JL04 - Mortal Sin Read Online Free PDF

law.”
    Touché.
    “Look, my plan was to record Diaz, withdraw from his case, and warn him that the tape would be turned over to the state attorney if anything happened to Rafael Ramos. The idea was to force him not to kill a man.”
    “But you were his
attorney
, Mr. Lassiter. You owed Mr. Diaz the duty of unyielding loyalty. The conversation was privileged. What gave you the right to act as his conscience?”
    “
My
conscience,” I answered. “Besides, once he disclosed the plan to commit a crime in the future, I believed the privilege was lost.”
    “Did you seek an advisory opinion from the bar to confirm your so-called belief?”
    “No. There wasn’t time.”
    “So you proceeded to knowingly violate Chapter 934 and to also breach the privilege by contacting the state attorney?”
    “Yes. Diaz fired me when I wouldn’t agree to set up a murder. I contacted Abe Socolow after Ramos was found with three bullets in his skull.”
    “Do you have any regrets about your conduct?”
    “Yeah. I regret not calling Abe before Diaz killed Ramos.”
    “Now, isn’t it true that Mr. Diaz was never convicted of that crime?”
    “Right. There was a profound lack of witnesses.”
    “And you have no proof that Mr. Diaz committed this crime, do you, Mr. Lassiter?”
    “No. I mean, yes, I have no proof.” I hate questions phrased in the negative.
    “And do you have an explanation for your behavior?”
    “It seemed the right thing to do at the time,” I said.
    Faircloth couldn’t suppress a snicker. “It
seemed
the right thing to do.” He shot a look at the judge, trying to figure if he was scoring points. When he turned back to me, his smirk announced he was three touchdowns up with a minute to play. “Is that how you live your life, Mr. Lassiter, doing what
seems
right at the time?”
    I didn’t have to think about the answer. It was just there, the simple, stark truth. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I do.”

Chapter 3
----

Goblins in the Night
     
    C HARLIE RIGGS WAS WATCHING A LITHE YOUNG WOMAN IN BLACK Lycra shorts and a bikini top whirl through a pirouette on her Rollerblades, smack in the middle of Ocean Drive. No drivers yelled. No horns honked. A white stretch limo politely pulled around her. Four bearded guys gunned their black Harleys in an admiring salute as they gave her room. Two Miami Beach cops in khaki shorts weaved in and out of traffic on their bicycles, looking tanned, fit, and friendly, despite the Sig-Sauer nine-millimeters on their hips.
    “Fascinating,” Charlie said, as the young woman sped down the center line.
    “Her abdominals, or the aerodynamics of the sport?” I asked.
    “Dying of hypothermia in Miami in August,” he answered, dipping a piece of pita bread into a bowl of pureed eggplant with garlic. We were sitting at a sidewalk table of the News Cafe, gathering spot for artists, actors, models, and assorted junior-varsity wannabes. A light breeze from the ocean, a few hundred yards to the east, cut the midday heat to manageable levels. To the west, storm clouds gathered over the Everglades. In the summer, lunch is followed by mid afternoon thunderstorms nine days out of ten. I was wearing jeans, running shoes, dark glasses, and a Hawaiian shirt festooned with orchids. Charlie had on baggy pants that he must have worn while painting his house, a green surgical smock, and a fisherman’s vest with various hooks and flies attached. He wore a shapeless canvas hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. To the casual observer, he was either the hippest guy on trendy South Beach or a demented professor.
    Charlie took a sip of his lemonade and said, “A few years ago, a body turned up in Bayfront Park. It was July. A lad in his late teens, frozen stiff as a board and banged up a bit. Nobody could figure out what the deuce had happened. We checked the local meat lockers, ice plants, that sort of thing. I did the autopsy. Cause of death was asphyxia. Checked the inventory of his