French Silk(73)
He lowered his hand from his eyes and stared vacantly beyond the window blinds. "It was a brilliantly orchestrated defense. I kept the media apprised of the sordid details, then played their interest for all it was worth. If the jury brought in a guilty verdict, I could always reverse my position and say that my client had been tried in the press.
"But they didn't bring in a guilty verdict." His voice reflected the puzzlement he still felt each time he thought about it. "The jury fell for my theatrics. They acquitted the son of a bitch."
"You were doing what you were paid to do," Tony remarked.
"That doesn't excuse it."
"Half the law community would pat you on the back and envy your success."
"Success? Grossly manipulating the jury and abusing my role as defense attorney?"
"So you went overboard," Tony said. "It's been, what, five years or better? Let it go, Cassidy. Excuse yourself for that one mistake."
"Maybe I could if that were all of it."
"Oh, hell." Crowder leaned back, preparing himself for the worst.
"Two weeks after his acquittal, my client abducted an eleven-year-old fifth-grader off her school playground and drove her to a deserted area of a city park; where he raped her, sodomized her, then strangled her with her training bra. And those were only the crimes that have legal names. The others were—are—unspeakable."
Crowder let several moments of strained silence lapse. "You closed your law office after that."
Cassidy turned away from the window and faced his superior. "Closed the office, shut down my life, relieved my wife of the stigma of being married to me, and left town. That's when I came here."
"Where you've been damned diligent. A real asset to this office."
Cassidy shrugged, wondering if he would ever get over his feelings of inadequacy. Would he ever win a conviction that would atone for that young girl's life? Would he ever be able to face her stricken parents and say, "Finally, I've made amends"? Never. But he would keep trying.
"I won't ever be negligent in my duty again, Tony. I'll never let another psychopath slip through the cracks, never unleash a rapist/ murderer onto an unsuspecting public, most of whom have a misplaced trust in us and the legal system."
"Their trust isn't always misplaced. Every now and then we get the bad guy."
Cassidy put all his powers of persuasion into his gaze. "I'm not going to let you down, Tony, because I can't let myself down. I swear I'll deliver Wilde's killer, no matter who it turns out to be."
Tony gnawed the inside of his cheek. "Okay, I'll give you a couple of more weeks," he said impatiently. "But consider your head on the chopping block with the ax hanging over it."
"I understand." Now that the matter was settled, Cassidy saw no need to linger. Both would be uncomfortable if he groveled with gratitude.
He headed for the door, but Crowder halted him. "Cassidy, I have to ask. If you uncover that missing element that indisputably links Claire Laurent to the murder, will it be a problem for you to prosecute when a conviction would mean mandatory life imprisonment for her?"
Cassidy searched his soul, but he already knew the answer: "Absolutely not. I'd do it with no qualms whatsoever."
As he left the office, he pledged to uphold his promise to Claire, to Tony, and to himself. Under no circumstances would he let his personal interests interfere with his professional duty.
He left the district attorney's building and crossed the street to the police department. Howard Glenn was seated behind a battered, cluttered desk, reclining in a swivel chair, a telephone receiver cradled between his ear and his shoulder. Cassidy came to a halt at the very edge of the desk, his stare boring into Glenn.
"We'll talk later," Glenn said into the receiver, then hung up.
Cassidy said, "The next time you have a complaint about me, don't tattle. Come straight to me with it. Man to man. I'd extend you that courtesy."
"I thought my superintendent—"
"You thought wrong," Cassidy said harshly. "I'm in control of my emotions, of my dick, and of this situation, and it pisses me off that you presumed to have my hands slapped. Don't do it again. If you've got any problems with me, let's hear them now."
Glenn maneuvered his cigarette from one corner of his mouth to the other while carefully gauging the A.D.A. "I've got no problems."
"Fine." Cassidy checked his wristwatch. "It's almost noon. I'll meet you after lunch in my office and we'll discuss our next course of action."
* * *
Chapter 14
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The chimes of St. Louis Cathedral rang out as the bride and groom emerged beneath a hail of rice and good wishes from friends and family. Bridesmaids in frothy pink gowns gleefully battled over the tossed bouquet. The bride paused to kiss her weeping mother goodbye, while the grinning groom, impatient with the seemingly endless round of farewells, scooped the bride—lace gown, tulle veil, and all—into his arms and carried her to the long white limousine awaiting them.
From behind the iron picket fence that enclosed Jackson Square, directly in front of the cathedral, Yasmine watched the romantic scene with a volatile mix of yearning and cynicism. That morning, she'd read in the society page that Congressman and Mrs. Alister Petrie would be attending the fate afternoon wedding mass. Yasmine, who had arrived in New Orleans the night before, had walked from French Silk to the cathedral and posted herself behind the fence with the hope of catching a glimpse of her errant lover.