Free Kill All the Lawyers by Paul Levine

out?" Kreeger asked.
    Steve took a long breath, said nothing. On the speakers, the news anchor was giving the fishing report. Mackerel were running. Snapper, on the other hand, were merely swimming.
    "Right in the middle of my trial," Kreeger continued, "the State Attorney files a notice about a so-called similar incident. What's it called?"
    "Williams Rule material," Steve said. "The state can introduce similar incidents from a defendant's past to show a pattern of conduct."
    "Yeah. Poor Jim Beshears drowns down in the Keys. And years later, wretched Nancy Lamm drowns in my hot tub. Kind of a stretch tying those two together, don't you think, Counselor?"
    "Not when each person got hit on the head with a pole you happened to be holding. The judge thought the first incident was similar enough to be admissible."
    "My quibble's not with the judge, Solomon."
    In the background, Steve could hear a commercial for a local dating service for overworked and horny executives.
    "One day, when the appeal was pending," Kreeger went on, "I looked through every piece of paper in the file. You know what I found? Two copies of the police report of the boat accident. One attached to the State Attorney's brief and one in your file."
    "So what? Pincher was required to give me a copy when he filed his Williams Rule notice."
    "Right. Except your copy had an earlier time stamp. You had the police report first and you gave Pincher a photocopy. You dropped the dime on your own client."
    Steve didn't say a word. There could be a tape recorder rolling. They were, after all, in a recording studio.
    The damn time stamps. He'd been sloppy, Steve realized. Well, what could you expect? He'd never sold out a client before.
    "At first," Kreeger said, "I was mad enough to kill you. And you, of all people, know I'm capable, right? Then I realized you do whatever it takes. You live by your own code. You violated your attorney's oath in order to put your own client away." Kreeger rumbled a laugh. It sounded like coal pouring down a chute. "I get goose bumps just thinking about it. You put my theories into practice, Solomon. We're like long-lost brothers, you and I."
    "I don't kill people."
    "Not yet." Another laugh. Then, with what seemed like dead-earnest sincerity, Kreeger said, "We're gonna be great friends. We're gonna spend some quality time together."
    "The hell we are."
    "C'mon, Solomon. You owe me that much. In fact, you owe me six years. There I was, eating all that starchy food, living in a cell with a metal toilet, and you were out here enjoying the good life. You've got yourself a lady. What's her name? Victoria, right? I look forward to meeting her. And you have your nephew with you. Robert. Has some medical problems, doesn't he?
    And you had a bit of a dustup with the state over custody. Well, you'd better keep your record clean. Wouldn't want to upset those hard-asses at Family Services. And how's your father, by the way? Judge Solomon drinking too much these days?"
    There are lots of ways to threaten someone, Steve thought. At one end of the spectrum, your lawyer can send a letter, advising that you intend to use all lawful means to enforce your legal rights. At the other end, you can jam the barrel of a gun into someone's mouth, breaking off teeth and yelling you're going to blow their brains all over the wall. Or you can take a middle ground. You can mention everyone in the world the person loves and just leave it at that. Steve felt his face heat up, and his stomach clenched itself into a fist.
    "Stay away from them, Kreeger. Stay the hell away or I'll cut you into little pieces and feed you to the sharks."
    "Doubt it. Like you said, Steve, you're not a killer."
    "And like you said: Not yet."
    "Pardon me for not peeing on my socks, but I've just spent six years in a rattlesnake nest and never got bit."
    "Maybe your next stay, you won't be so lucky."
    "Now, why would I go back to prison?"
    "It's just a matter of time before you feel wronged by