just a few hours before, he had acted as an intermediary for his client, arranging for him to have a brief talk with the head of the Homicide Squad about this folly.Kenson might already be in his office, and if more evidence had been found, Griski might have served Kenson a subpoena for a grand jury, or even arrested him on the spot.So far, all Hardy has done for Kenson is let him come out on his own, with unhelpful advice and a bit of self-defeating humor.He realizes only now that the aquarium's similarity to the Clover Bar, and the two men's multilateral friendship with Piccolo Morales have conspired to bring him here by mistake.He was momentarily blinded from the reality Kenson was facing.What was he thinking before? He stood up suddenly. "Excuse me, David, I have to go." "I have this unbelievable déjà vu feeling," Griski said. "Have we already done this?" "That was this morning," Hardy replied. "New opportunities are everywhere, if we have the courage to face them." The captain stared straight at his friend across the desk, then unzipped the side pocket of the jacket he wore all day long, pulled out some disc-shaped white stuff, and popped a piece into his mouth. Li, chirping and chewing. "Would you like some rice crackers too? It's too bad." He stared at the remaining rice crackers for a while, then reached out and threw it into the wastebasket. "How about peanuts?" Hardy asked.For years, a drawer of Griski's desk served as the homicide unit's peanut storage, and the captain often kept handfuls of peanuts with him. "I can have some peanuts." "Too much cholesterol, or fat, or something like that, I forget what it's called." "So besides all this heart-bad stuff, do you also get CRS?" Grisky moved back, folded his arms and watched Hardy. "I'm not going to ask either." "Well, it's okay. If you don't know, you don't know. But if you guess wrong, you'll just say negative things anyway. But it's never too late to make a change, you You know, focus on the positive." "Catch the positive," Griski said dryly. "I have something to tell you, too. Let's undo that." Hardy's face fell. "It's sung differently again. Mind you, it's a negative note again. But this time, it turns out that's exactly what I was thinking too." "What are you thinking?" "Well, I'm sorry to inform you that in the end my client will not be able to come and interview us tonight. The case is too hot for me to allow him to speak to others. However, if you would like to Write down what you ask and give it to me, and I will try to get any information you need." Grisky laughed out loud. "If you will kiss my toes, maybe I will become a ballerina at your command. This is something I have always dreamed of." The two men looked at each other affectionately and fell silent for a moment.Griski finally broke the deadlock. "Okay," he said, "what is CRS?" Hardy said exaggeratedly: "I don't think...don't get up...damn." He couldn't help grinning, "It's a depressing day, don't ask."