“Did I just hear you turn down a plea without consulting our client?” Steve asked.
“Katrina will do what I tell her,” Victoria replied. They were standing at the door to Zinkavich's office.
“That's awfully arrogant.”
“Right. Sounds like something you would say.”
“Ancient history. I've decided to become more like you.”
“Don't get too principled. We've got a murder case to try.”
“So?”
“Don't wimp out on me, Steve.”
“Jeez, I've created a monster.”
“I still have my ethics. I'm just becoming more pragmatic.” She rapped twice on the door and turned the knob before anyone said to come in.
Jack Zinkavich, lumpy and disheveled, was slumped in a chair at his regulation gunmetal desk, a box of Krispy Kremes within reach of a pudgy arm. A man in an orange jumpsuit sat in a straight-backed chair, his ankles shackled together.
Along a wall, cardboard boxes overflowed with Juvenile Court files, the detritus of Miami's endless familial dysfunctions. On the windowsill sat a dozen stuffed animals, playthings for the young witnesses who trooped in with social workers, guardians ad litem, and cops.
“Look who's here,” Zinkavich called out, grabbing a glazed Krispy Kreme. “The weasel and the princess.”
“What's up?” Steve asked. “We've got work to do.”
“You know this guy, Solomon?” Zinkavich pointed the donut toward the man in the jumpsuit.
Steve glanced at the prisoner. Late thirties. Shaved head. Jailhouse pallor and an ugly scowl. “Never saw him before. What'd he do?”
“Cocaine trafficking. Picked up yesterday. History of auto theft, B-and-E, domestic violence.” Zinkavich chomped on the donut, spoke with his mouth full. “What about you, Thigpen? Recognize this asshole?”
The man in the orange jumpsuit stirred. “That's the heathen,” he said.
Zinkavich licked a sugar slick from his lips. “I got good news and bad news for you, Solomon. The good news is, Rufus Thigpen ain't dead. The bad news is, he can testify against you.”
“For what? I don't know this guy.”
Thigpen raised his unshackled arm and turned his head. A purplish scar ran like a polluted stream from the crown of his skull to the top of an ear. “You busted my head, fuckface. The night you took the kid.”
Steve remembered him now: the psychotic shepherd with the curved stick. He'd had a beard and shoulder-length hair and smelled like a wet beagle.
What was it his father always said? “Our past clings to us like mud on cleated boots.”
“Mr. Thigpen is a victim of your violent behavior,” Zinkavich said. “And quite a compelling witness.”
“Steve Solomon is not a violent man,” Victoria said.
My trusty partner. Leaping to my defense.
“You don't know him well, Ms. Lord,” Zinkavich said. “Not so long ago, he viciously assaulted me in the courthouse. And when he kidnapped the child-”
“I rescued Bobby,” Steve said.
“Quiet,” Victoria told him. “I'll handle this.”
“Regardless of Solomon's motives,” Zinkavich continued, “he committed an aggravated assault, fracturing Mr. Thigpen's skull. It's only a matter of time before he unleashes his temper on the boy.”
“That's bullshit!” Steve took half a step toward Zinkavich, but Victoria elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped.
“Just look at that temper.” Zinkavich wagged a sugary finger at Steve. “You present an imminent threat to your nephew. You refuse medical treatment for him. You drag him to autopsies. Your idea of homeschooling is a subscription to Playboy.” A smirk creased his blubbery cheeks. “Frankly, Solomon, I think you'd have a hard time adopting a poodle, much less a child.”
Steve seethed, but followed his partner's orders. He would keep his big mouth shut. But he couldn't help wondering why Zinkavich was laying out his case. Just like Pincher. The two cases were unrelated, but this seemed oddly orchestrated.
“Before you leave, Solomon, there's someone who wants to see you.”
“Steve Solomon is an excellent parent to Bobby,” Victoria said. “I can attest to that.”
“And I have a rebuttal witness who will give damning testimony as to Mr. Solomon's fitness,” Zinkavich shot back.
“Who?” Victoria asked.
Zinkavich snickered. “Under the rules, I'm not required to tell you.”
“If you know your rebuttal witness in advance, the courteous practice is to disclose,” Victoria said.
“Courteous practice? Aren't you the newbie?” Zinkavich giggled and his belly shifted, straining the buttons on his white shirt. “We don't wear velvet gloves here, Ms. Lord. We go for the jugular.”
“If that's all, we'll be going,” Victoria said.
