Free The Mayor of Lexington Avenue by James Sheehan Page B

of a dark-haired woman popped up. It was the only picture of her mother she’d ever seen; it had sat on top of her father’s dresser. From that picture, as a little girl, she had created her mother in her dreams: beautiful, with long flowing black hair and the brightest smile. Elena had a striking resemblance to that woman. For the first time, she saw one of her clients in a different light. This was a mother trying to save her son from a lifetime of prison, possibly death.
    “I have no idea what kind of a case they have, Elena. Can you tell me a little about it?”
    It was hard but Elena took her through everything she knew: from the first day when the front page screamed that a young woman’s throat had been cut to her conversation with Rudy when he told her of being there and drinking and falling down and cutting himself. Tracey listened carefully, asking questions from time to time. She could now see where the state was coming from. She could also see that it was going to be a difficult case to win. Her first inclination was to bail out. Difficult cases ruined her unblemished record of success. Hers was not a reputation built on brilliant courtroom tactics. But she could see Elena—so strong, so focused—a beautiful, powerful mother. Tracey just couldn’t walk away from her. Not yet.
    “Somebody had to be in that house after Rudy left, Elena. If we can find that person, Rudy will walk. My investigative team is the best. My chief investigator, Dick Radek, was a detective for twenty years at the Miami police department, ten of those in homicide. We will leave no stone unturned. Before we’re through, we’ll know everybody in that neighborhood by their first name.”
    She was so sincere when she said it, Elena started to believe her and with good reason: It was the truth. Tracey had the best investigative team north of Miami and south of Jacksonville. Almost all of her cases were won at the investigative level, by turning over stones the police just tripped on. But Elena still wasn’t convinced.
    “The police have already done an investigation —”
    “I’m sure they have,” Tracey cut her off. “But the police in these small towns are notoriously lazy. Once they found your son’s blood in the trailer, their investigation stopped. They only need one suspect to look good.”
    That made sense to Elena. She was sure it was true. Those words and something else, something that had changed in Tracey since she initially sauntered into the room, convinced her that Tracey was the right person for the job. Elena felt her sincerity. She also felt something else, something that Tracey was so successful at hiding from the world—vulnerability. Not necessarily what she was looking for from the lawyer representing her son, but maybe from the person.
    Now that she was sold, it was Elena’s turn to press her case.
    “I don’t have much money.” It was a line Tracey had heard a thousand times before and usually, based upon their appearance, the car they were driving, what they did for a living, it was Tracey’s cue to walk them to the door, apologetically telling them that she couldn’t help them. She couldn’t do that to Elena.
    “Listen,” Tracey cut in again. “I usually require a twenty-five thousand dollar retainer for capital cases like your son’s. I’ve never reduced that retainer before,” another absolute truth, “but I believe in your son’s innocence. I believe we can find the evidence to exonerate him. I’ll agree to reduce my retainer to fifteen thousand dollars, but when that money is gone you must replenish it. I can’t make any exceptions to that rule.”
    “I have five with me,” Elena answered.
    “I can’t accept that. Go home. Talk to your relatives, your friends. See if you can raise the money. But do it quickly. Time is your enemy.”
    Sentiment only went so far with Tracey James.

Ten
    Rudy had spent the whole weekend on the river—fishing, lying around, thinking. There was an old