Emil colored. "I see."
"You didn't hear this from me, right?" the secretary said, lowering her voice.
"Right."
"You'd never print anything we talk about, right?"
"Of course not, Flossie. We're friends, you and I."
"Well, I think she went to see her boyfriend last night. That's the only time she pulls a disappearing act. She hasn't taken off much lately, so I thought it was over. Maybe not, though. Guess they reconciled and she couldn't get out of bed."
"Love weaves a spell when you're young," Emil said, and back at the couch, Bennie wanted to throw up.
"Oh, this isn't love." The secretary leaned over confidentially and whispered, "I think he's married."
"No," Emil said, with genuine disapproval. He was the most traditional man Bennie knew, and she would have bet that he wasn't the one frying the grape leaves.
"Yes. I'm sure of it. In summer, she used to take off early on weekends. She'd come back tan and wouldn't say who she went with. She never brought back any pictures."
"Can she be reached? Who is this man?"
"Damned if I know." The secretary leaned over farther. "You know, I tried to find out once. I was curious and finally I just asked her, straight out. 'Are you seeing anyone?' I said to her. Just straight."
"Good. It's best to be honest and straightforward."
"Sure it is. I've worked for her for two years now, and we never talk or anything. You think she'd have lunch with me? Never. Anyway, know what she said when I asked her? She said, 'I don't discuss that with subordinates.' "
Emil's face fell. "How unkind."
"Tell me about it. 'Subordinates!' She said she was quoting somebody named Sun Zoo something. So I said to her, 'Who the hell is Sun Zoo? It sounds like a suntan cream or something.' "
Back on the couch, Bennie's ears pricked up. Sun Zoo? Where had she heard that lately?
"Sun-Tzu?" Emil said. "He was a Chinese philosopher. A general."
"That's right. That's what she said. I told her, 'I don't know from Chinese generals, honey, but I know common courtesy and you don't have any.' Imagine! I'm gonna transfer back to the prothonotary's office as soon as they post it."
Suddenly Bennie remembered. In the conference room at the office, when she was talking to Carrier and DiNunzio. What had Carrier said? If you spend any time with Elliot Steere, sooner or later he hauls out Sun-Tzu.
Bennie sat bolt upright on the couch. The picture came into instant focus. Jen Pressman had a secret boyfriend, but he wasn't married. He was Elliot Steere. She'd have to keep it quiet because he was the mayor's nemesis. In that moment, Bennie realized the whole scam. It wasn't exactly the way she thought. In fact, it was quite the opposite. But there was no time left. She jumped up and headed for the door.
"Bennie?" Emil asked, turning.
"Gotta fry some grape leaves, Emil," she said, and bolted out the door.
60
Judge Rudolph was presiding, though when he looked down from the mahogany dais he didn't see a packed courtroom, he saw a running track with hurdles. The finish line was straight ahead, marked by a fluttering red, white, and blue banner that read JUSTICE HARRY CALVIN RUDOLPH. At the defense table, Elliot Steere watched him intently, and the prosecutors looked alert. In the stands, all eyes were on him. Everyone was quiet and waiting for the starter's pistol. On your mark, get set, go! Crack!
"Gentlemen," the judge said, "I called you here because of an emergency that has arisen in the jury. One of the jurors has taken ill with a stomach virus and had to be sent to the hospital. The Court has been informed by another juror, acting as substitute foreperson, that the jury may be very close to delivering a verdict in this matter. The alternates have already been sent home, and by now have undoubtedly been tainted by exposure to publicity. Therefore, the issue before the Court is whether the jury should be permitted to proceed to verdict without the juror who has fallen ill."
Elliot Steere sat at the defense table and not a muscle on his body moved. His juror had acted. His acquittal was assured. His victory was complete. He breathed slowly, in and out, and his heartbeat thumped steadily. In his ears he heard the rhythms of his own life force. Sun-Tzu taught that victory goes to those who do not miscalculate, and Steere had not miscalculated. He had prepared for this victory and so it was at hand.
"Under Pennsylvania law," Judge Rudolph continued, "the jury in a murder trial may proceed to verdict with a vote of less than twelve jurors only if the defendant and the Commonwealth agree. The defendant had a constitutional right to a verdict by a jury of twelve, and such right can be waived. The Court is holding this hearing this morning in order to determine how the parties wish to proceed."
At the prosecutor's table sat Assistant District Attorney Tom Moran, and this time he was wide awake. The district attorney of the City of Philadelphia, Bill Masterson, was seated on his right, so close their padded shoulders grazed. Masterson was basketball-player tall, big-boned and ruddy-faced, with a thatch of gray-blond hair and fierce blue eyes. Nobody could sit next to Bill Masterson and be unaware of his power, especially a young father of twins who had already fucked up once. Tom needed his job, now more than ever.
Judge Rudolph prepared to jump the first hurdle. "Mr. Steere, you are the defendant in this matter, and this court has at every juncture been careful to safeguard your rights under the law, especially since you have chosen to proceed as your own counsel. Do you have any questions so far?"
"No."
"Do you understand the question that is being put to you? The Court must determine if you wish to waive your right to a verdict rendered by a jury of twelve."
"I understand that, Your Honor."
"I will conduct the required colloquy to confirm that you understand your rights, but would you like to consult with an attorney before we begin? I see that Mr. LeFort of the Cable and Bess firm is in the gallery." Judge Rudolph acknowledged the expensive lawyer with a nod. "If you wish to consult with Mr. LeFort or one of his partners, the Court would be happy to recess for fifteen minutes."
"I do not wish to consult with Mr. LeFort, Your Honor. It's a straightforward question. I can give you my answer right now. I want my case to proceed to verdict as soon as possible, Your Honor, even if that means I accept the verdict of less than the full complement of jurors. I wish to waive my right to a verdict by a jury of twelve."
The gallery burst into excited chatter. Judge Rudolph's gaze slipped to the back of the courtroom and he banged the gavel. Crack! "I'll have none of that in my courtroom. Keep a lid on it, ladies and gentlemen, or there will be expulsions. Mr. Steere, do you understand that you have the right to ask for a mistrial?"
"Your Honor, I do not want a mistrial. I do not want any further delays in my trial. I have been in prison for a long time. I have a business to run when I am released."
"Thank you, Mr. Steere." Judge Rudolph imagined himself leaping over the first hurdle and landing on the other side without breaking stride. One down, one to go. The judge turned to the prosecution table. "Mr. Moran, I see that you are joined this morning by District Attorney William Masterson. Welcome, Mr. Masterson."
"Good morning, Your Honor," Masterson said.
Judge Rudolph acknowledged the powerful lawyer with a nod. The judge knew that the D.A. wanted his job and had kissed enough of the right asses to get it when the judge ascended to the Supreme Court. Without a word being exchanged, both men knew a baton would pass, but only if the judge won his final leg of the relay. "Mr. Masterson, will you be speaking for the Commonwealth this morning or will Mr. Moran be doing the honors?"
"Mr. Moran will," Masterson boomed. He grinned broadly and made a note on a legal pad. "I'm just here for the ride. Mr. Moran likes my company."
The gallery laughed and the reporters scribbled. Judge Rudolph smiled indulgently. Very funny. Take my job, please. "Fine." The judge prepared for the second hurdle. "Does the Commonwealth have any objection to this case proceeding to verdict with less than twelve jurors, in view of the circumstances, Mr. Moran?"