Kane and Abel/Sons of Fortune Read online

  “Yes, I can,” said Nat, “and now that I’ve met your mother, I’d like you to meet mine, because I am equally proud of her.” Su Ling laughed.

  “Why do you laugh, little flower?” asked Nat.

  “In my country, for a man to meet a woman’s mother is to admit to a relationship. If the man then asks you to meet his mother, it means betrothal. If he then does not marry the girl, she will be a spinster for the rest of her life. However, I will take that risk, because Tom asked me to marry him yesterday when you were running away.

  Nat bent down, kissed her on the lips and then placed both his feet gently on top of hers. She smiled. “I love you too,” she said.

  20

  “WHAT DO YOU make of it?” asked Jimmy.

  “I’ve no idea,” said Fletcher, who glanced over at the attorney general’s table, but none of the state’s team gave any sign of looking either anxious or confident.

  “You could always ask Professor Abrahams for his opinion,” said Annie.

  “Why, is he still around?”

  “I saw him roaming up and down the corridor only a few moments ago.”

  Fletcher left the table, pushed open the little wooden gate dividing the court from the public and strode quickly out of the courtroom into the corridor. He glanced up and down the wide marble expanse, but didn’t spot the professor until the crowds near the rotunda staircase parted to reveal a distinguished-looking man seated in the corner, head down, writing notes on a legal pad. Court officials and members of the public rushed past him, unaware of his presence. Fletcher walked apprehensively across to join him and watched as the old man continued making notes. He didn’t feel he could interrupt, so he waited until the professor eventually looked up.

  “Ah, Davenport,” he said, tapping the bench beside him. “Take a seat. You have an inquiring look on your face, so how may I assist you?”

  Fletcher sat beside him. “I only wanted to ask your opinion on why the jury has been out for so long. Should I read anything into it?”

  The professor checked his watch. “Just over five hours,” he said. “No, I wouldn’t consider that long for a capital charge. Juries like to let you know that they’ve taken their responsibility seriously, unless of course it’s cut and dried, and this case certainly wasn’t.”

  “Do you have any feel for what the outcome might be?” asked Fletcher anxiously.

  “You can never second-guess a jury, Mr. Davenport; twelve people chosen at random, with little in common, though I must say, with a couple of exceptions, they looked a fair-minded lot. So what’s your next question?”

  “I don’t know, sir, what is my next question?”

  “What should I do if the verdict goes against me?” He paused. “An eventuality you must always prepare for.” Fletcher nodded. “Answer? You immediately ask the judge for leave to appeal.” The professor tore off one of the sheets of yellow paper and handed it across to his pupil. “I hope you will not consider it presumptuous of me, but I have jotted down a simple form of words for every eventuality.”

  “Including guilty?” said Fletcher.

  “No need to be that pessimistic yet. First we must consider the possibility of a hung jury. I observed in the center of the back row a juror who never once looked at our client while she was on the witness stand. But I noticed that you also spotted the lady on the far end of the front row who lowered her eyes when you held up the scorched palm of Mrs. Kirsten’s right hand.”

  “What do I do if it is a hung jury?”

  “Nothing. The judge, although not the brightest legal mind currently sitting on the appellate bench, is meticulous and fair when it comes to points of law, so he will ask the jury if they are able to return a majority verdict.”

  “Which in this state is ten to two.”

  “As it is in forty-three other states,” the professor reminded him.

  “But if they are unable to agree on a majority verdict?”

  “The judge is left with no choice but to dismiss the jury and ask the attorney general if he wishes to call for a retrial, and before you ask, I can’t second-guess how Mr. Stamp will react to that eventuality.”

  “You seem to have made a lot of notes,” Fletcher said, looking down at line after line of neatly written script.

  “Yes, I intend to refer to this case next term when I give my lecture on the legal difference between manslaughter and homicide. It will be for my third-year students, so you should not be too embarrassed.”

  “Should I have accepted the attorney general’s deal of manslaughter, and settled for three years?”

  “I suspect we will find out the answer to that question in the not-too-distant future.”

  “Did I make a lot of mistakes?” asked Fletcher.

  “A few,” said the professor turning the pages of his pad.

  “What was the biggest one?”

  “Your only glaring error, in my opinion, was not calling a doctor to describe in graphic detail—something doctors always enjoy doing—how the bruises on Mrs. Kirsten’s arms and legs might have been inflicted. Juries admire doctors. They assume that they are honest people, and in the main they are. But like every other group, if you ask them the right question—and it is after all the lawyers who select the questions—they are as prone to exaggeration as the rest of us.” Fletcher felt guilty that he had missed such an obvious gambit, and only wished he had taken Annie’s advice and sought the professor’s counsel earlier.

  “Don’t worry, the state still has one or two hurdles to cross, because the judge is certain to grant us a stay of execution.”

  “Us?” said Fletcher.

  “Yes,” said the professor quietly, “although I have not appeared in court for many years, and may well be a little rusty, I was hoping that you might allow me to assist you on this occasion.”

  “You would serve as my co-counsel?” said Fletcher in disbelief.

  “Yes, Davenport, I would,” said the professor, “because you did convince me of one thing. Your client should not be spending the rest of her life in jail.”

  “Jury’s coming back,” shouted a voice that echoed down the corridor.

  “Good luck, Davenport,” added the professor. “And may I say before I hear the result, that for a second-year student, your defense was a remarkable tour de force.”

  Nat could sense how nervous Su Ling was the closer they got to Cromwell. “Are you sure your mother will approve of the way I’m dressed?” she asked, pulling her skirt down even farther.

  Nat looked across to admire the simple yellow suit that Su Ling had selected, that just hinted how graceful her figure was. “My mother will approve, and my father won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

  Su Ling squeezed his leg. “How will your father react when he finds not that I’m Korean?”

  “I shall remind him of your Irish father,” said Nat. “In any case, he’s spent his whole life dealing with figures, so it will take him only a few minutes to realize how bright you are.”

  “It’s not too late to turn back,” said Su Ling. “We could always visit them next Sunday.”

  “It is too late,” said Nat. “In any case, haven’t you considered how nervous my parents might be? After all, I have already told them that I’m desperately in love with you.”

  “Yes, but my mother adored you.”

  “And mine will adore you.” Su Ling remained silent until Nat told her that they were approaching the outskirts of Cromwell.

  “But I don’t know what to say.”

  “Su Ling, it’s not an examination that you have to pass.”

  “Yes, it is, that’s exactly what it is.”

  “This is the town where I was born,” said Nat, trying to relax her as they drove down the main street. “When I was a child, I thought it was a great metropolis. But to be fair, I also used to think Hartford was the capital of the world.”

  “How long before we get there?” she asked.

  Nat glanced out of the window. “I’d say ab