“Not quite all,” Zinkavich said, hitting a button on his intercom. A moment later, a uniformed cop came into the room and helped Thigpen out of his chair.
“I owe you, fucker,” Thigpen muttered, glaring at Steve, as he shuffled out, shackles clanking.
Zinkavich grabbed another Krispy Kreme, chocolate glazed with candy sprinkles. To Steve, a donut purist, that was overdoing it, like painting lipstick on Mona Lisa. “Due to the exigent circumstances of young Robert living in such a dangerous environment,” Zinkavich said, “I've secured an emergency trial date. Next Monday.”
“Not possible,” Steve said, breaking his vow of silence. “We filed a motion to fast-track Barksdale. That's the day we start trial.”
“That's why we'll go from six P.M. to ten P.M. each night.”
“Doesn't work. I need the evenings to prepare for the next day in court.”
“Not if you plead out the murder case. I have it on good authority that Mr. Pincher has made a generous offer.”
“So that's the game. What do I get in return for selling out Katrina?”
Zinkavich shook his head in feigned disbelief. “If you're suggesting there's a quid pro quo-”
“C'mon, what is it? Bobby? Are we swapping Katrina for Bobby?”
Zinkavich chose his words as carefully as a jeweler chooses his diamonds. “I might be inclined to propose temporary shared custody with you as guardian.”
“What the hell's that mean?”
“Weekdays in a state facility, weekends with you. After a few months of testing and treatment, Robert could live with you full-time.”
“I thought I was too dangerous,” Steve said.
“There'd be anger management counseling and home visits by Family Services, but nothing too intrusive.”
“What a crock.”
“There's something for everybody here,” Zinkavich said. “Mr. Pincher gets his victory in Barksdale and you get your nephew.”
“I was right about you, Zinkavich.”
“Steve, don't,” Victoria warned.
“I had you pegged as a phony from day one,” Steve said, plowing ahead. “A political hack. Somebody who shines Pincher's shoes and reminds him to zip his fly. You don't give a shit about Bobby.”
“Steve, let's go,” Victoria said.
“No, you don't get it, Vic. My old man thought this prick was the real deal. But my instincts were better. My gut was right. Old Herbert was wrong. Do you know how happy that makes me?”
“I'm so pleased you're resolving your father-son issues,” Zinkavich said dryly. “Now, may I assume you're turning down my proposal?”
“You bet your fat ass I am.”
“Fine. Frankly, I would prefer to see you go down hard, which you will. You'll be indicted for aggravated assault, criminal trespass, and kidnapping in Calhoun County. You'll lose your license, your nephew, and what's left of your reputation.”
“Some people are ashamed of their hypocrisy, Fink, but you wear yours like a medal.”
“If there's nothing else, Mr. Zinkavich,” Victoria said, “we'll see you in Juvenile Court next Monday.”
“We?” Zinkavich said.
“I'll be representing Mr. Solomon.”
Steve gave her a look. What happened to “I've never handled a guardianship case”?
“Have you ever tried a juvie case?” Zinkavich asked.
“I'm a trial lawyer, an all-purpose utility player,” she said, echoing Steve's words. “I can play any position, and I'm not afraid of any case or any lawyer.”
Steve felt a strange brew of emotions. Gratitude to Victoria and despair about Bobby. She was coming aboard, but was it a sinking ship? If she had any idea how to win the case, he'd love to hear it, because he had nothing. The two of them would be trying the murder case every day, the guardianship every night, and as far as he could tell, they'd be getting their asses kicked in both.
There was something else strange going on, he thought. Victoria was starting to sound like him, and he was starting to think like her.
“Aligning yourself with Solomon can do you great damage, Ms. Lord,” Zinkavich said.
“Thanks for the career advice,” she said.
“You'll never be a success in this town if people think of you as Solomon's lawyer, or even worse, his partner.”
“I don't care what people think,” she said. “I won't compromise my ideals to achieve someone else's definition of success.” Then she turned to Steve and smiled. “Right, partner?”
Steve's To-Do List
1. Thank Victoria. (Don't overdo it.)
2. Discredit Kranchick. HOW????
3. Neutralize Thigpen. HOW????
4. Zinkavich's rebuttal witness. WHO????
5. Interview Barksdale's divorce lawyer.
6. Buy prosciutto (from Parma).
7. Confront Katrina with her own words: “Two people is one too many for a murder.”
8. Pay Cece. (Postdate check.)
9. Tell Bobby you love him (every day).
10. Tell Victoria how you feel about her.