Free First Degree by David Rosenfelt

answer again. I know long answers are important to you, and since I adore and worship you, I will keep speaking until you tell me to shut up.”
    “Shut up,” she says.

I ARRIVE AT COURT WELL BEFORE THE PRELIMINARY hearing is scheduled to begin. I’m simultaneously feeling dread at having to handle this case and excitement about being back handling any case at all. The excitement must be winning out, because I usually barely make it to court on time, and today I’m so early I could tailgate in the parking lot.
    Oscar isn’t here yet, so I call Kevin Randall at the office and apologize for not being able to meet him there. I quickly bring Kevin up to date on the situation, and he has the decency not to verbalize his surprise that I took this case at all. I give him the task of going to see the coroner who handled Dorsey’s body and to find out whatever relevant details there are, including the estimated time of death.
    Kevin has a whole bunch of positive qualities, but the one I appreciate most is his total reliability. When he takes on an assignment, I can check it off my list; he will get it done and done well.
    Kevin is a topflight attorney with loads of experience on both the defense and prosecution sides. Unfortunately, both caused him conscience problems. As a prosecutor, he was afraid his considerable talents might cause an innocent person to go to prison. As a defense attorney, he feared he might be helping dangerous criminals return to the streets.
    He finally resolved this by quitting the law and opening the “Lawdromat,” where customers can wash their clothes and get free legal advice. Laurie knows Kevin well, and on her advice I took him on as second chair on the Willie Miller case. He’s been coming in a couple of days a week ever since, with the understanding that he’ll help me on future cases, providing there’s no fabric softener crisis that demands his time.
    I meet with Oscar in an anteroom for a few minutes to explain the procedures. He has some experience in this field, so he catches on pretty quickly. This appearance is basically a formality, strictly done to inform him of the charges, register his plea, and consider bail. Dylan has already impaneled a grand jury to formally charge Oscar, and as always, the grand jury will do the prosecutor’s bidding. Oscar’s sole responsibility for this appearance is to sit up straight, look respectable, and say firmly and clearly, “Not guilty,” when called upon to give his plea.
    When the guards come to escort Oscar into the courtroom, I walk with him. We are almost at the defense table when he says—to himself, I think—“What the hell is that bitch doing here?”
    I look in the direction that Oscar is looking, and he seems to be staring toward Laurie, who is standing in the back of the room. “Who are you talking about?” I ask as we continue walking.
    “The bitch in the blue dress.” There is no question he is talking about Laurie.
    “Watch your mouth when you’re talking about her,” I say. It is a silly, unnecessary, but involuntary act of verbal chivalry.
    We reach the defense table and sit down. “You mean you know her?” he asks.
    “I do.”
    “Well, let me tell you something, man. You know that list you wanted from me, of my enemies? People who would frame me? Well, she’s number one, right on top.”
    “You’re dreaming, Oscar.”
    “Yeah, well, she’s been following me, watching me all the time. Like I can’t get rid of her. And a friend of mine said she was hanging near my apartment the other day when I was out.”
    I trust Oscar about as far as I can throw Mount Rushmore, but I instinctively know that he is telling the truth about this. He has no real reason to lie, and it fits in with Laurie’s cryptic comment about having knowledge of Oscar’s criminal progress since she left the force.
    I don’t have time to reflect on the possible implications of Oscar’s comment, because I find myself staring at the sweaty