Sons of Fortune

“I don’t want you anywhere near the place, because you’ll only fall in love with her.”

“You really care about this girl, don’t you?” said Tom quietly.

“I think she’s divine, but that doesn’t stop her being very uncertain about me.”

“But she’s agreed to have dinner with you, so she can’t believe you’re all bad.”

“Yes, but the terms of that agreement were somewhat unusual,” said Nat as he told Tom what he had proposed before she would agree to a date.

“As I said, you’ve got it bad, but that doesn’t alter the fact that I need to see you. How about breakfast? Or will you also be having eggs and bacon with this mysterious Oriental lady?”

“I’d be very surprised if she agreed to that,” said Nat wistfully. “And disappointed.”

“How long do you expect the trial to last?” asked Annie.

“If we plead not guilty to murder, but guilty to manslaughter, it could be over in a morning, with perhaps a further court appearance for sentencing.”

“Is that possible?” asked Jimmy.

“Yes, the state is offering me a deal.”

“What sort of deal?” asked Annie.

“If I agree to a charge of manslaughter, Stamp will only call for three years, no more, which means with good behavior and parole, Anita Kirsten could be out in eighteen months. Otherwise he intends to press for first degree and demand the death penalty.”

“They would never send a woman to the electric chair in this state for killing her husband.”

“I agree,” said Fletcher, “but a tough jury might settle for ninety-nine years, and as the defendant is only twenty-five, I have to accept the fact that she might be better off agreeing to eighteen months; at least that way she could look forward to spending the rest of her life with her family.”

“True,” said Jimmy. “But I ask myself, why is the attorney general willing to agree to three years if he feels he’s got such a strong case? Don’t forget this is a black woman, accused of murdering a white man, and at least two members of the jury will be black. If you play your cards right, it could be three, and then you can almost guarantee a hung jury.”

“Plus the fact that my client has a good reputation, holds down a responsible job, and has no previous convictions. That’s bound to influence any jury, whatever color.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Annie. “Your client poisoned her husband with an overdose of curare, which caused paralysis and then she sat on the staircase waiting for him to die.”

“But he’d been beating her up for years—and he also abused their children,” said Fletcher.

“Do you have any proof of that, counselor?” asked Jimmy.

“Not a lot, but on the day she agreed to appoint me, I took several photographs of the bruises on her body, and the burn on the palm of her hand will remain with her for the rest of her l

ife.”

“How did she get that?” asked Annie.

“That bastard of a husband pressed her hand down on a burning stove, and only stopped when she fainted.”

“Sounds like a lovely guy,” said Annie. “So what’s stopping you pleading manslaughter and pressing for extenuating circumstances?”

“Only the fear of losing, and Mrs. Kirsten having to spend the rest of her life in jail.”

“Why did she ask you to be her defense counsel in the first place?” asked Jimmy.

“No one else stepped up to the plate,” replied Fletcher. “And in any case, she found my fee irresistible.”

“But you’re up against the state’s attorney.”

“Which is a bit of a mystery, because I can’t work out why he’s bothering to represent the state in a case like this.”