The Hearing

No response.

'This might be it. All I'm asking is give me a half-hour.'

Another long pause. Then the voice more matter-of-fact, a decision reached. 'I got an appointment coming up I've got to make. It's on this. After that I thought I'd go down and see the lieutenant around the end of visiting hours, maybe nine, nine thirty.'

'As it happens, I was going to stop by and see him after dinner myself.'

It was a way for Ridley to justify what he was about to do. That appeared to be what he needed. 'So it would just be a coincidence if we both got there around the same time?'

The weather had cleared and warmed up slightly. Not that it was balmy by any stretch, but the biting damp wind of the past week or so had abated, and now the air was calm, the stars bright overhead.

Hardy and Frannie had miraculously gotten a table without advance reservations at Pan Y Vino, a long-time favorite Italian place just up from the Marina, and when they finished, they decided to take a walk. They'd already discussed what seemed to be every possible permutation in the lives of their children, Frannie's progress with her school applications – she'd gotten them all off – the terrific food they were eating, Moses, Abe, his health and his children. Even Treya Ghent. And what had that been about, the degree of personal involvement in her showing up at the hospital?

This was what date night was for – to catch up, to stay in touch. Personal lives.

They were holding hands, strolling with the mass of other pedestrians up Union Street. It wasn't yet eight thirty. Occasionally, they would stop and look in a window at something. Eventually, Frannie squeezed her husband's hand. Smiling, she looked over at him.

'I'm sorry? What?' he asked.

'I was saying, "… and then my grandmother died". I think that must have been what you heard, that woke you up.'

'Sorry,' he said again. 'I guess I'm a little distracted.'

But she didn't want to criticize him. 'All right,' she said, 'you've been the soul of patience. We can declare the date over if you want, talk about whatever it is.'

Out of the topics they could talk about, in the first years of date night, one had come to predominate – Hardy's work. From time to time, he would become so involved in his cases that he would suggest they drive together to crime scenes, or maybe stop by the jail to interview his client. They would theorize cases to death over meals that neither of them tasted.

Finally, they had outlawed discussing his cases during date night. It still did creep in but generally the law was respected and, in fact, treasured.

But she was right. Tonight Hardy's input to the various family and personal discussions was minimal at best. Distracted was hardly the word. She already knew that he and Freeman had made some crucial strides on one of his cases at lunch. There was some inkling that much of his involvement in several cases might be related somehow. He would be seeing Glitsky within the hour, getting new information from Ridley Banks. The connection between the relationships might become clear. It was all he could think about.

'I just don't want to waste Ridley's time with stupid questions,' he said by way of explanation. 'He's not going to want to help me without Abe anyway. I don't want to wind up threatening him, getting him all defensive, scaring him away.'

'How would you do that?'

'I start talking about the videotape on Cole, the confession, and he's gone.'

'Why?'

'Because Ridley's the one who got it. He's still standing by it, but this new overdose makes it a little funky. He doesn't really know why and neither do I, but it's there. And also, Abe's lost his job over it and then nearly died. All that may or may not be related, but either way, Ridley's conflicted.'

'And you hope to straighten him out?'

Hardy nodded. 'With my decent legal mind, at least identify the issues. Maybe.'

'Which are?'

He stopped walking and stepped out of the stream of foot traffic. It was still chilly enough that his sigh produced a visible plume of vapor. 'That's the problem. I don't know, Fran. I've been wracking my brain all day, especially since I ran into Dash Logan connected with Elaine, which of course is Cole's case. But I'm not convinced he's killed anybody. And I really don't see any connection between Elaine and Rich McNeil. None of it makes any sense. None of it relates except for Logan, who seems to be in the middle of all of it.'

'Well,' Frannie said, 'if Abe's got the doubts, and now Ridley – and neither of them are exactly pro-defense – then maybe you'd better start considering that Cole is telling you the truth.'

'It wasn't unconsciousness? He just happened upon her after somebody else did her?'

She shrugged. 'It could have happened.'

'"Could have happened" doesn't meet much of a legal standard, Fran. I can't argue that in front of a jury.'

'How about just a judge? How about at the hearing?'

Hardy didn't even have to think – he shook his head no. 'The hearing's a formality. The standard is probable cause, not reasonable doubt. Torrey demonstrates that – and the confession alone ought to be enough on that score – and that's it. We go to trial.'

'I know, I know, but listen…' Her eyes were alight with the idea. 'There's something about this particular case that's causing all kinds of confusion even among you professionals, right? You've got to admit that. I mean, Abe getting put on leave over it? Come on, that is not normal. Now Ridley Banks agreeing to talk to you. Even you yourself and your decent mind.'

'Decent legal mind. The rest of it's often pretty indecent.'

'OK, still. I'm saying you might be able to get a judge to feel that way too. Not a jury, but one person. If you could get all the questions out in front of one of them.'

His eyes had turned inward. A couple of times he seemed about to speak, but the thread eluded him. Finally, he looked at her. 'The problem is, Fran… that presupposes that he didn't do it after all, and I think he did.' He put up a hand to stop her from breaking in. 'I'm not saying he meant to. I don't think he planned it. Maybe even as he did it, he didn't get it. But I'll tell you something: he sure had means, motive, and opportunity. He's got the opposite of an alibi.' His voice was becoming harsh, unyielding. 'He's exactly the kind of pathetic loser who makes mistakes and ruins lives and then really, truly wishes he hadn't done it. Maybe even to the point of believing his own lies. But frankly, I think he deserves to be punished for it. Not death. Not even life without since nobody else in San Francisco gets it. That's why I took the case at all. But he ought to get a good long spell in the slammer, during which maybe he'll come to have a little bit of a clue.'

'But probably not.'

'Probably not,' Hardy agreed. 'Law of averages, probably not.'

'So you're going to try for unconsciousness?'

His eyes flashed impatiently. 'And that, Fran, would be a major triumph.'

'Even if he didn't do it?'

'He did do it!'

'He says he didn't, doesn't he?'

'Everybody says they didn't. Smart lawyers don't even ask.'

'But if the best defense the law allows is proving he didn't kill Elaine, that he's telling the truth after all, don't you have to try for that? Otherwise, maybe you should give him to somebody else.'

'I'm not giving him to anybody else!'

She let him live with that for a second. 'When you talk to Abe and Ridley, maybe you ought to really listen to what they say.'

'That was my actual plan, believe it or not. What did you think I was going to do?'

She looked into his eyes. Her voice was gentle, without any threat in it. 'I thought you might be looking for something to argue, not something to believe.'

She rarely saw any sign of her husband's Irish temper. It surprised her that he was on the edge of losing it now. Over Cole Burgess? It made no sense unless the boy had come to represent something beyond himself.