Guilty as Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

cheerfulness, her unquestioned fairness and her curious habit of treating people—all people—with uncommon decency. How she’d ever ended up as a judge was anyone’s guess.
    Not that she didn’t have an interesting backstory. Rumor had it that in her early twenties she’d been involved in some sort of special operations in the War, and had been parachuted behind enemy lines in Nazi Germany. That she’d been good with a gun and better still with a knife. Jaywalker had tried to get her to open up once about the subject, offering to trade a few of his DEA stories in exchange. But she’d demurred. “Who can remember?” She’d laughed him off. Still, the rumors persisted, and in a place like 100 Centre Street, rumor was often as good as it got.
    This would be Alonzo Barnett’s trial judge, should he really insist on a trial. And though that would ensure arelatively pleasurable couple of weeks for Jaywalker, in the long run it would do absolutely nothing for Barnett. Save for the fact that after the jury had convicted him and the judge had sentenced him, her parting “Good luck” to him would be genuine instead of sarcastic.
    â€œAhh, Mr. Jaywalker,” she said now as she spied him making his way up the aisle. “How nice to see you. And thank you for leaving us a note earlier.” Then, turning to a court officer, she said, “Would you please bring out Mr. Barnett.”
    Would you please. Mister. From a judge, mind you.
    Not that anything of substance went on that first day. The assistant D.A. in the part read off a note from Daniel Pulaski. The eight-to-life sentence was still being offered on a plea to an A-2, it said. But if the defendant didn’t take it this time or next, it would be withdrawn. After that, he could have fifteen to life—or worse.
    â€œHow much time do you need?” the judge asked Jaywalker, once his client had been brought out from the pen.
    â€œTwo weeks would be good,” he told her.
    â€œTwo weeks it is. See you then. Are you doing all right, Mr. Barnett?”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    It was stuff like that that confounded Jaywalker. Try as he might, he just couldn’t picture Shirley Levine jumping out of a plane in the dark of the night, a gun stuck in her belt and a knife clenched in her teeth.
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    Back in the pens, Jaywalker had his second sit-down interview with Barnett. This one would take on a bit more urgency than the first, if only because of the ultimatum delivered by Daniel Pulaski’s note. While threats to withdraw plea offers were often no more thanthat—threats—Jaywalker couldn’t put it past Pulaski to follow through on his. What difference would it make to him if some defendant ended up with a fifteen-year minimum instead of an eight year one? So Jaywalker didn’t mince words.
    â€œIf you ever want to take a plea, next time is the time to do it,” he said. “I don’t trust this D.A. to keep the offer open past then. I really don’t.”
    Barnett seemed to think for a moment, and Jaywalker half expected him to say, “Okay, we’ll do it next time.” After all, he hadn’t once said, “I’m not guilty” or “I didn’t do it” or anything along those lines. In fact, at their first meeting, he’d made a point of admitting that the charges against him were true, every word of them. But what Jaywalker hadn’t learned yet was that unlike most defendants, and for that matter most people, Alonzo Barnett was never quick to answer a question of any sort. Not that he stalled before replying or repeated the question aloud in order to buy time. No, Jaywalker would come to understand, it was simply a matter of Barnett’s taking a moment to think before responding. A rare thing indeed.
    â€œTo tell you the truth,” he finally said, “I don’t intend to take a plea. If that’s all right with