Free The 7th Canon by Robert Dugoni

an obligation not to let Lou lose his biggest client on his watch. “I understand, but that’s not something you need to decide at this moment. If I have to, I can bring in co-counsel.” Donley put a hand on the edge of the big desk. “I’m not your typical third-year lawyer, Archbishop. I’ve had more than forty trials. Let me meet with the DA and hear what he has to say. What is it you’re looking for right at this moment?”
    Parnisi sighed. “I need someone who will cut through the political crap and legal rhetoric and tell me what is in Father Martin’s best interest. I’d prefer not to take advice from Gil Ramsey. I’d look out the window if he called to tell me it was raining.”
    Donley looked to the window and smiled. “It’s not raining, Archbishop.”
    Parnisi smiled.
    “I can handle it,” Donley said. “I’ll talk to Ramsey, and I’ll evaluate the evidence. I’ll be as straight with you as I know Lou has always been.”
    “I’m not sure that’s a positive. Lou’s roughed me up a bit over the years.” Parnisi sat back, the pipe again clenched between his teeth, considering Donley through the blue-gray haze.

Chapter 8
    Gil Ramsey watched Linda St. Claire literally come out of her chair. “You’re going to LWOP a murderer?” she asked, using the acronym for a plea of life without parole .
    “I didn’t say we’re going to offer anything.”
    Ramsey had politicked on a tough-on-crime platform, and it was well known he did not plea-bargain a first-degree-murder charge. “But given the potential problems with the evidence, it would be irresponsible not to consider alternatives.”
    “The press will crucify us,” St. Claire said, now pacing his office.
    “No, they’ll crucify us if you don’t get a conviction.”
    She bristled. “I’ll convict the son of a bitch. Just get me twelve jurors and a courtroom.”
    “Are you going to guarantee that?” He raised a hand to stop her before she could respond. “You better think before you answer that question, because there’s a hell of a lot riding on this . . . for both of us.”
    St. Claire turned her back like a chastised nine-year-old. Her desire was to succeed Ramsey as district attorney.
    “If the defense accepts life without the possibility of parole, the matter will be over before it—or the press—finds out about the problems with the evidence,” Ramsey said, hating the fact that he was parroting his father’s admonition from earlier that morning. “We’ll all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and Father Martin goes away for life, where he can never hurt anyone again.”
    St. Claire shook her head. “I can’t even fathom you’d consider making such an offer.”
    Ramsey sat forward. “That’s because your ego is clogging your ears. You’re not hearing me. I’m not suggesting we offer anything. That’s exactly why I assigned you to handle this. Your reputation will confirm we intend to seek the death penalty. I’ve just issued a statement to the media hinting that the evidence against Father Martin is substantial. The press won’t crucify us; they’ll help us. Whoever represents Father Martin will get an immediate and strong dose of reality. Father Martin is going to the gas chamber if they don’t do something to prevent it.”
    St. Claire stopped pacing and considered him. “You want his attorney to request a deal in exchange for a guilty plea.”
    Ramsey shrugged. “One would hope a good lawyer would see the wisdom of it.”
    “So, how do we do that? How do we get his attorney to think we’d consider a deal without hinting at it? Nobody in the public defender’s office would think it a possibility.”
    “I put in a call to the archbishop this morning and requested a meeting.”
    St. Claire sat. “I would have assumed the church would run from this as fast and far as possible.”
    “And ordinarily that assumption would be accurate, but as I said, you don’t know Donatello