Free The Pelican Brief by John Grisham Page B

enough exceptions to astound any scholar. In seven attempts, he had voted with the Indians five times. He had written three majority opinions strongly protective of the environment. He was near perfect in support of tax protestors.
    But there were no clues. Jensen was too erratic to take seriously. Compared to the other eight, he was harmless.
    She finished another warm Fresca, and put away for the moment her notes on Jensen. Her watch was hidden in a drawer. She had no idea what time it was. Callahan had sobered up and wanted a late dinner at Mr. B’s in the Quarter. She needed to call him.
    ________
    Dick Mabry, the current speechwriter and word wizard, sat in a chair beside the President’s desk and watched as Fletcher Coal and the President read the third draft of a proposed eulogy for Justice Jensen. Coal had rejected the first two, and Mabry was stilluncertain about what they wanted. Coal would suggest one thing. The President wanted something else. Earlier in the day, Coal had called and said to forget the eulogy because the President would not attend the funeral. Then the President had called, and asked him to prepare a few words because Jensen was a friend and even though he was a queer he was still a friend.
    Mabry knew Jensen was not a friend, but he was a freshly assassinated justice who would enjoy a highly visible funeral.
    Then Coal had called and said they weren’t sure if the President was going but work up something just in case. Mabry’s office was in the Old Executive Office Building next door to the White House, and during the day small bets had been placed on whether the President would attend the funeral of a known homosexual. The office odds were three to one that he would not.
    “Much better, Dick,” Coal said, folding the paper.
    “I like it too,” the President said. Mabry had noticed that the President usually waited for Coal to express approval or displeasure over his words.
    “I can try again,” Mabry said, standing.
    “No, no,” Coal insisted. “This has the right touch. Very poignant. I like it.”
    He walked Mabry to the door and closed it behind him.
    “What do you think?” the President asked.
    “Let’s call it off. I’m getting bad vibes. Publicity would be great, but you’d be speaking these beautiful words over a body found in a gay porno house. Too risky.”
    “Yeah. I think you’re—”
    “This is our crisis, Chief. The ratings continue to improve, and I just don’t want to take a chance.”
    “Should we send someone?”
    “Of course. What about the Vice President?”
    “Where is he?”
    “Flying in from Guatemala. He’ll be in tonight.” Coal suddenly smiled to himself. “This is great VP stuff, you know. A gay funeral.”
    The President chuckled. “Perfect.”
    Coal stopped smiling and began pacing in front of the desk. “Slight problem. Rosenberg’s service is Saturday, only eight blocks from here.”
    “I’d rather go to hell for a day.”
    “I know. But your absence would be very conspicuous.”
    “I could check into Walter Reed with back spasms. It worked before.”
    “No, Chief. Reelection is next year. You must stay away from hospitals.”
    The President slapped both hands on his desk and stood. “Dammit, Fletcher! I can’t go to his service because I can’t keep from smiling. He was hated by ninety percent of the American people. They’ll love me if I don’t go.”
    “Protocol, Chief. Good taste. You’ll be burned by the press if you don’t go. Look, it won’t hurt, okay. You don’t have to say a word. Just ease in and out, look real sad, and allow the cameras to get a good look. Won’t take an hour.”
    The President was gripping his putter and crouching over an orange ball. “Then I’ll have to go to Jensen’s.”
    “Exactly. But forget the eulogy.” He putted.
    “I met him only twice, you know.”
    “I know. Let’s quietly attend both services, say nothing, then disappear.”
    He putted again. “I think you’re