Free A Handy Death by Robert L. Fish

stopped in the street by a drunk who tries to bend his ear with a sad story of how tough it is to get a drink in New York. What does that man do? He shakes off the drunk and gets away from there; the last thing he does is invite the drunk up to his apartment to sober him up. In this town? Al Hogan could have made mincemeat of Neeley on the stand. Not only have gotten Billy off, but probably have given Neeley some grief with the law.”
    Steve nodded slowly. “Then why didn’t he think of it?” He suddenly remembered something and looked a bit sheepish. “Although, to tell the truth, I didn’t see it myself.”
    â€œAl Hogan would have seen it as quickly as I did,” Ross said. “Which simply means he didn’t use the defense because Billy Dupaul wouldn’t let him. Billy had fired one attorney, and was probably ready to fire another if he felt he had to. And poor Al Hogan needed the work. Which could also mean …” He paused, thinking.
    Sharon said, “Which could mean what?”
    â€œIt could mean that Dupaul, quite possibly, was telling the truth—or at least the truth as he saw it. Which, unfortunately, isn’t always the same thing.” Ross nodded his head. “Well, it’s something to think about. Let’s get on. What finally happened in that bar?”
    â€œThe man Dupaul was fighting—this Riess—went down from a blow from Dupaul and struck his head on the edge of one of the kegs Dupaul had been lugging in when the argument started. The man fractured his skull. The prosecution dug up a witness who claimed he saw Dupaul pull out his bung-starter, which can be claimed to be a weapon. The prosecution pushed that point, of course, and also brought in Dupaul’s first conviction—”
    Steve saw the expression on Ross’s face, and nodded.
    â€œYes, sir, I know it’s inadmissible, but Mr. Hogan was half asleep during the trial, as far as I could determine; he died the following month, if you recall. The judge warned the DA’s table several times, but in the long run the impression remained with the jury. Dupaul, after a very brief trial, was found guilty of second-degree assault. It made him a second-offender.”
    Ross remembered the words of Jerry Coughlin regarding juries and the impressions they retained. The newspaperman’s words were, unfortunately, all too true. Still, Ross couldn’t think of a better system to protect the innocent than the jury system.
    â€œWhat happened to this man Riess?”
    â€œHe recovered completely. He’s probably starting fights in other bars right this minute.”
    â€œAnd Dupaul was sentenced to what?”
    â€œSeven and a half to twenty years as a second-offender.”
    Ross whistled. “That’s quite a penalty for a random fight in a bar, especially considering that nobody got killed or permanently injured.”
    â€œWell,” Steve said, “I suppose the man could have died. And the DA’s office, pushed by Gorman, as I hear it, really poured on the law-and-order bit; bloodthirsty killers roving the streets—those were his exact words. It must have had the proper effect on the judge to get Dupaul that stiff a sentence.”
    â€œAnd he’s served so much of it, so far?”
    â€œWell, he went in in late December, 1968, and this is late October … A few months less than four years. Incidentally, when Louis Gorman became Chief Assistant District Attorney, he served notice on the parole board that when, as, and if Dupaul ever became eligible for parole, he, personally, would oppose it vigorously. That was before Raymond Neeley died, of course. Now he’s pushing for the murder charge for all he’s worth.”
    Ross looked surprised.
    â€œWhere did you get that information about Gorman’s statement to the parole board?”
    Steve Sadler grinned. “That’s off-the-record information, Hank. From friends