Free Kill All the Lawyers by Paul Levine Page B

and shirt stuck to the vinyl seats, though the heat didn't seem to bother the driver, who was sitting on one of those beaded back supports.
    "You sounded like a horse's ass on the radio today." Herbert Solomon sat at the kitchen table, sipping kosher red wine and eviscerating his son. "A real putz. "
    "Thanks for the support, Dad." Steve was not up for his father's abuse. It had been a shitty day, and it wasn't over yet. In an hour, he would have to put on a smiley face and brush-kiss Irene Lord. The Queen. Victoria's mother. A woman so cold and imperious she made Martha Stewart seem warm and cuddly.
    "Ah bailed you out, didn't ah?"
    "I was released on my own recognizance. All you did was call the judge."
    "That's a helluva lot."
    "You could have driven downtown and picked me up from the jail."
    "Not after sundown, boychik."
    "Why, you got night blindness?"
    " Shabbos, you shmoe !"
    "What is it, open-bar night at temple?"
    "Wouldn't hurt you to come along. Say a Sh'ma or two."
    So that explained his father's outfit. A double-breasted blue blazer, rep tie with khaki walking shorts and sneakers. Ever since the old man went ortho, he began adhering to the rule of not driving between sundown Friday and sundown Saturday. Now, looking like a demented Englishman in the midday sun, he was ready for the three-mile trek to Temple Judea.
    "It's Irene's birthday," Steve said. "Otherwise, I'd be right there with you in the front row."
    "Hah. You don't even know where the shul is."
    "On Granada, right across Dixie Highway from the ball field." The ball field being Mark Light Stadium at the University of Miami, where Steve couldn't hit a lick but semi-starred as a pinch runner and base stealer. He also occasionally attended class, majoring in theater and minoring in the swimming pool. Herbert had wanted Steve to study political science or pre-law, something that might lead to the legal profession. But the word in the dorm was that the hottest girls were in theater. Enough said. Steve brushed up his Shakespeare and headed for the Ring Theater, which was conveniently located next to the campus Rathskellar.
    Only later did Steve realize that the acting skills he accidentally learned would be useful in court. As an undergrad, he played the cynical reporter E. K. Hornbeck in Inherit the Wind, a role that came easily. Then he was Teach in American Buffalo, a part he enjoyed mainly because he got to say a lot of fuck you's. His senior year, Steve played the older brother, Biff, in Death of a Salesman. A jock with early promise, Biff's life crumbled when he discovered that his father was a fraud.
    "Pop's going to kill himself! Don't you know that?"
    At virtually the same time Steve cried out that line, his own father—Herbert Solomon, not Willy Loman—was being hauled before the Grand Jury. Looking back, Steve knew his onstage tears were real.
    For much the same reason he studied theater—hot coeds—Steve joined the campus chapter of the ACLU. The prevailing wisdom then was that liberal chicks were easier to bag than, say, the Young Republican Women for Chastity. The ACLU meetings gave him a feel for the underdog. All considered, the acting lessons and liberal politics provided solid, if unintentional, training for the life of a solo practitioner in the mystical art of the Law.
    "So what's your plan?" Herbert asked.
    "For Irene's birthday? We're going to Joe's for stone crabs."
    "For Kreeger!"
    "I'm working on it, Dad. He claims he wants to hang out with me."
    "What'd Ah tell you? Murderers need pals, too."
    "Except it sounded more like a threat. Be my pal— or else."
    "So what's your plan?" Herbert pressed him.
    Steve didn't know how much to tell his father. His father's parenting had swung between benign neglect and caustic criticism. And now, that old fear resurfaced. Ridicule and rejection. Not measuring up.
    "I need to get down to the Keys. Find a witness."
    "What for?"
    Steve decided to go for it. His ego had pretty much survived all the