Free Lucky Leonardo by Jonathan D. Canter

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    â€œAbigail,” Drunkmiller said in a low voice when he reached her, extending his hand in greeting, “how have you been?”
    â€œFine, Martin, nice to see you,” she said, rising from her seat and shaking his hand. She stood between him and Leonardo.
    â€œI understand you represent defendant Leonardo Cook,” Drunkmiller said.
    â€œI do,” she answered. “He’s right here.” She turned a bit to expose a slice of Leonardo.
    â€œHow do you do?” Drunkmiller inquired.
    â€œFine, thank you,” Leonardo replied.
    â€œI represent the Binhs,” Drunkmiller said.
    â€œYes. Eugene and Susan H.,” said Abigail. “I’ve read your pleadings. How is Eugene’s recuperation progressing?”
    â€œHe continues to be in great pain,” Drunkmiller said.
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that,” Abigail said. “Please tell him that we wish him a speedy and complete recovery.”
    â€œThank you,” Drunkmiller said. “If he could move his jaw he might say thank you himself. May I speak with you for a minute, outside?”
    â€œOf course,” Abigail answered. “Stay here and don’t talk to any strangers,” Leonardo thought she whispered to him as she left with Drunkmiller, which felt like the famous time he was abandoned in the children’s shoe department with the menacing clown. I haven’t seen you for a while he said to the clown who joined him on the bench as he mopped sweat from his brow with one hand and kept the other at his mouth just in case.
    When she, Abigail, finally returned—prompting the clown to return to being a bulbous-headed lawyer—the judge was listening to attorneys argue the first case on the list, something about a bank account, and a wire transfer, and a missed deadline, and a lot of trouble, a world of trouble, and did the judge just say something about a menacing clown?
    â€œLeonardo,” Abigail whispered, “come outside with me for a minute.”
    â€œSure.”
    When they were in the hallway, by themselves, she said, “Listen to this. Martin—Attorney Drunkmiller—says he’s not out to get you, he’s out to get DeltaTek. He asks if you want to make a deal…”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œâ€¦to help him get DeltaTek.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œHe sees you as the star witness.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œHe wants you to be a friendly star witness.”
    â€œYou mean if I say things happened the way he wants me to say things happened…”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œâ€¦but what if things didn’t happen that way?”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œWhat would he do for me?”
    â€œHe didn’t say. It would be a negotiation.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œHe wants to interview you, or depose you, to get your story. He’ll postpone today’s hearing.”
    â€œI…I…What do you think?”
    The courtroom door swung open. The clerk emerged. “Your case is called,” the clerk said to Abigail.
    â€œThank you,” she said to him, “I’ll be right there.” To Leonardo she said, “I’m happy with a month postponement, no strings attached. Can’t hurt. We’ll find out where your malpractice carrier is. We’ll find out where DeltaTek is. If Martin—Attorney Drunkmiller—wants to talk to us during the month, fine. OK?”
    â€œUmmm…”
    â€œOK?”
    â€œOK.”
    Abigail strode back into the courtroom. Drunkmiller stood at one of the two counsel tables in front of the judge, waiting. Abigail placed herself at the other. She addressed the judge: “Your honor, may I have a minute to confer with my brother?”
    â€œOne minute,” said the judge.
    Abigail whispered to Drunkmiller. He nodded. Abigail walked back to her table. “Your honor,” she said, “the parties agree to continue this motion hearing for one month. Is that