Gideon - 04 - Illegal Motion Read Online Free PDF Page A

volunteers.
    “I know a couple of guys who know him pretty well. Carter’s the type of guy who might be willing to talk about this, but I bet he’s getting a lot of pressure from the higher-ups to drop him from the team. The old do-right rule. With all the crap in the past, this is a real PR problem for the school.”
    “I know,” I concede, “but Cunningham’s the difference between the Sugar Bowl and another .500 season. All I want to do is talk to Carter. I’ve read that he sticks up for the players.” Years earlier Dale Carter had brought Houston a couple of almost undefeated seasons but had a problem with the bottle and got run off. He dried out and had been coaching quarterbacks with a number of teams when Jack Burke, the Razorbacks’ athletic director, tapped him in the spring to revive the team after a number of bad seasons.
    “He does,” Barton agrees.
    “In his interviews, he always says he knows what it’s like to be down. I’ll see if I can get his number. It’s probably unlisted.”
    “Thanks, Barton,” I say.
    “I appreciate it.”
    “I’m always glad to help a real lawyer,” Barton says slavishly.
    “Barton, you make more in a day than I make in a month,” I remind him. Barton (who was advised by our trial advocacy professor not even to try crossexamining a dead dog because he got so flustered in class), has the kind of mind that can trace a chain of title practically without pencil and paper. I could have five computers working night and day and never get a parcel of land back further than three owners without becoming hopelessly confused. The last time I saw him he had on a Rolex and a gold ring that ought to be locked up in Fort Knox. The metal on my body couldn’t even buy me lunch.
    “Don’t kid me, Gideon,” he says.
    “I read about you in the papers. You’re the real thing.”
    Why discourage him? If he wants to believe what he sees on the tube, that’s his problem.
    “Whatever you can find out,” I say, “I’ll be in your debt.”
    “No problem,” he says, his voice rushing on to another topic.
     
    “Here’s something that might help. Did you notice this case was actually filed by the assistant prosecuting attorney, a kid by the name of Mike Cash? Our prosecutor is on vacation for three weeks in the wilds of Canada.
    There’s a feeling that Mike should have waited until Binkie Cross got back in town to bring this kind of charge. There’s a rumor going around he has a sister who was raped and he’s got an itchy trigger finger when he comes to that kind of crime.”
    This is welcome news. There is nothing to say that a charge can’t be dismissed. I thank him and hang up so he can get on the phone. While I’m waiting, I call Sarah to let her know I’ll be coming up tomorrow. She answers on the fifth ring and sounds sleepy. It is only seven-thirty.
    She shouldn’t be tired this early on a Tuesday.
    “What’s wrong, babe?” I ask.
    “You sound exhausted.” I try to imagine her room. Unless she has improved her house keeping, there are more clothes on the floor than in her closet. At least she is living in a dorm. Apartments are nothing but trouble. The year I lived in one at Fayetteville my grades dropped a full letter.
    “I’m fine. Daddy,” she says, yawning audibly.
    “I had a math test yesterday and stayed up late. I was just taking a nap so I won’t be sleepy later on.”
    Damn, what is going to happen that she has to take a nap for? I know I shouldn’t ask. If she doesn’t want me to know, I couldn’t dynamite it out of her.
    “You have a party to go to in the middle of the week?” I yelp, knowing I sound stupid and old.
    There is silence on the other end.
    “It’s not a big deal,” she says finally.
    “I was just leaving.”
    So make it quick. Dad. I look down at Woogie, who is curled up on the cool linoleum. He isn’t giving me the bum’s rush.
    “How was your test?”
    “It was hard,” she admits.
    College algebra. I made a